Grey Beings, Psilocybin Mushrooms, and the Dimensional Veil
From the shadows of our minds to the edges of the sky, human beings have always wondered about the others—those entities not quite of our world. In recent decades, the overlap between psychedelic visions, UFO encounters, and esoteric spiritual insights has grown impossible to ignore. Among the most intriguing patterns is the consistent appearance of “grey” alien beings across both psilocybin-induced experiences and classic UFO contact narratives. But what if these aren’t separate phenomena? What if they’re simply different glimpses into the same dimensional breach?
Under high doses of psilocybin mushrooms, users frequently report contact with humanoid entities—many describing them as eerily similar to the iconic greys: large heads, massive black eyes, emotionless faces. The mushroom seems to be a doorway, not just into one’s subconscious, but into an occupied reality teeming with watchers, examiners, and beings who defy explanation. These beings appear in spaces that feel sterile, futuristic, or alien—strikingly coherent and consistent across multiple users and sessions. Notably, their skin is often described as smooth, reflective, and oddly featureless—qualities frequently noted in abduction accounts and explored further in detailed classifications of non-human entities, such as Ebens, Archquloids, Quadaloids, Heplaloids, and Trantaloids. These classifications suggest a wide diversity in form and skin texture, with some beings exhibiting translucent or gel-like skin and others appearing almost metallic or rubbery. These aren’t cartoonish visuals; they carry an unmistakable gravity—a presence that feels undeniably ‘other.’
What’s more uncanny is how this matches the experience of people who have never touched a psychedelic, yet claim to have witnessed similar greys during sleep paralysis, UFO sightings, or strange moments of energetic vulnerability. Reports of seeing dark figures or “demons in the corner of the eyes” share visual characteristics and emotional weight with these mushroom-induced visitations. The idea that something is watching, lurking just outside the bounds of our perception, isn’t confined to one type of altered state. It echoes across sleep, ritual, trauma, and tryptamine.
These altered states—though distinct in cause—appear to open similar perceptual doorways. Sleep paralysis might show you shadow people. Rituals might unveil spirit guides. Trauma can fracture the mind into seeing what’s hidden. And tryptamine-based psychedelics like psilocybin lift the veil with striking consistency. Despite their differences, they all seem to expose a shared landscape populated by entities, symbols, and energies that exist just beyond ordinary perception. The overlap across such diverse entry points suggests the phenomenon isn’t strictly psychological or cultural—it might be embedded in the architecture of consciousness itself.
Take, for example, a user of mushrooms found himself face-to-face with a towering grey presence. There was no mistaking the intensity—”its grey flesh spanning my entire peripheral range of thought.” Others speak of entering the same alien realm trip after trip: floating heads, insectoid architects, entities inspecting them as if studying a lower lifeform. These experiences closely mirror the sensations described in out-of-body experiences (OBEs), which are reported both with and without the use of psychedelics. In such states, individuals often describe floating above their bodies, navigating unfamiliar planes, and occasionally encountering non-human intelligences. Often, there’s no spoken word—only telepathic impressions, as though meaning itself were being beamed directly into their psyche.
These reports blur even further when you consider the esoteric interpretations that categorize some of these beings not as extraterrestrials, but as interdimensional. In these altered states, it’s not just visual phenomena that shift—entire layers of perception seem to rearrange, suggesting interaction with non-physical realms. Individuals often describe entering environments not simply alien in appearance, but immaterial in essence—places where thought, emotion, and entity presence blend seamlessly into a felt reality. The mushroom, in this light, may serve not only as a tool for vision but as an amplifier of spiritual perception. It rips the veil clean. Those who consciously enter these altered states—often referred to as psychonauts—have long treated psilocybin as a sacred navigational instrument for exploring dimensions beyond the physical. Their methods echo ancient traditions of shamanism, where altered states were deliberately induced to access hidden realms, commune with spirits, and retrieve knowledge for the benefit of the community. These accounts often echo one another: encounters with non-human entities, immersion in strange worlds, and revelations that feel cosmic in scale yet deeply personal in impact. This aligns with what some researchers have called the ‘Spirit Molecule’ effect—a reference to how substances like DMT (chemically similar to psilocybin) can facilitate what appear to be hyper-real interactions with intelligent beings and fully formed environments. Rather than hallucinations, these experiences are often described as revelations—encounters with truths that seem embedded in the very structure of reality. Some thinkers have suggested that such encounters may reflect not delusions, but remembered interactions—fragmented remnants of a much older connection between humanity and advanced intelligences, possibly dating back to pre-cataclysmic civilizations. This notion—that consciousness-expanding substances unlock lost memories and ancestral contact—adds a deeper historical resonance to what many modern psychonauts report.
One can’t help but ask: Are these beings we see on mushrooms truly aliens? Or are they what older cultures might have called spirits, djinn, or demons? Modern minds dress them in spacesuits. Ancient ones gave them wings and horns. But the sense of being watched, of being evaluated or even manipulated, remains consistent. And that may be the real truth peeking through—entities beyond our visible world that bleed into ours when the boundaries of consciousness are thinned.
That boundary-blurring is central to both UFOlogy and psychedelic research. The observations of psychiatrist John E. Mack lend further credibility to the notion that these experiences are not merely subjective hallucinations but may point toward a broader, undiscovered reality. He proposed that the alien abduction phenomenon shared qualities with visionary and spiritual experiences. Similarly, Terence McKenna often spoke of psychedelics as ‘invisible landscapes’—gateways to contact with non-human intelligence that civilization has largely ignored. Both men emphasized that these encounters were deeply real to those who experienced them, regardless of cultural framing. Their perspectives mirror themes in many reports, where shadowy beings or greys appear just outside our field of vision, predators in camouflage—appearing only in glances, always at the edge of sight.
Perhaps the most chilling takeaway isn’t that these entities exist—but that they might exist in us, around us, always. The mushroom merely tunes the dial. What we see—be it grey, reptilian, angelic, or insectoid—might depend less on the chemical and more on the soul.
In the end, psilocybin experiences and UFO contact narratives may be two sides of the same multidimensional coin. One accessed by craft. The other by consciousness. Consider, for example, the Delphos Ring Incident of 1971. On a quiet Kansas farm, young Ronnie Johnson reported seeing a brilliantly lit object, described as mushroom-shaped, hovering just above the ground. When it vanished, it left behind a glowing, crystalline ring in the soil where nothing would grow for years. The resemblance to a mushroom wasn’t just visual—it echoed something symbolic, as if the object itself hinted at consciousness-altering potential or interdimensional mechanics. And somewhere, in that fold between realities, the watchers wait.
All of this begs the question—are we only now brushing against these phenomena because our tools are finally catching up? Before humanity understood electricity, it was always there—waiting in the background of existence, unseen. The same was true for atoms, and again for the quantum world. Only when the right instruments emerged did those realms become undeniable. The cosmos itself was invisible until our telescopes advanced enough to reveal the galaxies beyond our sky.
This same principle applies to the technological mystery behind the phenomena. Concepts like psionics, lenticular aerodyne platforms, or storm-based plasmoid generation have been hinted at in relation to non-human intelligences and their machinery. Surveillance systems operating on gremlin-like principles or pyramidal constructs acting like Tesla coils may sound like science fiction—but only until the proper physics, sensors, or dimensional tools are developed to measure them. Like the mushroom, modern technology could eventually serve as a translator between what is hidden and what is provable. Until then, what we call ‘paranormal’ might simply be ‘unmeasured.’
