I might send a letter to the editor
explaining the day and thanking the people of Tucson
for their kindness towards me when I really needed it.
...not one negative card or letter.
- Gary Hughes

As I've said in the introduction that led you to this page, I've spent a long time warring with myself whether and how to introduce the correspondence I had with Gary Hughes regarding the plane crash in 1967. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable in any way. I didn't want it to be all about me. But this is a teaching site on the topic of witchcraft and psychic ability and - well - it's impossible not to want to convey the power of the experience as a student of psychic experience.

So, I've decided to share it as a teaching tool.

Gary Hughes introduced himself to me in February of 2007 saying that he'd happened across my website and the mention of the crash in Tucson in 1967. He was the pilot of that crash that had haunted him for almost three decades. He shared with me, quite matter of factly, some basic facts about the crash and his life afterwards, but I will get to the crash in a bit.

The realization that a vision I had at the age of 17 was writing to me was a bit unhinging, surreal. I'm not going to tell the story in chronological order. I first want to introduce what kind of a man Gary Hughes is today. I also want to address the elephant in the room - the odd circumstance under which we were meeting. We couldn't pretend that it wasn't weird that some lady was claiming to have had a psychic experience about something so personal and tragic. So, I first want to share my reaction to his contacting me in that it was embarrassment. And I explained to him why that was...

Dear Mr. Hughs

...Telepathy/clairvoyance is a form of voyeurism. And many times I have been embarrassed to intrude on the lives of others at such desperate moments. I have fought all my life to master and make peace with my gifts. I have fought even longer about whether to talk about them. I don't know if you think my gift is possible, [delusional] or a hoax. I don't care. I'm not a show pony and I don't share my experiences for self-aggrandizement, but only to tell others who have had experiences like mine that they are not crazy. Cause, gods, it sure can make you feel crazy.

However, you are a real person, not a vision, not a memory. The accident happened to real people, not visions, not memories. *I* simply had a bad dream. No matter how real it feels to me - it didn't happen to me. And Sir, if my talking about MY experience of that day...in any way intrudes on you or diminishes YOUR experience of that day, I will remove it immediately. After all you have done to make peace with that day...I would not want to be a part of its undoing. If I have misrepresented you in any way. Any way. I apologize.

To lend credibility to my being who and what I say I am, I explained craft names to him and how we use them to protect ourselves from hurtful critics. I wanted him to know that I was the real deal, a real person and that should he want to hunt me down, I told him my real name.

Dear Leigh

I did not intend for you to think I was expressing anger or wanting to edit anything. I only want the best for you...

I am one of those people that is not a believer, but I keep having my disbelief tested. Two days ago I was a bit early for work so I went into a McDonald's to have a cup of coffee and read a few more pages in a book. Another fellow was also reading a book two tables away. I joked as I got up to leave that we got more mileage out of a cup of coffee than any other patrons. He laughed and then says "I think I know you from somewhere." I told him I did not think so. He asked if I had been in Vietnam and I answered that I had been at DaNang. He had been in the Highlands at Pleiku. That was a miss.

He then said "Where were you before that?" I told him I had been stationed in Maine. He said that he had gotten to Dow AFB just before I left. We could well have met. At any rate what are the odds of that happening.

Another time in California I was at a Costco looking at a generator. A fellow walks up and says "Why are you looking at a generator?' I told him I lived in the woods on the side of Mt. Shasta and we held the record for the most snow from a single storm. (14 feet) He then asked me what I was doing in Santa Rosa, CA. I told him I was caring for my [sick] sister and she lived in Petaluma, CA and that I was born and raised in Petaluma. He asked where I was born and I said "In Petaluma." He said "No, I mean where in Petaluma?" I told him I was born at home. He asked me where and I told him "On Bassett Street." He said "Where on Bassett Street?" I told him "311 Bassett Street." He replied "I own that house!"

I don't seem to have the lightning, just the lightning rod.

Dear Gary~

I am...going to steal your phrasing for a non-believer who doesn't "seem to have the lightning, just the lightning rod." It will undoubtedly show up in my writing. So if you have a copyright issue with it...speak now. :) It is perfect to explain how non-believers can have their non-belief challenged. I love skeptics. Two of my best friends are atheists. And my husband is the doubter of all doubters.

Mother would have explained to you that everyone is either a sender or a receiver. Some are both. But most seem to be stronger at one or the other. Every one has latent talents if culture and prejudice hasn't stomped the crap out of them. You sound like a smart guy. I know for a fact that the government doesn't give those jets to just anyone. I'm sure this must seem weird to you to find someone who feels like she was in your cockpit on that horrible day. I just hope that you can glean from my words that I am a reasonably intelligent woman, moderately well educated, unusually well balanced and not on medication.

In some ways it was equally weird to me. I had no way to anticipate his reaction to my claims. There are some pretty sad people in the world that feel if they can't be notable that they can at least claim being near to the notable. That's not me. But I was having a hard time believing that he was just fine with who I said I was.

It isn't every day that the subject of one of your nightmares drops you a line. And is gentle and kind and not ready to tie you to a stake for doing the devil's work. I am so very grateful for that.

[You have no idea whether or not I am] some shut-in cyber witch with nothing better to do but weave worlds within my head to make myself feel important. You have my permission to stay a non-believer. I was raised to be a skeptic, so that is my default position. But it does seems that you are a sensitive of some kind...

Dear Leigh

...Another time I was at a Costco in Redding, CA. A man was at a vendors table and I looked at his goods. He gave me a card and it had a Tucson, AZ address. I commented that there was reason I might not be popular in Tucson and told him of the crash. He knew two of the four women killed. Is that strange or is that something to do with Costco?

I don't seem to have any powers but I run into strange and wonderful people! My ex-wife went through Silva Mind Control and did some amazing things. A lady I dated for 12 years in California was into Psychic Fairs.

I went on a trip with my sister to Louisiana to visit my family. On the way back to California I asked if we could go by Davis Monthan and talk to the Base Historian and get the info on the crash site. That was back around 1995 and they would not let me on the base or call the base historian. I left greatly saddened. There was a McDonald's across the street and I said let me go in there and see if there is anyone old enough to have been in Tucson back in 1967. She agreed. I went inside and everyone seemed way too young. I then spotted a older man and approached him. Ends up he was a Tucson native and I asked him if he remembered back in December of 1967 when an F-4 went into a shopping center at Christmas time. He told me that he had looked up and saw the plane and knew it was in trouble. He told me how to get to the crash site. I, like a damned fool, did not get his name and phone number! That was how I found out where the crash had occurred. More strange stuff! I sometimes think Tubular Bells should be playing in the background.

Dear Gary~

(Soooo...Costco builds each store on a geographical vortex? LOL!) Your stories are not surprising to me. (They are rather commonplace in my world, I've got hundreds of them. Like the time I met my future gym teacher jerking soda at Mt. Rushmore during the previous summer's vacation or how my "foster" sister Susan, had met my father 10 years before I met her or how my friend Charles...had dated Susan's next door neighbor in high school or how my co-worker, Robyn and her husband Dennis came to my wedding and were surprised to find Charles there, who taught Dennis karate 10 years earlier. I could go on and on.) So, I can understand the "lightning rod" quality that you think you might possess. I have that too. For me, your stories explain a bit why my subconscious picked you out of the ether. You sure seem to draw psychic women to you.

We talked about the crash in pieces throughout our correspondence and I thought I'd condense it here with what I remembered and what he said actually happened.

I remember the day so vividly waking up with the dream and having to get ready to go to school. (I was a junior in High School.) I remember wanting to do something to stop it. Being told by my mother that no one would listen to a 17 year old girl. And it was probably just a fear dream, anyway. In my dream there was a mechanical failure but I don't remember ever hearing the final judgment on what caused the accident.

For a brief moment...while I slept, my mind leapt into the future and saw you fighting with the throttle. Why didn't I write that in my records? It was just seconds long. What came with the vision was the knowledge that you were going down. Or going to go down. Something about your flight suit and radioing that you were going to eject. [And then delaying that ejection.] I was in your stomach. I was in your mind trying to save the plane. [Trying to drop the plane in a safe area] I wasn't there when it crashed or when you ejected. But waking, [I knew you landed hard.] I knew it was going to go into a grocery store. I don't know why I remember that you died and that no one on the ground was hurt. How did my memory flip that around? Why would I remember you dying and the others living? I don't know why I got that bit about the flight suit. Can you remember anything about that? Do you know why your parachute didn't fully deploy? Do you remember anything getting caught one anything?

I buried these visions deeply away and never intended to exhume them. I never intended to write about them. I actively worked to forget them. They didn't serve me. They didn't help anyone. There was no earthly use for me getting them and all I wanted was for them to stop. When mother died and I thought that I should keep better records for my family. I'm just trying to piece things together. I was either wrong about it or have it mixed up with another crash.

When I shared with my husband these correspondences and about the fighting with the throttle, he doubted me on how obvious that image. Every fighter plane crash, the pilot fights with the throttle. I explained that in my vision the pilot wasn't fight with the plane, but was fighting with the actual throttle. This element of my vision...the most passionate and dramatic moment of the dream, he dismissed as pedestrian. I knew that it wasn't. But I hadn't realized how much this knowledge was correct. My limited knowledge of a fighter cockpit limits my words because I didn't know what to call things. I felt clumsy and ignorant. However, talking with my family about the exchange I came to some conclusions - at least for my participation in the event.

Dear Leigh

That was my first day in the F-4 and the crash haunted me for almost 3 decades. I was a student at the USAF Fighter Weapons School at Nellis AFB. I was at DM for simulator training. Of course I knew nothing of the plane and was not responsible, but I felt responsible. I returned to the site in 1995 and cried and made peace with the departed. You don't have to be guilty to feel guilt!

The plane did not come from Texas, it was out of Nellis. I however I married a Dallas girl while I was stationed at James Connally AFB in Waco. Both my children were born in Waco, TX. After Vietnam I graduated from the University of Texas at Arlington. When I got out of the service after Vietnam I told them I considered myself a Texan and returned to Texas. Guess that means what you were wrong about was half right.

The cause of the crash was part pilot error and part a design problem that let the IP get the throttles caught behind the Idle Stop. That was corrected and it solved a problem that had occurred more than once.

My chute did not fully open and I hit the ground very hard. 3 crushed bones in my back. Returned to flight too soon. I flew 210 combat missions in Vietnam (108 missions North).

I just got my medical records from the crash. When I told them, the Medical People, that I hurt they told me everyone hurts when they have orders for Vietnam. Found out when I got the records that not only was I purple from broken blood vessels, but I had three compression fractures of my spine. They never told me and I was flying again before I had time to heal.

I have donated over 25 gallons of blood since and am a caregiver.

Dear Gary~

As an Air Force brat, born on Nellis, I salute you. I honor your sacrifice in Viet Nam. I honor your dedication to making peace with the lives lost, even though it wasn't your fault. I honor the blood that you have given to save so many. I honor your care giving.

I'll take that half-right Texas connection, because it still makes sense to me that I could get that...out of your future. The whole vision was in the future. One vision can reveal the truth of its impressions over days, weeks or even years. That is why Mother was such a nag about keeping records. [I was remiss in not keeping accurate records of my experiences, but I was pretty much trying to kill them.] She didn't want belief, she wanted proof. But honestly, if I had said a Wyoming connection or Connecticut connection or an Ohio connection - could we manufacture some connection that is as strong as you considering yourself a Texan? If you can - please do. I have spent half of my life trying to disprove my gifts. Having failed that, I had no other choice but to accept them. So I applaud you trying to debunk me.

That [I would be tied to] a jet jockey is a no-brainer tie to me. I was raised in a home where I had to step over sleeping cadets to get to the bathroom in the morning. We were always adopting stray pilots. That you were out of Nellis makes it a strong connector for me. You took off from my home town [and the base that I was born on] to land in the town where I was sleeping.

They lied to you about your injuries? From what I understand no ejection is fun and a pilot will do just about anything to stay in the plane. They just sent you Viet Nam with a broken back? Some days my government makes me tremble. And although the war sucked, I knew so many guys who went. That you survived 108 combat missions over the north. Damn. You've lived several lifetimes, just in this one. You are amazing to have survived so much and be as kind and sane as you are.

...I must thank you for writing to me. You have helped me. I'm not sure how just reading your words chased some of the...haunting away. Sometimes the dreamer has trouble distinguishing the dream from the real. Especially of a 40 year old [supressed] memory. Your words will stay with me the rest of my life.

Tell me how to precede. I was a journalist. I know the rules or accreditation. I try to employ them on my website when I am talking about my experiences set in a world context. But with your contacting me...that changes everything. Should I remove the reference entirely, rewrite the reference to include the information you have just given me, add your words exactly...? I will do whatever you desire. If you dismiss me as a fraud and want it gone. It is gone. If you let me rewrite it, you get editing rights.

My deepest blessings on you and yours.

Dear Leigh

Thank you for your good thoughts for me and mine. I appreciate them.

...Don't worry about what you say. Of course if I were to be quoted, I would like it to be accurate.

Before I came to Louisiana I lived in Mount Shasta, CA. Have you ever been there? Many religions think of the Mountain as being a truly holy spot. When I go up on the Mountain I feel very small yet part of something truly wonderful. I remember surveying for a Ski Bowl on the Mountain. I had a transit with me and I set it up to look at Mount Lassen in the near distance. I looked through the leveled transit and did not see Lassen. That was strange because I was below the peak of Mount Lassen. I then realized that I was looking over the top of Lassen because of curvature of the Earth. I was smart enough to know I lived on a ball yet still surprised to see evidence of the curvature. Yes, we really do live on a gigantic ball! If you have not been there you should try to make the trip. It will strengthen your spiritual side! Later I flew high enough that I could see the curvature with my naked eye. Also very moving.

Dear Gary~

I have never been on Mt. Shasta but I've driven past it several times. Most recently going to Portland for an art exhibit by my husband, Danny. Mountain climbing is something that I have no gene for. It's just something left out in me because it makes no sense to me to climb a mountain, unless there is an archeological dig at the top. Climbing just to climb is a whole lotta work for a view. Flying gives one higher heights and there a mountains with beautiful drives! Getting to the ski lodge on Mt. Charleston there is an overveiw that shows the northern valley like a topographical map. A breathtaking view without the aid of an airplane.

It is remarkable to have the experience of being acutely aware that we are flying in space on a ball. I didn't get it climbing a mountain, I felt it watching a full lunar eclipse. My foster sister's family owned a golf course. So at dusk, we had a private park to play in. I was in my mid-twenties and I had only seen partial eclipses. Living in Vegas, we can get a lot of dust. We all went out on the knoll of the number one fairway for a perfect unobstructed view, brought blankets, drinks, snacks and my son set up his telescope. Everyone took turns looking through the telescope. And it was all great fun. We watched the shadow tickling over all the craters as it grew across the moon and finally the little ones got bored and cold and everyone went inside. I sat alone on that knoll wrapped in a blanket, watching a deep blood-red, full moon hang in the sky. The color gave the moon a clean dimensionality and it looked like a red ball hanging on a string in someone's middle school science project. Sitting on my little knoll...the curvature of that little hill, looking at that blood moon...I didn't feel like I was sitting on the top of the world, I felt suspended above the world, fully aware of the vastness of the universe and all the globes suspended within. It was amazing.

To this day Hubble pictures are some of my favorite wallpapers for my computer. I can look at them and recapture that feeling of floating in space. I can meditate on them and see them in three dimensions. I go exploring through a nebula when my stress level get too high. But, no other eclipse has matched the drama of that one or given such a clear message to me. How tiny we are in the scope of thing.

Leigh~

Those were the last words I wrote to him and in retrospect, I think they were fitting. Here we were, two people trying to answer questions on how and why a thing happens. How to live with the consequences of extraordinary events visited upon you through no fault of your own.

Talking with my family about the exchange I came to some conclusions - at least for my participation in the event. Some things became clearer to me. Why his parachute didn't fully open. I was right that he ejected late but not because he was stuck on anything, because he was staying with the plane as long as possible to crash it in a safe zone. He did, in fact, risk his life, trying to save the people on the ground.

I understood why I had the Texas connection. My true dreams tend to be telepathic, viewing an event in real time through the eyes of someone living the event. I can only know as much as the sender, to whom I am bound, knows. I have no godsight. I don't know what is going to happen. I only know what is happening. But this event was clairvoyant. The viewpoint was omniscient. I did not see through Gary's eyes. I was looking over his shoulder. I was in the future, so if I gleaned things past that most futuristic dramatic moment, i might have moved beyond that moment to his becoming a Texan. A strong future emotion tied to the love of his wife and children - a future in jeapardy should he die in the crash. I understand how I could have picked that up. And I lived in Texas for a year.

The most dramatic flaw in my memory is that which I now presume to understand. I never asked and he never volunteered about why I incorrectly remembered him dying and the four women living. Remember, even if it is clairvoyant, the vision is only accessible to me because of my tie to a human being, experiencing it. I was tied in this event to Gary. Not the plane, not the town. So, it was too personal a question for me to ask and perhaps to personal an answer for him to offer unasked. I'm guessing...that with my "future" connection to him, it's likely that the ible desire for him for many days after the accident was one that wished the outcome had been as I remembered it.

Mt. Shasta

© 2010 Ardriana Cahill

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