MOTHMAN FLUTTERINGS

I’ve been working on delving into many of my UFO experiences, including “dreams” or/ and memories, missing time, and time line of events. A few of my posts have appeared on-line in the past week or so. My idea was to start with intent — intent to remember, to retrieve: An Intent Experiment Retreiving Missing Time , and Dreams and Memories in a UFO Context The latter article I wrote and posted on Phantoms and Monsters last night.

Mothman wasn’t on my mind, just UFOs, but I had the following dream last night:

I’m on my way to Point Pleasant — road trip! A Mothman road trip. A couple of friends are with me. I have an idea to film all this, do a documentary, even though I don’t want to. I keep saying that there are so many documentaries on Mothman what could I possibly contribute, or uncover, that would be new for anyone? Same old same old. There is also the fact I don’t know a thing about making movies or documentaries. (And yet later, when it comes to editing, a tedious process I do not want to do, I can’t trust anyone else, even with years of editing experience, to touch the film. What if they miss something, lose something, or misnterpret my discovery? I’ll do it myself, even though it’s going to be a huge pain.)

We start off in the west; vast, beautiful landscape. Violets and blues and pinks and huge canyons and deserts, just absolutely amazing. Uninhabited by humans. A bit scary too; and suddenly, to my surprise, I realize Mothman is here as well. He, it, has been here. A giangantic shadow appears overhead, gliding silently across the sky. It’s the shadow of a Mothman/Thunderbird, but not the thing itself. I’m surprised we’d find Mothman out here right away, so far from Point Pleasant.

We keep going. Find petroglyphs in the Southwest that are definitely Mothman. Many Naitves are upset with me, accusing me of being a “twinkie” and appropriating and exploiting culture, others don’t and are helpful. We move on.

Make it to Point Pleasant. Turns out it’s the day after the Mothman Festival. Streets are littered with confetti, flyers, etc. I’m a little shocked, and disturbed, at the poverty of the place. A veneer has been set in place but it’ s flimsy; you can see right through things. There is sadness, confusion, loss, and a sense of being lost . . . I really want to leave.

We find a family who own an “antique” shop, more of a vintage, sort of, catch all thrift store. They remember Mothman well and to my surprise, are willing to talk to me. I would have thought everyone in the town would be talked out but they want people to understand, to know, and so they don’t mind me being there. And yet there is such an overall sense of desperation. Not from Mothman, but because of Mothman: because of how the world has responded to them, their town, their story.