Rahu + Moon = Visions come standard. Instructions not included

Rahu and Moon together feel strange. The mind doesn’t rest. It listens elsewhere. Not to thoughts, but to signals. Emotions come heavy and fast. But they don’t always belong to you. You feel what others miss. You see what isn’t there. In alien contact astrology, this is a mark. A quiet one. A soft hum in the soul. You came in with a receiver. It never turns off.

Dreams are not just dreams. They feel alive. Familiar. Sometimes frightening. You visit places that don’t exist here. You wake with names you’ve never heard. Sometimes, the visions come when you’re wide awake. Images flash. Time folds. Something presses through the veil. But no guide appears. No voice explains. You’re left with fragments. Emotion without story. Truth without words. The message is real. But it arrives broken.

Rahu stretches. It pulls the soul toward the unknown. The Moon remembers. It feels everything. When they meet, you’re pulled between feeling and distortion. You know things too soon. You feel things too deeply. The present doesn’t hold still. The past doesn’t stay buried. You remember what isn’t yours. You carry the weight of lifetimes you never lived. And yet, it’s all inside you.

As a child, you sensed it. The difference. The weight. The watching. You may have spoken to things others couldn’t see. You may have cried without reason. You may have known something was coming, but not what. The adults called you sensitive. Maybe even strange. But you were tuned in. The signal was clear. The noise came later. Life made you doubt it. But the feeling never left.

You search for meaning in strange places. You study symbols, stars, shadows. You move through ideas like rooms. Nothing sticks for long. You trust the pull. You follow what doesn’t make sense. And yet, it always leads somewhere. People call you intuitive. But it’s not guessing. It’s remembering. It’s hearing without sound. Seeing without light.

Your emotions don’t stay still. They swell, vanish, return again. Sometimes they’re yours. Often they’re not. You feel the crowd before you see it. You carry the sorrow of strangers. You know when someone is lying. But you may not say it. Silence becomes a shield. Distance becomes peace. You’re not cold. Just overwhelmed.

In love, you vanish and return. You need closeness but also space. You feel too much, too fast. Your heart knows stories before your mind does. You sense the end before it begins. You drift, not because you don’t care, but because you feel everything. And it gets heavy.

You may look calm. But inside, you swim in stars. In messages. In echoes. You feel like a messenger without language. A translator of signals that have no name. In alien contact astrology, this is the empath path. The one who came not to lead or follow, but to sense. To collect. To carry.

You walk among others. You nod, you smile, you try. But a part of you stays distant. Watching. Waiting. Not for answers—just for recognition. For the moment someone else says, “I see it too.” Until then, you carry the transmissions. Alone, but not lost. The visions come. The instructions don’t. Still, you move forward. You always have.