YES HELLO, Reader!!!

Cheery, bloomin', dreamy Venus day to you, my friend! I dearly LOVE this weekly ritual. Thank you for sharing your precious TIME with me. I worship in the Cathedral ov ARTE everyday, but Friday is the day I invite the diverse masses to my divergent Mass. Turns out, congregating and sharing with others is essential to the artist's heart. Thank you for filling my heart with your presence, your feedback, and your patronship. You fuel my fires. You generate my joy.

This past week I thought heavily on the topic ov DREAMS. Their mystery. Their messages. Their magic. Their power. Ever since I stopped smoking weed (yes, I was a secret stoner for quite a stint,) my DREAMS came back with a colorful vengeance. I've known that cannabis steals DREAMS for many many y-eras, yet I am always delightfully surprised at how powerfully they return once I decide to cease inhaling cocoon-inducing smoke. As much as I adore the altered states, like ALL drugs, I do not know how to moderate and they end up taking over my LIFE. For those ov you who know how to have a healthy relationship with marijuana, I salute you. For me, I am back on my 100% sobriety lifestyle and, as always, relishing the clarity, energy, and open heart that a drug and alcohol-free LIFE affords me. I thank the Pain Teacher every day for putting me on this path and I send LOVE to my pancreas whose deafening screams caused me to divorce alcohol forever. But wait, I am not here to talk about sobriety; I am here to talk about DREAMS.

Before I get into my musings on DREAMS, I'd like to share a large-scale analog collage I spawned this week. It is 16"x18" on a heavy, wooden, ready-to-hang, placard board and it is for sale! This one spilled outta me. The MUSE guided me as I selected books off the shelves in my Scissor Temple and opened them directly to pages with the images that begged to be incorporated. In honor ov the central image, I have titled this piece "Yggdrasil's Autopsy." For those ov you who are not familiar with Norse Mythology, Yggdrasil is the Norse equivalent ov the Axis Mundi, The World Tree. It symbolizes the eternal cycle ov LIFE, death & rebirth, serving as the sacred spine ov ALL existence.

𒄆𓁹✞𒀱✞𓁹𒄆

​LINK TO BUY YGGDRASIL'S AUTOPSY. ONE OV A KIND. WILL SHIP ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD! ​
TAX AND SHIPPING COSTS INCLUDED IN PRICE

𒄆𓁹✞𒀱✞𓁹𒄆

I believe that DREAMS are fun breadcrumb clues about our ontology. That being: The fact that we are ALL GOD. We are GOD having a DREAM, which we recognize as our waking LIFE as humans on Planet Earth, at least this TIME 'round. Being the GODHEAD (the ALL-knowing, ALL-being, EVERYTHING) is quite a boring state. Imagine knowing the punchline to every joke already. Imagine knowing how every story ends. Imagine not being able to have any self reflection or wonder or mystery because you are ALL THAT IS. GOD wanted to EXPERIENCE something so She fragmented herself (The Big Bang, as the modern Materialists call it) into a vast multitude ov various energies, frequencies, elements, particles, charges, temperatures etc. Eventually, She created incarnated beings (us) to have a DREAM (our LIVES) where She willfully stepped into individual, unique cocoons ov existence & forgot Her true totality & identity in order to have a BIG LAUGH (and a BIG CRY because this particular realm was created under the precept ov unrelenting Duality.) Our actual LIVES are merely GOD's DREAMS. Our DREAMS are DREAMS within a DREAM. Yes, very Inceptionesque, I know. The cool thing is, the dreamer can never be killed or destroyed. The light behind our eyes is eternal. When we die here we wake up to our divinity there, just like dying in a DREAM. You get it.

I believe that DREAMS are portals into our subconscious minds where the language ov myths (symbols & archetypes) and our own personal connotations to those symbols carry relevant messages to us, should we develop the skill ov DREAM recall. Your internal map is uniquely yours and only YOU have the ability to decode the relevance, should you care to dissect your DREAMS and extract their meaningful messages by getting in touch with your connotations to the symbols you see when you sleep. Perhaps you believe our DREAMS are merely our brains taking technicolor dumps at the end ov each day. Perhaps you scoff at the notion that they are portals into vivid inner realms where our soul speaks to us in symbols. To you I say- DREAM on, Aristotle. I LOVE you even if we do not see eye-to-eye.

Guess what? I have more ARTE to share! I am going to reveal the postcards I created this week. I never have a theme or topic in mind when I work on these. It is always after the collection ov 18 is completed that the name ov the series reveals itself to me. I literally asked the postcards aloud what their name is and sat quietly for the answer (I talk to "inanimate" objects every day ov my LIFE, don't you?) When I heard the internal whisper, "SLEEP PARALYSIS," I cried a lil' truth tear.

I present: SLEEP PARALYSIS: A Mixed Media Analog Collage Postcard Series by Hannah Haddix:

𒄆𓁹✞𒀱✞𓁹𒄆

​BUY POSTCARD ABOVE. ONLY ONE AVAILABLE. ​

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POSTCARD ABOVE IS SOLD.

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Does anyone else think that vagina looks just like a chicken's face?

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POSTCARD ABOVE IS SOLD.

​BUY POSTCARD ABOVE. ONLY ONE AVAILABLE. ​

​CLICK HERE TO BUY A SURPRISE SNAIL MAIL POSTCARD! NO LIMITS! BUY AS MANY AS YOU WANT!​

Want to send one to a friend or foe? Simply put their address in the mailing address spot. You can add a personalized message that I will handwrite for them. Just make a note in the "Message for Hannah Haddix" text box explaining that this is for someone else and what you want me to write. (Or leave it up to me!) Keep it brief as there is not a lot ov room for the handwritten message considering the margin for the barcode and mailing addresses.

I CAN MAIL POSTCARDS ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD!

𒄆𓁹✞𒀱✞𓁹𒄆

Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis, Reader? I suffered from sinister, sexual, sleep demon invasions regularly for y-eras. The unwanted sleep visitations always seemed to coincide with high stress periods ov my LIFE that were devoid ov any sleep regularity. Exhaustion naps were prime TIME windows for incubus molestations. In the spirit ov finding the blessings in ALL my perceived curses, I am going to share a spooky anecdote from my distant past. Turns out, my struggle with sleep paralysis was the gateway to one ov my very first encounters with other people's psychic powers. An encounter that I will surely never forget.

The y-era was 2005. I was 18 y-eras old living in a small railroad apartment on Roebling Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and I had fallen into the grips ov an ugly cocaine addiction. I had the phone number ov a drug dealer who I could text at any hour with any NYC cross streets and he would show up in his car within the hour toting baggies ov blow for sale. This was the genesis ov a little money crisis that led me to make some pretty extreme LIFE choices, but that is a story for another TIME.

During this period ov cocaine-fueled insanity I was experiencing sleep paralysis nearly every TIME I fell asleep. Each TIME the visions and the molestations were similar. I saw winged, horned, shadow figures with long tails in my room and they would perch upon my body as I lay paralyzed under their weight. I know that sounds kinda cliche, but it's true. I was sexually toyed with, haunted and humiliated. Being molested by an apparition is truly a terrifying experience, most especially because I was entirely aware ov my normal bedroom surroundings and unable to move my body in the slightest. I could not run or scream or fight or pray. I was paralyzed, a prisoner in my own body, mind awake and eyes open, at the mercy ov the shadowy demons to do as they pleased. The regularity ov this occurrence did not result in acclimation or acceptance ov it. Adversely, it only caused me to fear sleep and yearn to continue my wakeful drugged-out states, staving off sleep for as long as humanly possible.

One day there was a gentle knock on my apartment door. It startled me because no one had ever knocked before. I trepidatiously opened the door and was relieved to see a homely old woman standing there, smiling. She introduced herself as "Dale" and handed me a business card that had a graphic ov an angel with the words, "Dale: Psychic. Medium. Spiritual Healer," printed on the paper card. She briefly explained that she was visiting her daughter who lived in an apartment across the hall that had been occupied by her and her family members for decades. She said she sensed there was something scary happening to me when I slept and asked to come inside for a chat. A chill ran down my spine and I invited her in. She knew. I apologized for the messy state ov the place and I offered to make her some tea. We sat down together at a small, tiled table in my windowless living room and she began her informational download.

Not only did Dale describe the creatures ov my hauntings TO A TEE, but she told me some things about my childhood that were so specific and personal that it felt like she had reached into the recesses ov my suppressed memories and plucked them out, shining her light ov truth and understanding onto them. I wept. I absolutely wept because I had never been exposed to psychic abilities before and I was wholly freaked out. Dale explained that the Roebling Street apartment building that I was living in was erected where an industrial meat packing district used to be, and that the sinister energies ov slaughter and suffering were still present there. ((I am crying again because I just asked The Wonder Killer if Roebling Street in Williamsburg used to be a meat packing district and it confirmed Dale's story. "Yes, while not commonly referred to by that name in history books, the general Northside Williamsburg area around Roebling Street was part of an industrial, manufacturing, and meat-packing hub in the late 19th and early 20th centuries."))

Dale continued to blow my mind with her anecdotes about being hired by wealthy high-rise building owners in the Financial District to visit at night while the workers were away to do energetic clearings. She informed me ov the dark forces that feed on & propagate from human greed and money obsessions. She lifted a veil for me to peek into a reality where the world was beyond what meets the human eye. A reality rife with spiritual warfare. A reality where ghosts are real. A reality that only the initiated and gifted can see. I had been experiencing my own sleep paralysis hauntings, sure, but I did not realize these entities existed outside ov my own mind.

Then, free ov charge, Dale offered me a remedy against the shadowy sleep creatures. A remedy that immediately worked and has continued to be effective in any home where I have utilized the method. Would you like to know what the remedy is, Reader? I'll tell you. It is simple.

It simply requires that you procure 2 small, sealable, glass jars or vials that are capable ov touching each other with their glass surfaces when you place them side by side, as well as a bag ov pure epsom salt. Her instructions were to fill one glass vial with the epsom salt and fill the other glass vial with water. Any water will do: tap water, distilled, spring, it doesn't matter, as long as it is good 'ol H2O. She said to take the remaining epsom salt from the bag and make an epsom salt bath in my tub. She instructed to bathe in it and to make sure that I also submerged my head, if only for a few seconds, so that my entire body was submerged in the salty concoction. ((Have a dry towel nearby to wipe your eyes before opening them, lest you suffer the sting ov saltwater in your eyes.)) After the bath, she said to place the two glass vials with their respective contents next to my bed, but to make SURE that they were touching. She said that as long as I slept next to the abutting salt & water vials that I would be protected from the night intruders.

Lo & behold, her remedy worked like a charm. Yes, I've had sleep paralysis episodes since, but never while sleeping next to my vials. Also, the sleep paralysis visions I've endured since have never resembled the winged, horned, shadow rapists ov Roebling Street.

I am forever grateful for that knock on my door and the help I received from a psychic stranger named Dale. Not only did she help me stave off my phantom molesters, but she opened my eyes to a world ov magic where ghosts are real, psychic abilities are undeniable, and spiritual warfare is a daily occurrence. Thank you, Dale, wherever you are. You are a guardian angel and you blessed my LIFE with magic.

This was an abnormally long transmission this week. But I felt compelled to share. If you took the TIME to read this in its entirety, thank you. I LOVE hearing back from you, so please do reply. Tell me about your sleep paralysis. Tell me about your prophetic dreams. Or simply say, "Hey."

May your days be filled with LOVE & may your nights be filled with pleasant DREAMS. May you be protected on your journey & may you express yourself creatively every single day. Remember, you possess a special gift and a unique genius that only you can tap into and express in the world. May you align with your purpose and LIVE it unreservedly.

BIG LOVE

GOLD BLESS YOU

JAI KALI MA!

YOUR FRIENDLY CYBERHOOD NEIGHBOR,​​

P.S. If you are enjoying these uncensored transmissions and you know any other mutants who may delight in weekly ARTE, music and musings, please send them to hannahhaddix.com to sign up for my Alienbroadcast Transmissions! Or you could just forward them this email. Help me grow my tribe! Surely you can think ov at least one weirdo human who belongs here. PLEASE HELP THEM TUNE IN!

P.P.S. TONIGHT I will be premiering something special I've been working on far the past month at The Rabbit Box Theatre in Pike Place Market. Please come out and support this cool happening! I will also be bringing all unsold postcards from all 3 series and have them available for sale at the event! Come say hey and ask to see my magic mail in the flesh! ((As ov yesterday there were only 23 tickets remaining so if you plan on coming you MUST get a ticket online NOW. This show WILL SELL OUT!!)) LINK TO BUY TICKETS​

☻ PEACE! 丰HH丰 ☻

☻ BE BLOOMIN' ☻

ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ ♡

𓆙𓃹𓃚 𓅰 𓅬 𓅯 𓅓

---Transmission over until next Venus Day---

Thee Archives: Transmission 1, Transmisson 2 , Transmission 3, Transmission 4, Transmission 5, Transmission 6, Transmission 7, Transmission 8, Transmission 9, Transmission 10, Transmission 11, Transmission 12, Transmission 13, Transmission 14, Transmission 15, Transmission 16, Transmission 17, Transmission 18, Transmission 19, Transmission 20​