It’s a different kind of Mothman tale in many ways, yet not so much at the same time. Communications between Mothman and humans on profoundly emotional levels seems to be a part of the phenomena for some, as well as premonitions of the Silver Bridge collapse.

What came through from mainly the woman’s voice, was that they were looking for someone named “Charnie” or “Charny” (char-knee) and that I was her, or, it, or, him. Not sure. And, this all had something to do with Mothman. They seemed to think I knew things about Mothman and that I was keeping it from them, and, that I was this “Charnie” person.

At that point I get very annoyed. I tell them I am not “Charnie,” whoever the hell that is, and that, even if I did know things about Mothman, why should I tell them — who are they anyway?

They continue to demand I give up my supposed insider information on Mothman, and I continue to tell them to leave me alone. Bits of music, static and broken, intimidating voices come through the phone line. . .

From UFO Mystic: “Mothman Phone Home”
Here’s a 2006 article on Mothman’s phone number from Greg Bishop at UFO Mystic: “Mothman, Phone Home.”

“…there was a number printed which the writer said had been around since the late 1960s and connected the caller to the Mothman hisself. I called the number and got a Voice. It was eerie and mechanical. What I heard was a long fax-machine-like tone followed by “TIME 034600…ENTER COMMAND.” With no other ideas, I punched a couple of digits and was treated to another seemingly meaningless string of integers followed by the “ENTER COMMAND” command. The numbers didn’t seem to advance with time, they just seemed random.”

The comments that follow the post are worth reading as well.

Googling Charnie/Charny
Out of Fortean curiosity, I searched Charny; the first thing that came up was a Wikipedia entry on the Canadian town of Charny, which I’ve never heard of. A strange bit of town information:

Charny has reached regional exposure many times over the last twenty years struggling with Alex Couture Inc., a plant which buys dead animal corpses in order to recycle them, producing salable by-products. The plant generated bad smells and odours throughout the city. The plant has installed filters to screen out any odours.

Sad creepy echoes of death and animals, and a town history of insidious companies in connection with the Pt. Pleasant and Ohio areas that Colvin, among others, talk about in their research.
Mechanical Voices
In December 2009 I wrote about mechanical voices and Mothman here.

On November 15, 1966, the World was introduced to the phenomenon that would become known as Mothman. After the first sighting reported by the press 44 years ago in the papers of the day, soon a copyeditor in Ohio, a fan of the “Batman” series then on television, would coin the word “Mothman” because it fit in the headlines better. The sightings of a “Big Bird” had become a “big insect” with one copyeditor’s action.

For the rest, visit Cryptomundo .

I was working on my Orange Orb column for UFO Magazine last night (wrote a full article on one memory “dream” that I call the “bedroom radiator alien” but followed where that led me, to an earlier memory, of the following “dream.” ) Like my patio alien “dream” I had around the same age (but in a different house) this memory has stayed with me for some fifty years or so, as vivid as the day it happened. It wasn’t a dream and yet, it must have been, since it couldn’t have literally happened:

I’m flat on my back in the dead center of my bed, which I remember as being large, and white; white sheets, and just a white covering. The bedroom is lit up very bright; which I wonder at: if I’m supposed to be asleep why are all the lights on?

I am so full of happiness!!!! I have an expectant joy that is so wonderful; I know “they” are coming. I stare up at the ceiling in anticipation. The ceiling opens up, two halves move up and outwards, revealing the starry night sky.

A giant eagle — so huge it’s almost the size of the open ceiling — swoops down from the sky, to my left, and down into the bedroom, right above me. It’s come to take me up. As the eagle flies into the room I turn and see my parents, my grandmother, and some others, standing in the doorway. They seem to be stuck there; they aren’t coming into the room. They’re just watching. I’m very glad to see my father but am a little confused; he doesn’t live with us and I don’t understand why or how it is he’s here.

The eagle comes, it’s so fantastic!

It wasn’t until last night that I realized there is a Thunderbird and Mothman connection to this experience. At age five or so I didn’t know what Thunderbirds were, nor did I know anything about Mothman of course.

I started doing some research about eagles in terms of UFO accounts and before I knew it, I had found all kinds of interesting things; things that will take awhile to explore.

One thing I found that I haven’t read fully but did skim is an article for the E.L.F. Infested Spaces (ELFIS) ‘zine by Jeffrey Lewis: Idiot Stick – Whitley Strieber’s Encounters. It is very esoteric and I only mention it because of the thinking done by Lewis on the nature of dreams, memories, symbolism and connections in the context of UFOs, aliens and entities. Frankly I don’t know what to make of it but as I say, I haven’t given it the attention needed. (There is much there; this is a site that will take you in many directions. . . )

Mentioned, I think, somewhere on the Elfis site, was something about the myth of Leda and the Swan; I also found a passing reference to the Greek myth in Erik Davis’s 1993 My Favorite Martians: A UFO Epistomology — this myth in context of UFO experiences has been addressed by UFO and esoteric researchers before. The comparison of this theme of a god like being or entity (Zeus), disguised as an animal that is familiar to humans, coming from the skies to have sexual relations with a human female to alien-UFO abduction and contactee accounts is an obvious one to explore in terms of alien-UFO stories.

I am not suggesting my memory had anything to do with anything so literal or sexual — but the comparisons and connections, all those glittering threads that reveal themselves when going tumbling down the rabbit hole of esoterica — are natural ones to follow for Fortean junkies like myself.

All that aside, bird and winged – being imagery is strong in UFO accounts, and that includes Mothman accounts.

Image: Leda and the Swan, painting by artist from the School of Leonardo da Vinci, 1505-1510, public domain.

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http://orangeorb.blogspot.com

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.

I look up at the ceiling, and it opens up, opening from the center, two halves moving back to expose the nighttime sky, which is beautiful, full of inky blue and shimmering stars. I think this is a pretty neat trick. A giant eagle flies down from above; the eagle is so large, it fills the sky, fills the open ceiling. It comes down straight at me. I don’t like this too much. I’m not exactly frightened, but it’s not comfortable. The eagle takes me up into a silver disk type thing.