Morphing Skies

Following up on Flying Elephants

(Photo credit: Annie Spratt: https://unsplash.com/@anniespratt)

Back in November and December of last year, the skies over New Jersey became a theatre of the strange. Reports started trickling in - lights, swarms, formations. Drone-like objects, appearing over critical infrastructure and military facilities. At first, it looked like just another incursion of off-the-shelf UAVs - until the story got weirder.

Despite multiple sightings, despite radar data and confirmed visual tracking, officials offered little in the way of explanation. When the Pentagon finally addressed the matter, its answer was contradictory: these objects were, in its words, ‘non-threatening,’ but they also ‘didn’t know who was behind them.’ How do you square that circle? How can something be non-threatening if you don’t even know what it is or who sent it?

That contradiction was at the heart of my previous Substack piece, Flying Elephants. In it, I proposed that the real reason behind the military’s reticence - the real reason it would rather look foolish than admit the truth - was because the truth was unpalatable. Not because it involved some new foreign adversary. But because it potentially involved something no agency, military or otherwise, was equipped to explain.

When the incoming Trump administration adopted a new line - that the drones were part of a Federal Aviation Administration test - that only added to the confusion. If true, it would mean the FAA was running tests the military hadn’t been informed of. Which, in the wake of 2023’s Chinese balloon scandal, beggared belief.

It felt like a cover story designed to smooth over panic.

And here’s where things get really interesting. Toward the end of Flying Elephants, I referenced Chapter 10 of The Light Beyond the Mountains. In it, I described a wave of sightings 30 years ago in the Wallkill River Valley, a region encompassing part of New Jersey, where objects masqueraded as commercial aircraft - except, under scrutiny, their light configurations were off. Navigation patterns didn’t match known aviation standards. There was a sense of mimicry, but mimicry that was … imperfect.

At the time, I was sceptical. Shape-shifting UFOs? It felt too far out. But by Chapter 20 of TLBTM, that scepticism had eroded. Not because I’d become less rigorous, but because the data kept pointing me back to the same uncomfortable place: the simplest explanation for what was happening in New Jersey - and what had happened in drone waves five years ago over Palo Verde, Colorado, Guam, and even, more recently, Langley AFB - was the unthinkable one.

Not all of the drones were man-made.

Some were exhibiting what I called deception traits: the ability to mimic, to adapt, to camouflage within the expectations of the observer. Shapeshifting, in other words - not in a fairy-tale sense, but in a perceptual, phenomenological one. These were icons on the interface of perception, not fixed objects in 3D space.

That might sound esoteric - unless you’ve been following the work of people like cognitive scientist Donald Hoffman. Professor Hoffman’s interface theory suggests that what we see isn’t ‘reality’ as it is, but a perceptual dashboard shaped by evolution. Space-time is not fundamental, he says. It’s a projection. An interface. So, what happens when something interacts with that interface - something conscious, intelligent, and, dare I say it, non-human?

You seem to get phenomena that appear to mutate on contact. Things that mirror expectation. Things that present as drones because that’s what we’re culturally prepared to see. But that’s not what they are.

Which brings me to the remote viewing session conducted by Daz Smith and his Hellfire Group - an elite team of viewers trained in the same protocol lineage that once formed part of the US military’s psychic spying program. They were blind to the target coordinates - unaware of the New Jersey flap - but what they perceived was astonishing.

Daz and his colleagues described an object that did not fly in but appeared. It emerged from a portal - something like a tear in the fabric of spacetime. There was a flash of light, an energetic surge, and then: presence. The object itself, as portrayed, was alive. Not in a metaphorical sense, but literally. It was described as an ‘organic form of technology’ - self-aware, data-gathering, and communicative.

Some viewers sensed it was part of a hive or cluster - linked to a distant, perhaps nonlocal origin. A ‘city’ was referenced by one - a dense, intelligent civilization of light and frequency. The object was not just surveying; it was sending information back, functioning more like a node than a craft.

One of the most striking things to emerge from Daz’s session - related to me in a follow-up conversation - was the nature of the ‘light’ he saw accompanying the object’s emergence. Daz described it as in motion, glowing, white at the core, yellow and blue at the edges, with a warm centre filled with dust-like particles. He added that it contained waves and frequencies beyond the visible spectrum.

When I asked him to name what he was describing, he paused - and then said it plainly: plasma.

Plasma, as we now know, makes up 99 per cent of the visible universe. ‘Dusty plasma’ – the type that seem to have been observed in Daz’s RV session – are highly reactive, conductive mediums. They carry frequency, pattern, and information. And they’ve long been suspected - by physicists at the very edge of the known - for their potential to act as transduction points between fields. Between realms, even.

So, what do we make of this?

Taken together - the sightings, the mimicry, the shapeshifting, and now the remote viewing data - one interpretation begins to emerge: the objects that appeared over New Jersey were not just technological intrusions. They were plasma-based expressions of ‘something other’ – a non-human intelligence, capable of interacting with our perceptual interface; that adapted to our expectations, matching our gaze.

And in doing so, they presented the ultimate camouflage. Not stealth by material means, but by ‘perceptual engagement.’ You saw what you expected to see – an aircraft or a drone. Which means the encounter wasn’t just about the thing in the sky. It was about you, the observer. Your thoughts. Your assumptions. Your emotional state.

In Hoffman’s language, these objects hacked the interface. In plasma physics, they exploited the medium. Only, as happened in the Wallkill River Valley, there was something a little bit ‘off’ about them. Not quite right. A result of a translation error, perhaps. Or maybe because they weren’t ‘from here,’ but somewhere quite else.

Which perhaps explains why many locals described having felt ‘spooked’ by them.

All of which leaves us with a haunting possibility: that some intelligence out there doesn’t need to break into our world with force. It simply appears - as what we’re ready to see.

Flying elephants, indeed.

And maybe, just maybe, the sky isn’t the only thing that’s morphing. Maybe our collective consciousness is too.