Beyond Boundaries UFO logo art by Lowell Tanquary

Day of the Dead

The Candle Kid by Stuart ConwayFrom Joyce's Notebook:
Time: November 1996
Place: Ramada Hotel
Mexico City Airport

 

Photo: "The Candle Kid" by Stuart Conway      

We had just finished filming 10 segments for a popular TV Show which the producers later dubbed "The MeX files". Each segment was edited later in the Burbank studios and each supplied a 10 min part of one of their shows. Our Mex Files actually were seen spread over ten different shows. It is amazing how television can stretch information out to get maximum entertainment for minimum dollars spent.

"The MeX Files" was an appropriate title as our sighting event was definitely X file material. "How could I have been any luckier," I was thinking as the huge mothership hovered overhead saying, "hello?" Of course, it was just a strange light to us on the ground that night across the road from the Mt. Popocateptl volcano. Through our "state of the art" nightvision equipment the slowly moving light most definitely did not resemble a drug drop plane known to work in the area. We were accompanied on our nightwatch by a group of 40 local friends who often saw such lights at night. They have also had many sightings of the more standard metallic craft by day around that infamous volcano. As with all active volcanoes of the world UFOs are seen almost regularly going into and coming out of them.

On a previous expedition we had been told by expert researchers that the volcano actually housed a reptilian base This is the threatening volcano that seems right on the brink of a massive eruption. Its daily smoke and occasional lava burping from the top causes the yellow alert to change to a red warning instantaneously for the area residents. Across from the "reptilian base" is another mountain where a huge alien face showed up one day about 3 years ago, the residents told us. The face seems to be a little grey formed from rocks and crevices in the hillside. The gravitational anomaly on the nearby road was thought to be the nuclear waste disposal from the reptilian base. This factoid came from the same researchers who told us the volcano housed the base. This "funny place" on the road is where we usually drive the minibus up the hill to demonstrate the anomaly. Still headed uphill we park the bus for a few minutes, using a plastic water bottle about half full to prove the incline, and any vehicle we happen to be driving when placed in neutral accelerates forward. These anomalies seem to exist near dimensional portals around the world. Who knows what purpose they really serve?

It was about 9:30 pm and just that afternoon Maria had told us her friends would come by the volcano that evening, about 9:30, to say "hello" to us. But neither Maria, who was communicating at the time telepathically with the occupants of the craft overhead, nor her lawyer father knew that they would bring out the mothership for the occasion. She and her father told us much later that they had been betting on one of the round saucer type sports craft to welcome us. Honestly I had put the idea of such an event totally out of my mind, just blew it off and had not given the possibility of such an incredible planned and orchestrated visit another thought that day!

Maria stood there with us all the while speaking telepathically in Spanish, I suppose, to her ET friends who visit and walk through her family's beautiful home often. As she communicated rather emotionally we stood nearby watching the massive light almost overhead by that time. We were absolutely freezing in the cold wind blowing on that desolate and dark Mexican hillside across from Mt. Popo. The cameraman who had been snarling under his breath all week in a Spanish growl, that we interpreted to mean, "I can't wait to get this crazy job finished so I can get away from these idiots who believe in UFOs!" was now unashamedly sobbing. This same growling cameraman was now in tears behind his giant betacam, as was the TV show producer with his Hi 8. Both men were furiously filming the event occurring overhead. The films were later analyzed and both revealed a giant barbell shaped craft, which looked much like a dogbone. The unbelievable part of the whole thing was that the mothership was actually 3 miles above us at the time it was being filmed!

As typical of many contact cases, the beings have told Maria of events to happen in our near future including the massive changes in store for our planet. Maria, her little brother, and their father have frequent contact with these interdimensional extraterrestrial beings who were now overhead us. Her family thinks of their ET friends as angels and look very much forward to their visitations in the family home.

Our Beyond Boundaries expedition team was staying at the Metepec IMSS Government Resort, which was the nearest hotel facility to the volatile volcano. It was a massive complex of huge buildings which had formerly been a textile factory. The grounds were extensive and provided outdoor swimming pools, tennis courts, horseback riding, bicycles for rent, and just about everything a vacationing family could desire. There were at least four restaurants on the grounds, all serving the most delicious real Mexican food of the area. And overshadowing the grounds was the smoking Mt. Popo in too close proximity. In the deep ravines running beside the IMSS complex were squatter families living in cardboard shacks. These were undoubtedly the paths of the molten lava should a large enough eruption occur.

I really believe that this Day of the Dead story began the night after our incredible sighting of the mother ship. We had been driving all day on the tiny dirt roads beside the fields of brilliantly colored flowers blooming in their greatest intensity. They had been planted especially to be harvested for this most important festival of the year in Mexico. During this time the towns and villages come alive with a special beauty of flowers, food, creativity, and folklore. The holiday represents a rich blend of Catholic and indigenous traditions, and is both a celebration for the living and for the dead.

Spirits of the beloved dead are believed to return to their homes and visit for a short time with their families and friends. The first day of November the souls of departed children arrive, and on the second day they are

joined by spirits of adults. Like all visitors, they are welcomed with food, drink, stories, memories, and good will. Their presence is thought of as a blessing rather than a curse, and brings joy rather than pain to their loved ones. The last days of October are spent preparing special loaves of sweet bread ("pan de muerto"), and desserts, harvesting the special flowers, creating altars in the homes and businesses, and decorating grave sites. Decorations in the form of macabre but whimsical skeletons and candy skulls abound.

Once during the day while driving along the roads near the volcano we had stopped to visit with families out cutting their flowers. They loaded just the flowering part of the stalks in their trucks for paving the streets of the villages the next day. This was total indescribable beauty! The Cockscombs have always been among my favorite flowers with their deep maroon colors and velvet texture. My favorite aunt had them growing every year in her flower beds near her fish pond during my childhood. They also were reminiscent of my long ago Sundays, as a teen aged church organist in our Methodist church which used this same color as choir robes, and for the robes of the ministers. The tactile texture of these flowers reminded me of the same color velvet displayed in the many castles I have visited throughout Europe - the color of God and Royalty to me.

This Day of the Dead story is hard to begin. During the day, 30 October, spent driving alongside the fields the families had given us literally bushels of these blooming beauties. Later that evening, the night after our wondrous sighting of the mothership and the evening before our return to the area near the Mexico City airport, we took a bottle of local wine out to the paved helicopter pad at our IMSS hotel. As we sat on the asphalt pad sharing the wine and fellowship with our expedition friends our TV producer, Bob, suddenly had one of his many such brilliant ideas. The beautiful anchor woman, Terry, for the show in production had earlier gone to her room to rest for the next day's work. Bob's idea caught on immediately with the group. He wanted to build a small fire on the big red cross in the center of the pad to burn incense. He thought we should attempt to contact our own dead ancestors. The tiny dry grass and available twigs fire was large enough to burn the paint off the large red dot in the center of the asphalt pad as we sat cross-legged meditating about our dead relatives. I think this is when we opened the doors for contact with the dark spirits leading us into the event of the next evening.

To create a path for the ancestors to arrive we tore the blooms off the now wilting flowers we had picked that day. We giggled like children as we laid the path all the way to Terry's doorway, our sleeping anchor woman. There were lots of flowers making a very long path. I am convinced now that path worked in the opposite direction of bringing the "dead" back into our own lives setting this scenario for our Day of the Dead story which took place the very next evening.

Early the morning of October 31st we envied the more sensible ones who had skipped the wine, the pad ceremony, and who had decided to sleep instead, resting and gathering energy for the next day. That morning it was hurry, hurry with our tortillas and eggs breakfast, pack 'em up, load 'em up, and take off in our little minibus toward the Mexico City airport. We visited a couple of UFO hotspots on the way including the city of Puebla where once a fleet of UFOs had caused the local TV cameramen to stop the normal broadcast and run to the roof to catch the formation on videotape. The story goes from locals that everyday at 3 PM like clockwork one can look up and see UFOs flying toward Metepec and the volcano.

We checked into the Ramada, a near the airport hotel, where the real action of this bizarre story begins. It was about 11 PM and, for the second consecutive night, everyone else with any common sense had retired for the evening.

And, this evening there were just three of us, Bob, Sam and I, with the energy to continue on into the night.

Bob had called over the bartender, who seemed to speak a little English and ordered us a round of drinks. It was my first drink and last drink of the evening and I only had one sip of that drink when the drama began.

Bob quickly engaged us in a dramatic and very animated conversation, planning our future together as a great team in television, when "HE" suddenly appeared! HE appeared standing over in the corner where there had been no one before that particular instant. There were no doors allowing normal entrance or exit. There "HE" stood waving his arms and making the same dramatic gyrations and gestures as Bob who was at that time standing beside our table. As Bob waved his arms in an effort to emphasize special points he was making, so did our intruder in the corner. HE copied every move that Bob made at the exact split second Bob was moving. That feat should have been my first warning.

I was the first of our original trio to make eye contact with the tall, skinny, strange man in the corner. HE was dressed in a dirty white shirt / smock and loose white pants, had dark hair and beard, and a white cloth tote bag hanging off his left shoulder. At the moment of eye contact with me, "HE" decided to walk over closer to our table and stand by our speaker, emulating Bob totally. HE became such a part of the waving of arms emphasis it appeared that they were choreographed in a unison dance routine. It was then the other two of our trio noticed "HIM". This was apparent to me because the look of extreme shock instantly appearing on the faces of Bob and Sam. At that time "HE" caught my eye again and took out of his dirty white totebag a book . HE handed this well worn book of mathematics and physics to me in a gesture of presentation. I was personally astonished as one of my backgrounds is in math. I opened that book in shock as I quickly found everything that had ever been included in the curriculum of my 54 university hours of pure mathematics. I closed the book, handed it back to him just as quickly as he had given it to me. HE smiled knowingly as HE stashed it back into his bag of tricks, that we later dubbed as "that dirty white" bag.

Our new "friend" looked a little hungry and much like HE could use a hot shower. His hair, while not greasy, was in need of a good shampoo. HE was definitely not one of the local Mexican people and it is doubtful that HE was even of Mexican descent. HIS skin was not dark enough, HE was too tall and slender, and as our visitor began to speak to us HE did so in perfect unaccented English.

As HE began assuming the first of his many personalities, Bob yelled, "Stop, stop! Let me buy this man a drink." The bartender came over responding to Bob's summoning wave. Bob said, "bartender, I want to buy this gentleman a drink." Looking right in the general direction of our visitor who was standing less than 3 feet away from him, our bartender said softly, "WHAT MAN?" It was at that moment we realized our new friend, dressed in dirty white, recently arriving from God knows where, only existed within our reality, the reality at the time belonging only to Bob, Sam, and me! So after a few seconds Bob had the good sense to allow the bartender his escape so he could go back to his duties of polishing the glasses. It was about this time that either Bob or Sam touched our visitor, by holding his arm for a few seconds while HE just smiled knowingly. I know that it certainly was not I who touched that man. My toes were beginning to curl in my shoes by this time which was quite unusual for me except in times when I have almost stepped on a poisonous snake. The one touching this man described our visitor to be ice cold as expected to be the sensation derived from touching a dead person. Our new friend, still standing beside our table, explained to us that he was dead and this was his day. By now the time was past 12 am, it was November 1st, The Day of the Dead in Mexico City.

As "HE" stood talking to us, our dead visitor would flip from one intriguing personality to another, changing voices for each new person, taking different patterns of intonation, inflection, and the appropriate accent, idioms, and verbiage of different periods of history. What we seemed to be witnessing was this one body being invaded by many different people of the past, and possibly some from the future.

Bob suddenly decided that we should buy this man a piece of birthday cake with a candle, since it was his birthday, this Day of the Dead. We ordered from the menu only one piece of cake complete with a candle. "HE", who looked so lean and hungry, immediately took the piece of cake and placed it on the beautifully decorated altar set up in one corner of the bar for such gifts. It was the altar in honor of deceased relatives and was laden with such gifts as this piece of birthday cake, as well as other offerings and symbols celebrating The Day of the Dead, the most festive of holidays.

Sometime during this scenario, Sam had nervously plucked a long skinny leaf from a nearby tropical potted plant. He had torn or ripped that leaf vertically at least three times, into three strips which remained connected only at it's base. HE took that leaf from Sam's hands and, running it through his long skinny dirty fingers, made it perfect again. Sam took that intact leaf back from him and ripped it at least three times lengthwise again. "HE" took it again from Sam's hands and THE LEAF WAS AGAIN MADE AS INTACT AS IT HAD BEEN WHEN FIRST REMOVED FROM THE PLANT! Three times we witnessed this miraculous event, this magical restoration to perfection. All my years I have loved the unknown and have always longed to witness things that cannot possibly happen or be explained under our physical laws. Now, watching the restoration of this leaf, I could hardly believe my own eyes! "Why, how, etc." ran through my mind but I was unable to speak, much less able to question this mysterious "dead" man. I don't know how this could have happened but it did - no tricks or deception possible. I witnessed the events - THREE TIMES - LESS THAN THREE FEET FROM MY OWN FACE !

All the personalities "HE" exhibited to us seemed to be those of amiable people, all quite pleasant and definitely intelligent and knowledgeable. Each personality contained lessons for us in the form of it's verbal messages. If the messages were not for me then they were for Bob or for Sam. There was at least one statement from each personality of importance for each one of us. It seemed as if only entities came through who were supposed to speak to one of the three of us. This remained true until HE suddenly became Fabian, whom "HE" told us he hated, and whom "HE" wanted the three of us to help him kill. Sam was from a long line of natural medium types, due to his heritage, and he knew exactly how to handle such ritualistic events. At one time during Fabian's presence the ceremony of passing a lighted cigarette around the four of us had to be conducted, Sam told me. Bob had managed to obtain a cigarette from the bartender, who was still seeing only three of us, totally unaware of our invisible friend. I had never held a cigarette in my life and it was all I could do to ceremonially pass the smelly thing right by me so the other three could take a puff. Later, around 2:30 am, "HE" produced the photo depicting Fabian from his dirty white bag of tricks. Of course, the photo exactly resembled our visitor himself. I don't think we ever heard any names for our visitor other than the various personalities projecting from him.

For me the idea of killing a bug is traumatic these days. I was thinking, "is killing a personality which may just be a figment of this man's imagination, or really a dead spirit, murder?" And I surmised, "What if we make him think we have killed Fabian, and the body hosting Fabian dies also? What if the hotel finds this strange visitor's visible body floating in the swimming pool the next morning. What if, what if, what if? But we do need to try to help our new friend don't we? How can we convince Fabian to leave and never come back into this body?" So somehow the idea of burning Fabian came to mind. We could just burn the stupid photo and it would be done. And this tortured body before us, dead or alive, would finally rest in peace. He would only be possessed by his umpteen other more pleasant personalities.

"Okay," Bob and Sam agreed, "we'll just burn Fabian." "We really shouldn't start even a small fire in the ash tray here in the bar, so let's move outside by the pool," I said to them. I know what you must be thinking, "Does the hotel bar stay open all night?" That night it did. I couldn't answer for their regular schedule but that night the bar was open as long as it took! We moved outside to a poolside table where we decided burning Fabian made the most sense. This decision was made by we three supposedly sane, professional, functional people and the one invisible dead body who was back only to celebrate his birthday. Our visitor agreed to this ritualistic ceremony of burning Fabian. By this time HE was dancing around giggling with delight over what we were planning to do for him. We had promised to rid him of this evil spirit, Fabian.

Yes, there was an ashtray on the poolside table. Yes, we had matches, and so the stage was now set for action "But, wait," HE told us. "It has been 2500 years since I have eaten," HE told us still taking on Fabian's personality and voice. That's where I learned just how old this spirit was. "Interesting," I thought. "I wonder what my friends at home would think of me now." Sam ran to the bar, gathered up all the baskets of stale bar snacks left over from the evening. Fabian, now sitting at the table for the first time with us, ate for at least 10 minutes. When he seemed satisfied and content we laid the photo from his white bag in the ash tray, making sure it was propped up a little allowing air to flow under it, so it would burn quickly. Bob suddenly said, "First we must have a flower," and jumped up almost knocking over his chair while reaching into the nearby bushes looking some sort of a flower. Fabian stood up and said, "You want a flower? Here is a flower!" Right before our tired but astonished eyes he manifested or materialized a beautiful pink flower from the palm of his right hand. WE ALL SAW IT HAPPEN! His palm was extended out before us, empty and remaining totally open, and a pink flower took shape in his open palm! By that time we were all three reduced to tears. We decided to get on with the death of Fabian by burning and I decided that I had seen enough. I HAD SEEN ENOUGH! I couldn't stand anymore of this. As soon as Fabian was burned that was the end of this story for me.

The photo was totally incinerated, nothing left but hot ashes, and I was going to my room - NOW!

I bolted back inside, turned right before reaching the bar and headed for my room, where I awakened my roommate. It was a wonder she didn't kill me for it was now nearly 4:00 am. I told her everything which totally destroyed what could have been left of her chances for a full night's sleep. As our conversation was finished we both heard heavy footsteps running like hell toward our room. I looked out my door and saw the brave other two, Bob and Sam, totally ashen faced and looking like they needed emergency medical attention. They were able to tell me that our little party broke up a few minutes after I left for my room. Fabian, still embodied in our visitor, dumped the ashes from his photo in the ashtray into his palm and went back into the hotel. They said that HE turned to walk toward the front door as if he were leaving and not more than two feet away from the eyes of Bob and Sam, OPENED HIS PALM AND PRODUCED THE PHOTO AS WE HAD FIRST SEEN IT. IT WAS BACK IN PERFECT CONDITION. HE smiled as he left and said - I AM DEAD AND IT IS MY BIRTHDAY.

This and other stories from Joyce's notebook are now being produced in audio form and soon will be published in book form.

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NOTICE: Articles and Reports on the Beyond Boundaries Archive web site were first published on the Internet or in the Newsletter from July 1996 through June 2000. Since these are reprints of the original stories, names, addresses, email addresses and web links may be out of date or may have been changed. The opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Beyond Boundaries, Inc., its advertisers, or associates.