About those People

Third Eye Sights

About those People

Remember that group of people hovering over the bed that I first related on this page? And remember the suggestion that I initiate a dialogue with whatever it is that I’m seeing? Well, since I promised to elaborate on the former and since the latter is directly connected…


A friend has asked me to come and lend moral support as she stands before a group of faculty and peers at San Jose State University. Her presentation and the Q and A that follows will determine whether or not she’s deemed qualified to continue her pursuit of a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree. (Nancy does great, btw, even though she is grilled mercilessly by one particular professor for having the courage to admit she has no idea of the answer to one of life’s great mysteries)

After making the trek from Walnut Creek to the university, and pondering that vision nearly every mile of the way, I take a seat near one of my favorite professors. Lynn (the art dept. profs go by first names) is a fabulous painter, an erudite instructor, and a wonderful person with a deep interest in some of those aforementioned mysteries that life offers. She’s not only married to my mentor, Harry, but has become just as important an influence on my critical and artistic thinking (and feeling).

That I sit near her is no accident.

I had hoped to sit next to her as I’m feeling a real need to get some feedback on what’s going on and she’s the only person I know who might be able to shed some light on my own little mystery.

Jeff, a mutant grad student, is seated between Lynn and I. Jeff looks about 25. He’s got bachelors and masters degrees from two big-name East Coast universities, he works for a company making animatronic characters for feature films, and he’s going after his own MFA at SJSU. He’s a great guy and a terrific artist, but today he picked the wrong seat.

After Jeff and I catch up on what’s new (the presentation won’t start for a few minutes), I lean forward and ask Lynn if she’s up to sharing some of her wisdom.

“Well,” I begin, after she invites me to elaborate, “I’m seeing things…”

Poor Jeff slowly leans back in his chair as if to distance himself from my comments. As I glance at him, I see real concern on his face. Jeff’s grounded in science and imaginary cats roaming the halls and people floating around the room must sound pretty crazy to him.

Anyway, I get to the second vision and it goes something like:

“…and I open my eyes and there’s a group of people hovering over the bed. I think there was six of them, men and women, looking directly at me. The room is dark, but I can see them as if it were daylight. It was almost like there was a light shining on them—or was the light source within them? They didn’t shimmer or fade in and out but looked as real to me as you do right now. There was something probing about their gazes. Maybe some concern, but something else, something I can’t put my finger on. I didn’t feel any fear, just surprise and amazement. Then they slowly passed over me and through the wall, one by one, never breaking eye contact. The last, a dark-haired woman with kind and gentle eyes paused where the others had not. She looked at me almost expectantly, some sadness in her smile maybe but once again there was something else present in her gaze that I didn’t and still don’t understand. As she too passes through the wall, I crane my neck to savor the last moment of contact and am surprised once again as a geometric, two-dimensional representation of a face appears on the wall where she and the others had passed. The face is depicted in colorful outlines but the visage is stern…”

Lynn listens without interruption. She thinks for a few moments and says, “I’m not sure what to make of the people, but I would take the face as a warning.”

The next week she tells me that she has talked to a friend who suggests that I initiate a dialogue to try and determine what’s going on.

On 032196 I wrote:

Vision–3:30 up to wiz
White translucent inch-worm type of creature
About 10″ to 12″ long
Moving from bedroom door to front door/futon

I followed this thing, watching it inch its way down the hall, amazed at the realism of its locomotion, not thinking for even an instant that it was anything but another of these “visions.” Wondering what it was, I turned back before it disappeared. Had to pee, y’know, and I didn’t really want to rouse myself so completely that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

Pathetic, huh? Here’s my third chance to figure out what this is and I’m worried about getting up too early.

While I’m peeing, I remember the advice Lynn relayed to me and I mumbled something like, “What are you?” to the now unseen inch-worm-thing.

I don’t think you need me to tell you that there was no response.


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