Jimi Hendrix is reported to have had a number of interesting claims 
regarding aliens, 2012, etc.

<brotherblue93@hotmail.com> wrote in message 
news:1103159291.065004.6330@f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com...
Source: The Telegraph - London

12-07-04

The Night Aliens Called On Lennon

They came in the darkness and had bug-like faces. Stranger
still, they left a weird egg-shaped object behind. Uri Geller
recalls his friend John Lennon's encounter with the unknown

There is an egg-like object in my pocket. It was given to me by
John Lennon. And it was given to him by... well, I'll come to
that.

We were eating in a restaurant in New York City. Yoko was with
us, so this was after their big break-up and reconciliation.
Yoko was expecting their child, Sean, and John was excited - he
was going to love this baby day and night: feed him, change him,
teach him to talk, teach him to love music.

He did all of that. And he was going to watch him grow into
adolescence, through the tumbles from bicycles and terrors of
schooldays, from reading to dating to college. He never got to
do that. John started talking about UFOs.

He said he believed life existed on other planets, that it had
visited us, that maybe it was observing us right now. He took me
to a quieter, darker table, lit a cigarette and pointed its
glowing tip at my face.

"You believe in this stuff, right?" he asked me. "Well, you
ain't f---in' gonna believe this.

"About six months ago, I was asleep in my bed, with Yoko, at
home, in the Dakota Building. And suddenly, I wasn't asleep.
Because there was this blazing light round the door. It was
shining through the cracks and the keyhole, like someone was out
there with searchlights, or the apartment was on fire.

"That was what I thought - intruders, or fire. I leapt out of
bed, and Yoko wasn't awake at all, she was lying there like a
stone, and I pulled open the door. There were these four people
out there."

"Fans?" I asked him.

"Well they didn't want my f---in' autograph. They were, like,
little. Bug-like. Big bug eyes and little bug mouths and they
were scuttling at me like roaches."

He broke off and stared at me.

"I've told this to two other people, right? One was Yoko, and
she believes me. She says she doesn't understand it, but she
knows I wouldn't lie to her. I told one other person, and she
didn't believe me.

"She laughed it off, and then she said I must have been high.
Well, I've been high, I mean right out of it, a lot of times,
and I never saw anything on acid that was as weird as those f---
in' bugs, man. Friends: Lennon and Geller in conversation

"I was straight that night. I wasn't dreaming and I wasn't
tripping. There were these creatures, like people but not like
people, in my apartment."

"What did they do to you?" Lennon swore again. "How do you know
they did anything to me, man?" "Because they must have come for
a reason."

"You're right. They did something. But I don't know what it was.
I tried to throw them out, but, when I took a step towards them,
they kind of pushed me back. I mean, they didn't touch me. It
was like they just willed me. Pushed me with willpower and
telepathy."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Something happened. Don't ask me what. Either
I've forgotten, blocked it out, or they won't let me remember.
But after a while they weren't there and I was just lying on the
bed, next to Yoko, only I was on the covers.

"And she woke up and looked at me and asked what was wrong. I
couldn't tell her at first. But I had this thing in my hands.
They gave it to me."

"What was it?" Lennon dug into his jeans pocket. "I've been
carrying it round ever since, wanting to ask somebody the same
question. You have it. Maybe you'll know."

I took the metal, egg-like object and turned it over in the dim
light. It seemed solid and smooth, and I could make out no
markings. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Keep it." John told me. "It's too weird for me. If it's my
ticket to another planet, I don't want to go there."

When we first met on November 28, 1974, almost exactly 30 years
ago, he was suffering terribly from his separation from Yoko.
His drug abuse and drinking, linked to the sorrow of Yoko's
recent miscarriage, had driven them apart, and John desperately
wanted to mend the relationship.

He just didn't know how to make the first move. The night Lennon
and I were introduced, Elton John was playing at Madison Square
Gardens. Elton was trying to persuade the ex-Beatle to get up on
stage with him, and John was torn - he wanted to perform but he
was scared.

Finally, he turned to me and offered a deal, as though I were a
negotiator sent by God: "I'll sing," he said, "but you have to
make Yoko call me."

Like all of John's jokes, this one was a plea from the heart,
wrapped in a sardonic quip. Yoko phoned John out of the blue, 36
hours later. I think John always believed I had beamed a mind-
control ray at her. For my part, I think that of all the
synchronicities that have shaped my life, that was one of the
strangest.

John Lennon was a compulsive doodler. The last autograph he ever
signed, 15 minutes before Mark Chapman gunned him down outside
his home at the Dakota Building, on December 9, 1980, features a
double portrait of himself and his wife, Yoko Ono. The drawings
are done in a couple of lines - the style is unmistakable and so
are the faces.

I always marvelled at John's skill as an artist. There is no
doubt that, if he'd been tone deaf and tuneless, the boy who
created The Beatles could have become a successful painter or
illustrator. During the last year of his life, we met most weeks
to chat over a coffee in one of the hotels near our New York
homes.

Sometimes John would bring Sean, who was about four years old
then. The rocker had put his music career on hold while the
child was small. John once told me how bitterly he regretted
that while his first son, Julian, was a toddler, he himself was
devoting his energies to the stage or the studio, or would be
out partying with friends.

"You don't get those years back," he said. "I'm not going to
miss a minute while Sean is growing up."

That is the greatest tragedy of my friend's death. He had
finally learned what made him happy, and then he was robbed of
it. What really interested me about John was not his incredible
life, his fame or his talent, but his deep spirituality.

I too was working out what made me happy - I'd realised at last
that buying watches and eating six helpings of dessert before
making myself throw up was not the path to nirvana.

The shock of Lennon's murder was one of the powerful forces that
drove me to quit New York and spend a year in Japan, undergoing
a spiritual detox. John spoke with passion about Japanese views
of life, and I am certain that Yoko's philosophies were at the
core of his last years.

I was woken on the day John was shot by a call from a friend,
Roland, a publisher who lived opposite the Dakota.

"He's dead," Roland sobbed. "They killed John." I dressed in a
few seconds and ran across town: somehow I had to see the house
to believe the news. The radio reports weren't enough.

If John really were dead, if this wasn't some sick media hoax,
then there would be people outside his home with candles and
prayer bells. They were there, in their hundreds already.

I didn't have to push my way through the crowd; I simply stood
and stared across the road, and then walked away through Central
Park with the tears running down my face.

Now, 24 years on, when I hold the cold, metal egg in my fist, I
have a strong sensation that John knew more about this object
than he told me. Maybe it didn't come with an instruction
manual, but I think John knew what it was for.

And whatever that purpose was - communication? healing? a first-
class intergalactic ticket? - it scared him. I wish I could have
warned him... that however scary aliens seem, it's the humans
you have to fear.

-=oOo=-

Another cross-cultural memetic seeding experiment courtesy of:

Brother Blue, B:.B:., 33�, 8=3
Dr. Blue Resonant Human, Ph.D.
Interdimensional Intelligence Analyst
Sacerdotal Knights of National Security
USENET Meme Acquisition and Propagation Directorate
"An Equal Opportunity Mystickal Fraternity and Stuff"
http://web.archive.org/web/19980424200237/http://www.brotherblue.org/
- - - - -           -=:::oOo:::=-           - - - - -