will work. And The Naughty Yard is now out in e-book reprint from The Obelisk Library, which has re-issued a number of my old books, with an Afterword from me. [SDk: See the Additional info footer, below, to find The Naughty Yard online.]
I had thought my first indie film’s release, a movie called The Watermelon, would be one of those landmark moments in my life… but no. I mean it was great to have a film to my name, something not everyone can achieve in or out of Hollywood, given the alignment of the universe for any film to make it to completion (even the bad ones). I don’t know what happened; maybe because I wrote the film for someone, for us both to realise a dream… but she was not there for it all. It seemed like an empty victory, perhaps why I have not been pursuing film and TV as much as I used to.
SDk: Despite all you’ve experienced as a creative person, perhaps your nonfiction piece for SDk03, “Missing the paranormal in my life”, recounts the strangest and most memorable experiences of all (you write in this piece that you “knew something profound was going on”, which comes across as an understatement). Is this the case, or are these experiences in a different league altogether from some profound career experiences?
MH: Somehow they fit in. I see all events in my life, and in whatever genre I am writing in, as one Big Picture in the One Big Novel or Movie of The Life of
Michael Hemmingson, whoever he really is.
SDk: Have you ever previously put these paranormal experiences in the public domain in such a forthright autobiographical form?
MH: Not yet but I will. And I am not sure if I will do the book under my name; one need only look at Whitley Strieber, who was a best-selling horror and science-fiction author before he published his memoir, Communion, about his alien abduction and contact experiences. While Communion was a bestseller, the later backlash was that his fans stopped buying his horror novels and he went bankrupt, had to sell his cabin in the New York mountains where most of his paranormal experiences occurred. While he is back to selling books profitably and has his online radio program, it was a long climb back for him, and he is still ostracised by many.
SDk: Why, then, did you want to recount these experiences for SDk03?
MH: Because I feel it is time; since last November, when I was in hospital and nearly died, I started thinking a lot about my past experience with high weirdness… when I lay near death in Tijuana at the end of October, having gotten into a pretty huge fight with the mother of my daughter, I was visited – or at least I seemed to be – by a shaman-type old man who I last met in Sedona, Arizona, in October 1997: exactly the same date, too, October 28.
He knocked on the door where I was. I could not get up I was in such pain. He opened the door and walked in. He said I was near death and needed to talk to me. We had an hour-long conversation, picking up where we had left off in 1997, as if no time had passed – for him, it was not like fourteen years had gone by. I cannot, right now, say what we discussed in 1997 and then again in 2011. That conversation is for a book, a book I know he wants me to write, because before he left he said, “You will not die, don’t worry, and when you get well, there are some things you must do.”
One of those things is my own radio program that I have started. My radio show is called “The Art of Dreaming” and is on Revolution Radio at freedomslips.com, airs Wednesday nights 8–10 PM Eastern Time in the United States. We have quite a strong listener base, not just the USA but the UK, Australia, China, Canada, New Zealand; we’re all over the world. How did I just “get” a radio show, with people I do not know or have no prior connections with? I am still trying to figure that out. A series of synchronicities led to it, plus desire: I know I had to have a radio show; I needed it, so there it is. I have interviewed people working in Hollywood, authors, alleged super soldiers in MK-Ultra programs, alien contactees, and so on. [SDk: See the Additional info footer for access to select editions of The Art of Dreaming.]
SDk: You refer (twice) to “typical aliens”. What is a “typical” alien, and why do you think the ones you’ve encountered – you describe three different types – are typical?
I had thought my first indie film’s release, a movie called The Watermelon, would be one of those landmark moments in my life… but no.
MH: By typical I mean the pop-culture image we see in various media: the three- or four-foot tall “gray” with a thin body and big head and large black eyes. I, and many others, strongly feel the inundation of this image has been on purpose so when these guys do make their existence known to the world, it will not be a shock to the masses. Ten or twenty or thirty years ago, there would have been mass hysteria; but anyone born in the last thirty years, especially kids, has seen this alien image so much that most likely they will shrug and say, “What took so long?” Of the other common types, there are the taller gray ones that I write about in that essay, often involved in the human–gray hybrid agenda; there are the Nordic-looking tall blondes from the Pleiades that are quite common and that I have met a few times – they are human beings but more advanced spiritually and technologically; and then there are the reptilian-types, which tend to be negative and not concerned with humankind, and I am glad to say I