Remembering Dr. Patrick Flanagan – Journey Back from the End of the World
Filming, Fate, and the Woman a Blue-Skinned ET Traveler Told Me to Marry
After filming Pat at Chichén Itzá on a video camera I’d bought last-minute at the Cancun airport—because the one I’d used in Antarctica, a gift from my former roommate Bradley Quick, had died just as I docked in Ushuaia—as I broke down the shoot I told Pat the horror story of how hard it had been to keep our date for the once-in-5,000-year end of the Mayan calendar.
The night before my departure from Ushuaia, Argentina—basically the end of the world—the only card I had with a balance, my PayPal card, got swallowed by an ATM. Just like that, gone. What saved me? A sharp memory and something… stranger.
Weeks earlier, aboard the research ship heading back from Antarctica, I’d entered a deep meditative state and connected—again—with the blue-skinned being who had first appeared to me in Italy back in 2010. Ohom.
I asked, “Of the women I’ve been meeting in LA’s New Age circles… if I were to finally settle down, who would be the best match for me?”
Without hesitation, Ohom replied, “Elizabeth England is the perfect mate for you.”
Elizabeth England at the Jerome, AZ Butterfly
I didn’t know then how prophetic that answer would become. I had only met Elizabeth a handful of times at various LA Dreamshield events I’d been holding at Ohom’s guidance. I knew little about her. But I did know this: Ohom had helped me before—and apparently wasn’t done.
Back in Ushuaia, after the ATM disaster, I sat stunned, broke, unsure if I’d even make it to Mexico. Then, out of nowhere, PayPal glitched. A transfer I had already written off suddenly appeared in my account.
Call it luck. Call it tech. I call it Ohom.
With that miracle money, I began the brutal journey north. The Mayan symposium had promised to pick me up at the Cancun airport—after I’d spent everything I had—but never showed. Pat was furious when I told him. He’d practically funded the event himself, and they were dropping the ball left and right.
I had just six hours to get to Chichén Itzá to film him.
“Well, how did you get to me?” he asked, concerned.
I explained how I’d struck a desperate deal with a taxi driver to take me to the symposium. He gave me five minutes to find the director and get him paid. I searched everywhere—no Pat, no Nick, no director. So the driver took my luggage as fare. Everything but the shirt on my back, gone.
Screenshot
Pat loved the story of Ohom’s dating advice and the journey to him and he said as he shook my hand goodbye, “Well, I appreciate you going to the max to honor your bargain to film me here,” he said. “You ever want to film me again, just ask.”
They’d filled the resort Pat and his wife Stephanie, busy somewhere at the symposium were staying at, so I booked a cheap room nearby, washed the clothes I’d been living in for 50 hours, bought a symposium T-shirt, and collapsed into a hammock.
As I drifted off to the sounds of the Mexican jungle surrounding the pyramid of Chichen Itza, I thought of Antarctica. Of Ohom. Of Elizabeth. And of the dream that had brought me here, against all odds, to film one of the most remarkable minds on Earth.
Next up for my Remembering Patrick Flanagan stories. Breaking the news to Elizabeth that a thought traveling ET thought she was my perfect mate and my perfect pitch to Dr. Flanagan.
Visit our Dr. Flanagan page to learn more about Pat’s health and meditation boosting inventions.
