Mike’s imagination and intellect extend beyond just the realms of scholarly research, and the mysteries of this world only seem to have provoked musings in his own mind that have resulted in the fanciful tales he spins in the latter of these four books. However, I first came to know Mike as a researcher of Hollow Earth mysteries–namely the stories told by Richard Shaver and later published by editor Ray Palmer in Amazing Stories in the 1940s and ’50s–which dealt with a race of beings that exist in hollow caverns under the Earth. This represents a sort of folkloric element that taps in to devils, demons, and a host of anti-humans that dwell in dark recesses of this planet where minds have wandered (if not also the occasional explorer) for centuries in search of their greatest fears.

Far too often, the study of anomalous subterranean mysteries are overlooked in the research that seeks to clarify the unexplained and occult mysteries of this “Tragic Earth” (to borrow Shaver’s term). In Caverns, Cauldrons, and Concealed Creatures, Mott takes a Fortean look at folklore throughout history and weaves it together with factual reports of others ranging from diminutive human-like dwarfs and hair-covered creatures, to serpentine monsters that are commonplace in both Arthurian and legends of classical swashbuckling and romance, as well deep freshwater lakes the world over. Stranger reports of amphibian-like Earth-dwellers and “faceless” aliens from underground bases pick at the mind, evoking images the likes of those that appear in classics like Etidorpha. Mott writes, “Cryptid critters, UFO phenomena, and other creepy varmints seem to have a definite connection with the underworld, as do unusual human beings of “outlandish” or “foreign” appearance. The very nature of the rapid appearance and disappearance of such beings would indicate that not only caverns, but land-locked bodies of water, oceans, old cellars, mineshafts, train tunnels, bridges (over hidden water or land entrances?), sewer systems (particularly older ones) may have a definite connection to such things.”

And indeed, when considering reports of “high strangeness” the likes of Bigfoot encounters, as well as real life reports of gnomes, trolls, and smallish monsters the likes of a Tolkien novel, perhaps no better theory could be offered. As strange as this world is, it is also riddled with hints of things that exist in the periphery of human consciousness. This Tragic Earth: The Art and World of Richard Sharpe Shaver takes a look at the “art” of the man credited with first bringing knowledge to the public of an underground domain inhabited by what he called “detrimental (emphasis on the mental) robots” and proto-human mutants that sought enjoyment by torturing slaves kidnapped from the world above. Aside from his fantastic revelations of the subterranean kind, Shaver was also frequently associated with his “rock art.” Mott explains, “The material in this book, for the most part, was sent to Ray Palmer. There was the book itself, This Tragic Earth, along with a packet of photos of sliced pieces of rock, through which Shaver had exposed light onto photographic paper.” In essence, Shaver had claimed that this unique process he had created revealed secret messages contained within rocks he dug from the Earth which indicated ancient feats of wisdom and technology by ancient civilizations that once inhabited the planet. Though most of the imagery Shaver included in his “rock books” only vaguely resembled the sorts of pictographs he was able to discern from them, Shaver nonetheless is revered today in fringe art and occult knowledge circles for his unique practices, masterfully compiled in Mott’s re-issue of the author’s masterpiece.

Arguably (though it may come as a surprise to those who know my scholarly pursuits), the two books I’ve recently read by Mott for review here have been his fantasy works. Pulp Winds: Pulse Pounding Adventures in Fiction and Verse is a collection of stories (and even a bit of occasional poetry that ties together the realms of Shaver’s underworld with Lovecraft’s occult mythos; altogether peppered with inflections of Jules Verne and Robert E. Howard where characters like the semi-human Adlans and the familiar Shuggoths creep their way through the haunting “Cask of Ages,” co-authored with Gerald W. Page who notes in the introduction that, “Mike has brought not only his considerable talent to bear on this story, but his insight into the fiction of both Shaver and Lovecraft. It is a much better story than it would have been had I written it alone.” Page’s glowing acknowledgments aren’t the only endorsements he recevies; the well known and acclaimed author of all things esoteric, Brad Steiger, also contributed an introduction segment. Steiger, also a fan of classic pulp-fiction, says that Mott is “making reading short stories fun once again,” describing the colorful wording in Mott’s stories as a cauldron of time and space that allows “the days of fast-paced adventure fiction to be restored to the exalted pillars of imagination on which they deserve to reside.” This is true; and the choice wording that often entails “color” so often used by those who read an enjoy Mott’s unique brand of fiction are correct in more ways than once, since the Pulp Winds anthology is also peppered with Mike’s exotic, sometimes even avant garde depictions of strange, far-away lands inhabited by creatures nearly unimaginable.

And yet, amidst all the fantastic meanderings of Mott’s mind present within his fiction, perhaps the most enduring (and at times endearing) character featured throughout his “Mottimorphic mythos” is none other than Calim Pulsifer, the roguish vagabond traveler featured throughout the two-novel edition of The Pulsifer Saga: Omnibus Edition. Short sword at his side and hunger in his belly, the outlandish traveler and master thief manages to find his way into the most terrifying and involved encounters with mages, monsters and demiurges (extra-dimensional beings which even the smartest thieves shouldn’t smart off at). Whether it be devouring the pig-like young of monstrous devils and lying about the deed, feeding aphrodisiacs to wizards and tossing them to cannibalistic sub-humans in heat, or setting rampaging wood-ogres ablaze while escaping into the cavernous underneaths of Zev Grotto and Lunkin Karst, Pulsifer “The Velvet Knife” still manages to endear himself to the reader, all the while shooting himself repeatedly in the foot. Such unconventional characterization of a leading character brings Mott to the forefront of a unique brand of fantasy and science fiction that appeals to the inkling Tolkien or Lewis or Salvatore in any of us, appreciated just as well as the given Burroughs, Lovecraft, or Verne fans would do.

The final word: These books come highly-recommended to both Fortean scholars and fantasy readers alike, and by spinning the intricacies of both these paths to insight, William Michael Mott manages to capture something so few have done before or since–appeal to both fiction and non-fiction readers. Enjoy his work, but above all, learn from his studies in supernatural lore, and if anything, don’t end up like his anti-hero Pulsifer so often does!

To purchase books by Wm Michael Mott and learn about his many published works, visit his website.

Speaking of Strange with Joshua P. Warren

To call into the program toll-free, dial 1-800-570-9962. Also, you may enjoy participating in our chat room (also accessible through the show’s website). Tonight’s subjects, as always, will be many and varied, pertaining to all the best paranormal and down-right strange news taking place out there today. You won’t want to miss this!

More than fifty years have passed since the appearance of Howard’s “jellyfish,” prompting many to assume the strange encounter would be left to speculation in the annals of Ufology. However, Scottish UFO investigator Martin Shough now believes he has solved the half-century-old mystery. According to a new article in Fortean Times, Shough has gathered weather data and primary evidence taken from the crews’ statements shortly after the incident. At the FT website, the following conclusions are drawn:

Shough concludes there can be little doubt the crew and passengers saw an unusual mirage. And far from being rare, he discovered this sighting was just one of “an unrecognised class of very similar mirage observations from aircraft”. His definitive study proves it is poss¬ible to resolve even the most perplexing UFO reports with enough time and effort. It also shows there is valuable scientific data lurking within the noise that constitutes the UFO enigma.

Case closed? Perhaps… but the elements of esoterica that nonetheless swarm around this unique story are only beginning to come to light. Read on, dear seekers of supernatural lore…

The mirage phenomenon referred to here, in one of its various forms, has a rather Fortean name, “Fata Morgana,” which at present I find preferable due to its esoteric allusions. Fata Morgana refers to none other than Morgan Le Fay, the witch prominent in Arthurian legends and “fairy mistress of the of the salt sea.” The latter association between Morgan Le Fay and the sea stems from around the time Wolfram von Eschenbach was penning his Arthurian epic Parzival, in which he calls the Sicilian volcano Etna “The Mountain of Morgan the Fairy”. This coincided with legends detailing how sirens, fairy temptresses of the deep who swam the warm waters around Sicily, would use their infectious song to lure weary sailors to their deaths. This, it seems, led to an association with the folkloric Morgan le Fay being dubbed a siren, and even”mistress of the fairies of the salt sea”, in French Arthurian texts.

Tying Fata Morgana in with Howard’s sighting of a Jellyfish UFO, of particular interest here are legends that state how Morgan created “boats that fly above the sea and never approach the shore and caused golden castles to float in the air above the straits of Messina, castles that no one was ever able to reach and that were nothing more than an optical illusion—a mirage, the Fata Morgana, as she was called in Italy.” The idea of “boats that fly above the sea” sounds eerily reminiscent of some maritime UFO encounters of old; could it be insinuated that some seagoing UFO reports over the years stemmed from the Trickster-like Fata Morgana?

ABOVE: The Gralien crew tests out our own “Flying Gople” in the Summer of 2009 (LEFT TO RIGHT: Forrest Connor, Caleb Hanks, Cristopher McCollum and Micah A. Hanks)

One final (albeit strange) parallel worthy of noting here also deals with the idea of jellyfish-shaped UFOs in general. One famous photograph of a Danish UFO, dubbed “The Flying Gople,” depicts what is understood to be a cloud-like burst from a smokestack photographed in the vicinity of a nearby factory (see image at the top of this article). Strange atmospheric conditions permitted the moisture pocket to take on a strangely saucer-like shape, as well as formations resembling long appendages stemming from its base. Altogether, the object resembled a huge jellyfish floating in the sky! Although this photograph was understood to be a freak combination of various atmospheric influences, I was captivated with the idea that strange jellyfish-like UFOs sometimes appear (and which can be constructed using various methods, as in the demonstration featured in the video below):

Flying Jellyfish Robot from Tierney O’Dea on Vimeo.

Excerpting a segment from an earlier blog post on this subject that appeared here at the Gralien Report, there are also early fiction references to “atmospheric life forms” in the work of none other than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that resemble flying jellyfish. In his 1913 fiction story “The Horror of the Heights,” the following ornate passage of the discovery of a large, tentacled monstrosity gliding along in the Earth’s upper strata is related by a pilot who dared to glide to altitudes that challenged Earth’s extremities:

The thought was in my mind when my eyes looked upwards and I saw the most wonderful vision that ever man has seen. Can I hope to convey it to you even as I saw it myself last Thursday? Conceive a jelly-fish such as sails in our summer seas, bell- shaped and of enormous size–far larger, I should judge, than the dome of St. Paul’s. It was of a light pink colour veined with a delicate green, but the whole huge fabric so tenuous that it was but a fairy outline against the dark blue sky. It pulsated with a delicate and regular rhythm. From it there depended two long, drooping, green tentacles, which swayed slowly backwards and forwards. This gorgeous vision passed gently with noiseless dignity over my head, as light and fragile as a soap-bubble, and drifted upon its stately way.

Perhaps Doyle’s fantastic meanderings of the mind would inspire Charles Fort to muse along the same lines in his 1931 book Lo!, in which he discussed giant beasts that could exist in the skies above us. More than two decades later, an article published in 1955 in American Astrology magazine by Countess Zoe Wassilko-Serecki described similar creatures as “large luminous bladders of colloidal silicones that assume different shapes depending on whether they are stationary or moving.” This particular description of alleged “sky beasts” seems to draw again from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s descriptions of monsters in his fiction, as illustrated n the following passage:

But a more terrible experience was in store for me. Floating downwards from a great height there came a purplish patch of vapour, small as I saw it first, but rapidly enlarging as it approached me, until it appeared to be hundreds of square feet in size. Though fashioned of some transparent, jelly-like substance, it was none the less of much more definite outline and solid consistence than anything which I had seen before. There were more traces, too, of a physical organization, especially two vast, shadowy, circular plates upon either side, which may have been eyes, and a perfectly solid white projection between them which was as curved and cruel as the beak of a vulture. The whole aspect of this monster was formidable and threatening, and it kept changing its colour from a very light mauve to a dark, angry purple so thick that it cast a shadow as it drifted between my monoplane and the sun. On the upper curve of its huge body there were three great projections which I can only describe as enormous bubbles, and I was convinced as I looked at them that they were charged with some extremely light gas which served to buoy up the misshapen and semi-solid mass in the rarefied air… Its method of progression… was to throw out a long, glutinous streamer in front of it, which in turn seemed to draw forward the rest of the writhing body. So elastic and gelatinous was it that never for two successive minutes was it the same shape, and yet each change made it more threatening and loathsome than the last.

Indeed, there appear to be parallels between descriptions of “sky beasts” the likes of Howard’s mirage that pertain to Ufology’s golden era; could they also have been the phantasmal “Fata Morgana,” or might they draw from Doyle’s own imaginative creatures? Probing further, could this have been the inspiration for such monsters that pepper more fringe UFO theories proposed by the likes of Trevor James Constable, Charles Fort, and even Ivan Sanderson?

David and Rhys are great guys, and on this week’s edition they caught up with me to discuss “Sasquatch Language”:

Micah A. Hanks on “The Cryptid Factor”

Also, be sure and tune in to next week’s program as well, in which I was invited back to discuss giant deep-sea monstrosities and the enigmatic “Bloop” noise. Hopefully there will be other future appearances as well, since these guys have a very entertaining (and light-hearted) show. Don’t miss it!

Below is a link to a recent interview I did with Benjamin Grundy of the popular Australian podcast Mysterious Universe. In this edition, we discuss my new book, Magic, Mysticism and the Molecule, and delve into a broad overview of the kinds of high strangeness contained within. Enjoy!

Mysterious Universe Episode 307 with Micah A. Hanks

ABOVE: Micah A. Hanks (far left) and Vance Pollock (far right) interviewing Eustace Mullins with Christopher McCollum (not pictured) in late 2009

Mullins was born in Roanoake, Virginia, in 1923 to parents Eustace Clarence Mullins and Jane Katherine Muse. He received education at Washington and Lee University, New York University, the University of North Dakota and the Institute of Contemporary Arts in Washington, D.C. before enlisting in the military as a Warrant Officer in 1942. Mullins also served thirty-eight months active service during World War II in the United States Air Force.

Mullins was well known for the association and friendship he maintained with several noteworthy historic figures with whom he frequently visited, earning him the nickname “America’s Guest.” He first became acquainted with American poet Ezra Pound in the winter of 1948, while Pound was being kept at Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, D.C. At Pound’s request, Mullins, at the time an employee at the Library of Congress, was commissioned to author a book about the Federal Reserve on Pound’s behalf. Through the publication of such controversial books, as well as his associations with literary and political figures that included Russell Kirk, E.E. Cummings, and Joseph McCarthy, Mullins became an object of concern to the FBI under then-director J. Edgar Hoover, who secretly kept files on Mullins throughout his tenure. Using Freedom of Information Act Requests, Mullins obtained a portion of this record in December of 1981, and subsequently published a book based on his experiences, A Writ for Martyrs (1985).

Due to the controversial nature of some of his written works, Mullins was dogged with accusations of racist and anti-Semitic views expressed in books such as The Curse of Canaan: A Demonology of History. Mullins refuted these accusations, but due to his controversial status was nonetheless frequently asked to appear on radio and television programs that included The Political Cesspool.

Jim Marrs, author of numerous books on conspiracies such as Rule By Secrecy and The Terror Conspiracy shared his feelings about Eustace after hearing of his passing:

Eustace has, and will remain, on my Hero List. His diligent work to bring out the under reported aspects of our national history have been a tremendous help in my own investigations. And I know of no factual information that significantly contradicts his finds and conclusions. If the day ever comes when America honors truth over spin, hype and distraction, the name of Eustace Mullins will be at the top of the list. We must never forget his legacy.

Christopher McCollum, a writer and editor at the Culture of Spirits website, shared the following of his visit with Mullins in winter of 2009:

I would like to say that with my three days that I spent with him, I felt completely at home. His breadth of knowledge and experience was astounding, and the only thing more impressive than that was his willingness and ability to speak about it. Like a rare visit from a favorite uncle, we gathered around him and sat mesmerized as he told his tales.

It was an experience that I will never forget, I daresay. The last of Ezra Pound’s students had the temerity to stand up for himself against unthinkable enemies and odds, and should serve as a beacon to those who think that one man can’t fight the system.

Eustace will be sorely missed, and I thank the heavens that I got to spend the time that I did with him, in his waning days.

Vance Pollock, historical consultant for the L.E.M.U.R. Paranormal Investigations team out of Asheville, North Carolina, also expressed sentiments regarding his many meetings and discussions with Mullins:

For my part, I will miss Eustace as one of the last links to that greatly misrepresented American struggle against “creeping communism” which it seems we lost with a whimper over the last few decades.

To anyone who would question authority and the establishment formula which states what a person should think, feel and believe regarding the way the world is run, Eustace Mullins was that rare and exceptional voice of the free thinker.

Eustace Mullins will forever stand in my mind as the unwavering underdog. In seeking to understand why Eustace will be given the silent treatment afforded all such troublesome characters, I imagine him as a young man standing by the coffin of Joe McCarthy delivering his eulogy (Editor’s note: It is known that Mullins was actually a featured speaker at McCarthy’s funeral).

Fifty some years later, this chapter in history has been rewritten for us to interpret any such sincere and patriotic opposition to “the enemy within” as some confused or misguided paranoia… but was it? Eustace Mullins preserved for us a seed of truth that will continue to be hidden away from the mainstream.

He will continue to be loved, respected and admired by future seekers who search for their answers in the dark, neglected corners of the dustbin of history.

Those who knew him proudly called him a friend, and an American patriot. Mullins was not married at the time of his death, and is survived by one remaining sibling.

The following snippet from my book details my introduction to Dr. Raymond Moody, whose unique variety of grief counseling involves the use of an ancient magical tool called the “psychomanteum.” My own experiences with this ancient practice, as well as those close to me at the time, began to get increasingly strange and unsettling as we proceeded with using it to unravel bizarre mysteries of the mind. You’ll get an idea of what I’m referring to in the excerpt below. Enjoy!

LABYRINTHS OF THE MIND: THE ANCIENT GREEK “ORACLE OF THE DEAD” REVISITED

Psychics and others who travel in other nonphysical realms like the astral world report that polarities are switched. Left becomes right. Future becomes past. Mirrors represent these shifts.Labyrinths help the individual make them.

-Sig Lonegren, Labyrinths: Ancient Myths and Modern Uses

In February of 2008, I had the pleasure of spending a snowy evening with Dr. Raymond Moody M.D. at a small conference in Ridgecrest, North Carolina. As I hinted earlier, Moody is a leading authority on the near death experience, a term he is credited with coining in the late 1970s, as well as being one of the world’s most-respected grief counselors. His preferred therapeutic methods involve a most interesting meditative technique, first developed by the ancient Greeks and later adopted and refined by Moody to be “a therapeutic tool to heal grief and bring insight.” Here an intimate crowd of fewer than thirty attendees had gathered together with hope of learning his technique, huddled around fancy tables in a small dining area in the lower portion of the rustic Madison Inn. As I stood in the doorway to the room that held our seminar, called “the library” by the owners due to its scholarly décor, a short man with an accent stepped through and politely greeted me. To my surprise, he introduced himself as Ray Buckland, a name I knew very well from reading his books detailing the modern practice of magical arts for healing and good fortune. Standing here with Buckland, our attention shifted to the various old rare books and other trinkets that lined the walls; the library seemed quite appropriate for a man of Moody’s intellect and stature, and would prove to be a stimulating environment for the knowledge he would pass along to us throughout the course of the weekend.

Raymond Moody sat across the room at a table where several people had gathered, shaking hands and chatting with those eager to discuss their own experiences with him. To his right sat Rosemary Ellen Guiley, author of The Encyclopedia and Alchemy, as well as several volumes on Witchcraft (some of which I would use as resources for this book). Before the two of them stood Joshua P. Warren, my friend and associate of several years, who glanced around and, with a happy, excited gesture, motioned for Buckland and I to come over for an introduction.

Moody was sincere and approachable, and received the two latest arrivals warmly. We shook hands, and his pronounced grip seemed to fit snugly along with his smooth southern dialect.

“Micah, it’s great to meet you, and I’ve heard so many wonderful things from Joshua,” he said as we greeted each another.

“Well Dr. Moody, don’t believe everything you’ve heard,” I joked with him. The character that radiated through his words made it easy to see why people loved him so much; he was perhaps one of the sincerest people I’ve ever met. After a little more casual conversation, things began to congeal and formalize somewhat. Just before dinner, waitresses appeared carting glasses of wine and expensive, ice-cold Belgian beers into the room on decorated metal carts. As drinks were poured, Moody began to lapse into discussion with the group, explaining how some of his classical leanings and early education led to the discovery of his “secret weapon”—the psychomanteum—and how he uses this in his own unique brand of grief counseling.

Classical Musings: A Life in the Practice

As a young man studying philosophy at the University of Virginia, Moody had been fascinated with the works of the Classical Greek philosophers, and felt right at home reading the musings of Socrates, Plato and others. It was during his time in Virginia that he first learned of people’s encounters with what Moody would later call “near-death experiences.” He had learned about a psychiatry professor there at the University named George Ritchie who, several years earlier during a life-threatening experience had been pronounced clinically dead. Ritchie was revived in nothing short of a miraculous medical recovery, and to Moody’s great interest, had described having “an astonishing experience” while lingering between death and the afterlife.

“I had heard about experiences of this sort, and was interested in it from the perspective of consciousness,” Moody said. Later, once he had become a philosophy teacher himself, one of Moody’s own students approach him with a similar story, who also described having been pronounced dead after a car accident and having a remarkable experience. Moody was stunned to learn that his student had described an experience nearly identical in every way to that of Professor George Ritchie.

Over the years, instances like this began to change Moody’s feelings about the nature of life after death. Claiming such phrases deal only with temporal or spatial relationships, he expresses, “what people who have near-death experiences tell me is that what they experienced wasn’t even temporal or spatial in the sense that you and I appreciate it. So, what I’m interested in is altered states of consciousness and I think that the old questions of whether there is a life after death or the beyond… have to be revised.”

It was also through his study of Greek philosophy that Moody first discovered references to the psychomanteum, a bizarre mirrored room designed as a conduit for communications with the spirit realm. Since the 1960s, Moody had been brainstorming on ways near-death experiences could be reproduced or “triggered” in a clinical setting. This would allow researchers the benefit of studying these experiences in real-time as they occurred, without having “to fall back on anecdotes told after the fact.” Moody, always the optimist, had also hoped to be able to harness some of the positive effects described by those who had these experiences. One evening around 1990, he had been pondering how one might separate the common elements reported during near-death experiences, when he came to a realization: if apparitions of the deceased are as common as they appear in the demographic studies he had conducted, then humans must be highly predisposed to them. “Why not rearrange circumstances in such a way as to heighten the likelihood that (encounters with apparitions) would occur under a given circumstance so that we could be there to monitor the person with electroencephalograms, and get a fresh account before the mind might have had time subconsciously to distort or elaborate it?” It was then that Moody says he recalled a moment in 1962 at the University of Virginia, during a session in his liberal arts seminar class. Moody remembered how Herodotus, the first historian, told a story about a place where the ancient Greeks would go to visit departed relatives. Whatever the circumstances were that allowed it, Herodotus described that people who went to this place somehow had first-hand experiences with the spirit realm.

Moody found this to be in stark contrast to the indirect nature of contact through mediumship. Legends involving similar circumstances, namely the Oracle at Delphi, described the Pythia—a sort of medium acting as a seer and interpreter—being lowered into a pit to converse with spirits rather than those individuals who actually sought to make contact. Emerging from the pit, which some anthropologists have suggested contained hallucinatory gases, she would then bring “messages” back to those meant to receive them.

Moody was fascinated by Herodotus’ descriptions of direct spirit communications, and even found references to similar circumstances described in the Odyssey. To his excitement, Moody discovered that the hero Odysseus actually travels to the same location described by Herodotus; the Oracle of the Dead, or the Nekyomanteion at Thesprotia in a region of Greece to the Northwestern called Epirus. What in the name of God were they doing there, Moody had boldly asked, while other scholars had long assumed that the writings of Herodotus and Homer, as well as similar references to the Oracle of the Dead made by the Greek geographer Strabo, were all based on mere legends.

However, further back in 1958 at least one other scholar had found people’s dismissal of esoteric elements found in Classical Greek documents to be in bad taste. Greek archaeologist Sotirios Dakaris had decided he would literally try and find the location described by both Homer and Herodotus. If he succeeded, he hoped to see once and for all if there was a remnant of Homer’s “Halls of Hades and Dread Persephone”, where Odysseus went to consult the prophet Tiresias about how to find his way home to Ithaca. Incidentally, in Homer’s Odyssey, the location is described as being “near the city of the Cimmerian people wrapped in mist and cloud.” Moody argues that scholars have misread this for generations, and that Herodotus had meant Cheimerians, a group of people who lived near Thesprotia, exactly the location of Herodotus’ Nekyomanteion. Upon going to the area and following clues in the landscape included by Homer in the Odyssey, Dakaris discovered a remarkable complex on the hill of St. John the Baptist, overlooking the Acheron River. Beneath this building, Dakaris also discovered an enormous subterranean chamber, complete with a vast corridor and what he believed were dormitory rooms where people would stay while waiting their turn to visit whom, without a doubt, must have been the Oracle of the Dead. Dakaris found that one end of the long corridor emptied into a complex maze, which ultimately lead to a fifty-foot long “apparition hallway”. Here rested an enormous bronze cauldron surrounded by a banister, which Dakaris believed was evidence that people who came to see the apparitions had been staring in the direction of the cauldron.

Though Dakaris had discovered the real-life counterpart to an enduring Greek legend, his interpretation of the role the cauldron played was rather simplistic, guessing the Oracle would merely hide within, springing forth and acting out the role of deceased entities before people who visited. Relying on knowledge of ancient Greek scrolls discovered in distant locales like Egypt that divulged magical practices, Moody’s interpretations were different. He believed the cauldron had instead been filled with liquid, providing a reflective surface and used in a fashion similar to mirror gazing. “I decided that this must have been what they were doing at Epirus, the Oracle of the Dead on the Acheron. I set up a situation in my own research facility; I built a chamber, not using a cauldron but a mirror surrounded by a black velvet curtain and arranged in such a way so that a person sitting in the booth does not see their own reflection, but a clear optical depth.” Then, Moody began allowing people to enter the room and gaze into the mirror, dimly lit with indirect lighting, to see if indeed any strange experiences might occur. What he found surprised him more than he could have imagined.

“I thought it was going to be at least ten percent,” he guessed, hoping at least some of his participants might report odd experiences. “It ended up being closer to fifty!” Even more astonishing, a portion of the test subjects that were having experiences described full-body apparitions appearing in the mirror, and slowly emerging from it to interact with them three-dimensionally. According to Moody, thirty percent of the subjects even described hearing the audible voices of deceased loved ones who appeared before them, some even describing elaborate conversations they had with the apparitions. “And very nicely,” Moody adds, “the subjects who have been going through this have reported that it helped them with the grief. It helped them tidy up the unfinished business.” Moody feels that his experiments using the mirror to re-create the psychomanteum environment coincides with reports dating as far back as over a century ago, where apparitional forms have commonly been witnessed first in mirrors or reflective surfaces. “The accounts that subjects give in the psychomanteum,” Moody says, “are identical to the accounts we hear from people who have (witnessed) spontaneous apparitions. So, I think we’ve done it!”

“I’m Looking at the Man in the Mirror”

Surprisingly, this notion that reflective surfaces might be conducive to apparitional appearances isn’t quite as esoteric as it may seem. As far back as 1863, English novelist and playwright Wilkie Collins wrote of his experiences with mirror gazing, inspired by John Dee’s experiments, that sound remarkably similar to what Moody describes in a typical psychomanteum session:

I retire to my private sitting-room, take up my black mirror, mention what I want—and behold! On the surface of the cannel coal the image of my former travels passes before me, in a succession of dream-scenes. I revive my past experiences, and I make my present choice out of them, by the evidence of my own eyes; and, I may add, by that of my own ears also—for the figures in my magic landscape move and speak!

Similarly, the late “King of Pop” Michael Jackson described a room in his home at Neverland Ranch that had walls covered with mirrors. Within this room, Jackson said he had on many occasions spoken with the ghost of famous flamboyant pianist Liberace, who died in 1987. “I have my own secret room, with a moving wall and mirrors,” Jackson once said. “That’s where I talk to Lee. His is the voice I hear in there. I feel his presence so very close to me. (Liberace) is like my guardian angel. He’s even given me permission to record his theme song ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’.” In the field of psychic phenomenon and purported hauntings, it is commonly accepted that mirrors bear some kind of energy that is conducive to the appearances of ghosts. Various methods of “spirit photography” involve aiming the lens of a camera into a mirror to capture its field of vision, which some believe will reveal the presence of ghosts in a location alleged to be haunted.

During our retreat in Ridgecrest, many participants described strange things that occurred while staring into Moody’s mirror. Ray Buckland mentioned feeling a dark, disturbing presence in the room with him at one point. Another time, Buckland also described sensing a presence that reminded him of his father. Mike Nesbitt, a Civil War historian with a penchant for ghost hunting, carried a digital camera with him, as well as an audio recorder in case an apparition decided to speak. Though nothing strange happened while in the psychomanteum itself, upon reviewing the audio Nesbitt was startled to find a strange, dark rumbling present on the recording, which at times sounded almost like a low growl. Still others would describe shadowy silhouettes and cloudy “forms” that would drift in-and-out of their field of view while staring into the mirror.

Unfortunately, the snowy clouds of February were the only similar apparitions I managed to witness; this, along with several scheduling conflicts, prevented me from being able to stay the entire weekend with Moody and the others. Still, I was glad to hear that during the seminar many fascinating accounts were shared and discussed, and several of those attending went home with certification to practice legitimate “psychomanteum grief counseling” on their own. One of these individuals was Joshua Warren, and several days later at his home in Asheville, he described for me with great excitement the process outlined by Moody that lead to these profound interactions with the spirit realm.

“Moody says that you need to combine sessions where you speak with the person who wants to make contact,” Josh told me, “along with sessions within the psychomanteum itself. Each successive visit into the psychomanteum gets a little longer… a little longer.” Josh’s voice began to fade to a whisper as he said this. “Finally, after several discussions and subsequent visits to the psychomanteum, you leave them in there for two, maybe even three hours. The idea is to not tell them how long they’re staying, but let them know that you’re just going right down the hall, and that they should take all the time they need. That’s when they really start to see shit.”

Josh began to backtrack, and discussed something of particular interest to me; the precise moment when the councilor would know the grieving person is ready to enter the psychomanteum. “It happens very instantly. You begin the first session by asking a series of questions like, ‘who do you want to contact? Tell me your fondest memory of them. What is your least pleasant memory of this person? Did this person ever make you feel uncomfortable? What, if you could speak to the deceased person one last time, would you ask them?’ After a while, there is an exact instant, and you’ll know it when you see it, that the energy just shifts.” Josh sort of made a gesture with his arms and upper body as he described this, dropping his hands and allowing his shoulders to droop as though he were tired or exasperated. “This is the moment where, sometimes along with a brief pause, they will tell you, or maybe only express to you without words that ‘this is it, that’s all’. It’s as though there’s nothing more to say, and they are completely overcome with emotion, or have maybe reached some sort of mental or emotional barrier. At that moment, they are ready to enter the psychomanteum.”

Josh, ever since leaving the seminar, had planned to convert his guest bedroom into a fully functional psychomanteum, complete with a few additions that he felt would make it more conducive to activity. Along with a black light he placed behind the comfortable armchair that faced the mirror he purchased for his setup, he also included a small radio that he kept tuned to the white noise between stations. The mild hiss it provided would create a wall of ambient sound, blanketing one’s ears from noise coming from outside the psychomanteum. I also found that Josh would sometimes introduce other subtle variables—often of a more sinister nature—which I would learn about much later on.

Finders Keepers

There was one final twist to this story, and a remarkable one, to say the least. As Dr. Moody and his wife had been leaving Ridgecrest in February, they asked Josh for a favor: The Moodys had planned to leave early on Sunday morning, though many of those attending the seminar had planned to stay through lunch time, hoping to be able to experiment within the psychomanteum a little longer. Since the Moodys had brought the good doctor’s personal mirror from their home in Georgia, the same that hundreds of individuals had used to access the spirit realm over the last several decades, Josh began to inquire about using a different mirror. To his surprise, Dr. Moody’s wife told him, “Don’t worry about it. Just keep that one for now and ship it back to us.” On that note, Moody and his wife departed, and several of the attendees continued to experiment. Once things finally drew to a close Josh gathered the mirror and, after being wrapped carefully in cloth and bubble wrap, it was placed in the trunk of his car.

That’s when the strangeness began to occur.

Ridgecrest sits on the lower slopes of Old Fort Mountain, which lay on the outermost edges of the small town of Black Mountain, where Josh and his wife Lauren stopped to have brunch before heading back into Asheville. As they locked their car and headed into the restaurant, Josh and Lauren both heard a distinct knocking sound coming from their car.

“I think Lauren actually noticed it first,” Josh recalled. “We began walking back in the direction of my car, and as we got closer to where we were parked, it sounded like the knocking was coming from inside the trunk of my car.” Josh glanced at Lauren, and bracing himself, unlocked the vehicle and threw open the trunk, thinking some small animal had been trapped inside at some point during their weekend in the remote wilds of Ridgecrest. Inside, there were no signs of the knocking, nor anything which might have caused the noise; only Dr Moody’s mirror, still wrapped in cloth as Josh had left it.

“When we got back to Asheville, I was dreading having to go to the hassle of sending the mirror back in the mail,” Josh admitted. “That’s when it occurred to me that maybe he’d allow me to take it off his hands.” After a brief email exchange and a bit of haggling, Josh convinced Dr Moody’s wife to sell him the mirror. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at Josh’s house for my own first experience in the psychomanteum, and there on the wall hung Raymond Moody’s mirror personal mirror—the very same used by the likes of Diane Sawyer and other famous guests to Moody’s “Theater of the Mind.” Josh had decided upon obtaining the mirror that it was time to retire it, and instead of acting as a portal that would take my mind into the bowels of another dimension later that evening, it seemed destined to remain on the wall in his living room as a centerpiece. It remains there to this day, resting peacefully as though having found its way to him. Perhaps this was for the better anyway; based on what he had told me already, the mirror seemed to have a good bit of “juju” in it, to borrow the term I had heard Moody’s wife use in this regard.

My initial experiences with the psychomanteum were uneventful at best, though I remember feeling an urge to “hold back” during my early sessions. I had envisioned entering the psychomanteum and placing myself before a formidable “gateway” of sorts; perhaps not just a portal to alien worlds and alternate dimensions, but maybe to even more remote places; if nothing else, perhaps the horrors hidden deepest among my own darkest thoughts. Spiritual dimensions where only the extremities of good and evil existed as embodied specters, things I didn’t particularly care to have leaping out of a mirror into the room with me. I figured that, whether these were “specters of the mind” as I liked to call them, or something else; if my own mind was the limit, I could expect just about anything.

As I sat down in the darkened room for the first time, my eyes just beginning to adjust to the light (or lack thereof), Josh remained with me for several minutes and described the setting, what I might expect to see, and finally, how to get “there”. During those few minutes, I was far more relaxed, having Josh only a few feet away, and found myself instantly able to perceive strange visual distortions. As he spoke, and as my eyes became slowly capable of distinguishing shadows and other features in the room around me, I would notice that gazing into the mirror instantly created a strange, “negative” sort of perception of the room; not in the sense of a negative energy, but literally an exchange between light and dark attributes. Watching the mirror intently, the lightened walls, illuminated only by the black light behind me, began to darken. The strange effect of an apparitional glow began to manifest on the surface of the mirror, as though it insisted on being the only visible presence in the room. By this time, Josh was announcing that he would be back soon, and that I would only remain alone in the psychomanteum for ten minutes, after which he would come retrieve me. I closed my eyes, so that the light from the hallway wouldn’t compromise my vision after getting accustomed to the dark, and once I heard the door close, I opened my eyes and kept them fixed on the mirror.

Again, I began to see this negative-space effect take place, something I would later hear another describe as the point where “the mirror exits.” This would come and go, and I found it frustrating that blinking seemed to cause the effect to regress somewhat. Beyond the coming and going of the light and dark areas surrounding the mirror in this way, what I’ve described thus far comprises all I saw during my first couple of sessions. I was aware that all this was nothing more than a bizarre optical illusion, but supposed that perhaps the strange sensations that occurred from stimulating one’s vision in this way could possibly induce an altered state of consciousness. Or, could it be that the often intense, emotional questioning that Moody prescribed prior to entering served as a sort of preparation for the experience in the psychomanteum itself? Did the key to making these “apparitions” appear actually lay in the series of questions Moody had told us the counselor was to ask the grieving prior to the experience?

Later, I found that this might not be the case either. Having been somewhat disappointed after my third visit inside the psychomanteum (during which I actually fell asleep for a short period), I decided I would wait and see what experiences others were having. Perhaps, I had reckoned, I was in the “other fifty-percent” of Moody’s demographic, comprised of those who didn’t perceive any apparitions, visions, or voices. Only a few weeks later, an opportunity soon presented itself to gather an outside perspective, during a visit Josh had with a couple of friends from out of town. The two gentlemen brought with them a young lady nicknamed “Tigger”, who conveniently had never heard of a psychomanteum. Rising to the occasion, Josh suggested that Tigger enter for a short session, lasting maybe thirty minutes, which she agreed to do, giving her no background information as to what might occur within. Surprisingly, after her session she emerged weeping, claiming that her deceased grandmother had emerged from the mirror and spoke to her! Much of the remainder of the visit was spent consoling the young lady, as well as explaining to her the nature of what she had experienced.

Around this same time, during a telephone discussion with my friend Vance Pollock, he revealed to me that Josh had also scheduled a session for him on the evening of Wednesday, July 2, 2008. I was particularly interested in hearing what kind of an experience he would have after learning of Tigger’s “encounter”, as Vance remains one of the most intelligent, discerning, and reasoning people I know.

Josh and I were introduced to him at an investigation we did at a restaurant in the area that, during the 1930s, had been one of the publishing headquarters of none other than William Dudley Pelley. A Nazi sympathizer and World War II political activist, it was Pelley who wrote about the striking manifestations produced by spirit medium Bertie Lilly Candler on a number of occasions (as described in Chapter one). Pelley had lived at various locations in and around the Asheville area prior to the war, and had published a variety of strange propaganda and occult material, including a rare book titled Why I Believe the Dead Are Alive. Also of particular interest was a pamphlet Pelley wrote called Seven Minutes in Eternity, detailing an out-of-body experience he claimed to have had around 1928.

For several years, Vance had been contacting Josh, urging him to “investigate” many of these areas Pelley had been associated with in his lifetime, since his fascination with the spirit world might have some bearing on hauntings associated with the locations in the present day. Once we finally met and discussed such prospects with him in person, Vance became an instant friend and regular associate of ours.

“Yeah, if you’re not doing anything that evening, you should definitely come out with us. I’ll be bringing Lee along as well.” This also inspired me, since Lee Brooks, a high school friend of Vance’s from Florida who had also relocated to Asheville, shared our bizarre interests in mysticism and esoteric mysteries.

“Count me in,” I told him. “I’ll be there with bells on, scribbling notes about all this.” Though I expected Vance would probably have an experience not unlike those I’d already had myself, I secretly hoped something extraordinary would take place the following Wednesday. Indeed, I would later notice many similarities between our experiences; but to my surprise, what actually transpired for him ended up being far stranger. In fact, I doubt I could never have prepared myself for just how dark things would end up getting.

Click here to buy Micah A. Hanks’ Magic, Mysticism and the Molecule

For info about autographed copies or other questions, email your request to info@gralienreport.com

Back in late 2005, I traveled to Puerto Rico with good friend, Canadian Paul Kimball of Red Star Films, and his crew, which consisted of Paul’s brother Jim, John Rosborough, and Findlay Muir. The purpose of the week-long trek was to make a film – road-trip-style – that would see me and Puerto Rican Orlando Pla (a local expert on the beast) on a quest for the truth about the monstrous thing said to be roaming the island: namely, the Chupacabras.

Well, I’m pleased to say, the production – titled Island of Blood – is now available as a 3-part installment, which you can find at the link below this email. Enjoy… or be very afraid!

And as Paul himself says: “It’s always fun when I have a new film that premieres, and today is no exception. This time it’s not on television (although it will probably wind up there in one form or another at some point), or in the theater, or the other usual media – nope, this time it’s right here, free of charge, direct to you. The Island of Blood is a low budget, lo-fi, slightly tongue-in-cheek, mostly serious look at the chupacabra phenomonon in Puerto Rico with my good pal Nick Redfern and Puerto Rican researcher Orlando Pla. It also features interviews with real witnesses, and an official government investigator of the phenomenon.”

Click here to visit Nick’s blog on “The Island of Blood”

Of the reports concerning missiles fired from the ocean near the Southern coast, journalist C.L. Cook quoted MacKay, who said “We [the Canadian government] will provide money to build a landing strip for UFOs at Harbour Mille.” The Defense Minister quickly added that this was a joke, and assured news agencies that he had “checked with foreign countries,” claiming there is “no cause for panic.”

Late last week, a few key witnesses suggested that Royal Canadian Mounted Police officials may have advised that a missile launch had taken place, but a spokesperson, Sgt. Wayne Edgecombe, quickly asserted that these were only rumors. Statements issued later were even less conclusive, merely explaining they had “gotten to the bottom” of the mystery, and forwarded further requests to Public Safety Canada. What is known, however, is that the RCMP is in charge of the official investigation.

Looking elsewhere, The French Ministry of Defence has also drummed up controversy, after posting a message on its website admitting to the launch of a missile from a submarine around the same time. However, according to the flight path described by witnesses of the Harbour Mille UFO, the French also advised that this could not have been the missile they launched.

Based on the evidence available at present, the objects seen over Newfoundland were, in all likelihood, missiles or other projectiles; who fired them, and for what purpose, remains a mystery. As concerned officials continue probing the situation to discover whether public safety was ever in jeopardy, perhaps more answers will come to light as to the identity of the strange “ghost rockets” seen over Newfoundland last week.

It’s finally here… the inaugural edition of a brand new feature you’ll be seeing more of here at the Gralien Report: “Gradio Podcasts.” By following this link you can learn more about the new show, as well as download the latest edition featuring special guest Timothy Green Beckley. Tim (aka Mr. UFO) shares his legendary insights pertaining to UFOs, subterranean mysteries, MIBs, late-night radio and a huge number of other esoteric subjects… not an interview you’ll want to miss!

Click here to visit the new “Gradio Podcast” page!