Vacation Tales of the Witch - Pt. 2

So, I think how these aliens *  might *  play it before they pay one of us humans a call is that they wait until we’re sort of at a low ebb.  You know, not at the top of our game.  Feeling a mite peakish.  It’s just a theory, of course.  On the other hand, some might argue: Well, Lynn, you were just in a semi-drunken fevered state and therefore hallucinating and there were no aliens at all…

But nuh-uh, I don’t buy that, because ever since we’ve journeyed to our isolated, high-altitude cabin retreat these past 10 years, I have experienced some distinctly odd occurrences, fever or no fever and – yes folks - drinks or no drinks.  And I’ll also mention these occurrences to Chris if they’re particularly interesting, but sometimes I don’t bother.  ("Ok Lynn, this is not the kinda place where we need to be SPOOKING OURSELVES…”)  I mean, he’s a fairly tolerant man and not a closed-minded one by any means, but why overload him with unnecessary heebee jeebies? 

However, I don’t have any problem giving YOU guys a little back-story on some uber-natural (…or not?  ‘Cuz it’s starting to feel kinda natural to me…) kinda stuff I gots goin’ on. 

Like something that I long ago dubbed “THE TRIBALS” for instance:

Whenever I am residing in a wilderness area, be it at our Catskill cabin, New England or wherever we’ve camped over the years - I am frequently woken in the middle of the night by what goes from a low rumble to a nearly deafening roar.  My interpretation is that what I am hearing is bare feet stamping on a dust floor in a rhythmic circle around me, especially just near my head and shoulders (I can feel the vibration, too, pretty strong).  This, accompanied by multitudes of guttural grunting.  Also, what sounds like skin-drums being pounded with sticks.  I wake with a start and without meaning to I wake Chris in the process.  I'm not scared or anything, just stunned because it becomes SO LOUD, also accompanied by a feeling of nearly being STEPPED ON.  So this will JOLT me out of the deepest of slumbers.  Of course, when I wake up the room is dead-quiet (except for my hubby: “Huuhhmmm….whaaa….???”)  So then I'll just tell him: "Sorry, honey…it was The Tribals again."  And we go back to sleep, pretty much right away.  The Tribals rarely come back on the same night, tho’ it’s happened on occasion.  It doesn’t much phase me anymore.  Sometimes I’ll even think: “Wow, been awhile since The Tribals”…and don’tcha know, shortly thereafter they’ll kindly make an appearance.

I’m big on lucid dreams as well.  Not always, but often enough I’ll remember my dreams really, really clearly  – so much so that I began taking notes years ago and I refer back to them now and again and sometimes they’ve proven to be almost precognizant.    ANYWAY….One dream was most vivid and it involved a young, blond woman who came to me smiling.  She looked a little like Sissy Spacek, circa: “CARRIE.”  She claimed to be a musician (“just like you…”), and she said that she needed me to “fill in for her.” 

At the time I had this dream, I was gigging a lot with my band.  So I ask her: “Well, what do you need me to do?  I’m pretty busy myself these days.”  And she just keeps smiling this eerie little smile, as if to say: “I don’t need to tell you – you already know.”   She’s not saying it out loud, but I KNOW she’s thinking it.  And I’m getting a little annoyed with this smiling routine of hers, so I just ask her: “Listen, who ARE you, anyhow?  Do I KNOW you?”  And she says – loud and important-like - still smiling:

“I AM ARLUV.  OF ARTAL  TWARLATOV.”

And I WAKE with a gasp, thinking: “I KNOW HER. I KNOW HER.”  And I look around in the dark on my nightstand for a pen to write this down, because it just…I don’t know…it GRIPS me and it literally takes me some time to catch my breath, bring my heart rate down. 

But then I fall back to sleep almost immediately after I write ole’ Arluv’s information down and when I wake up the next day I don’t know what the fuck it means.  So I tell Chris about it. 

And he goes: “Say that again.” 

Ok.  “I am Arluv.  Of Artal Twarlatov.”  

Chris:  “That’s your language.  That’s definitely the language I always hear you speaking.”

Which – that’s another thing. Chris tells me that some nights I have these big long conversations in my sleep where I’m speaking in a completely different language that sounds like…well, I guess it’s Twarlatovian or something, huh?

To Be Continued….