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OrHow I Learned to Cope WithHigh Strangeness, Government Harassment,and My Mother- a True Story -by
Chuck Weiss
ABDUCTED BY ALIENS:Or How I learned to cope With High Strangeness,Government Harassment, and My Mother (a true story)
© 2008 Chuck Weiss“Of Rats and Men,” “To Laugh or To Cry,”and “I Led Three Lives” © 1995 Chuck Weiss.Cover Art and Illustrations © 2008 Dana AugustineAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, fax or email,without specific written permission from the author. Reviewersmay quote brief passages.Visit www.
for updates andnew articles.Address all correspondence to . . .
Comments are welcome.
Proofreading Services by Hyperlife.netFirst Printing: September, 2008
Due to the adult nature of some of the content herein,this book should not be read by persons under the age of eighteen.
3For my daughter
................................................................................... 6
MY AWAKENING: Personal Journal Part One
January 19, 1994 – November 12, 1994 ........................................................ 10
MY RETURN: Personal Journal Part Two
May 30, 2006 – August 5, 2006 ……………………………………………. 114
Terms and Definitions ……………………………………………………… 132The “Physical” Evidence …………………………………………………… 137Puncture Marks ………………………………………………………. 137Raised Veins ………………………………………………………….. 140Bruises ………………………………………………………………... 141Left Foot, Right Foot, a Painful Dance ………………………………. 141The Case of the Mysterious Mussels …………………………………. 142A Cleansing? ………………………………………………………….. 144What Did They Do to My Teeth? …………………………………….. 145Funny, I don’t Remember Having Brain Surgery ……………………. 145Nighttime Sunburns ………………………………………………….. 147Spontaneous Healings ………………………………………………... 150Have We Met Before? ……………………………………………………… 154Something with Claws ……………………………………………………… 155My “Secret School” ………………………………………………………… 157The ET Employment Agency ………………………………………………. 159Missing Time in Bumper-to-Bumper Traffic ……………………………… 161Insects in My Face …………………………………………………………. 166The Flying Van …………………………………………………………….. 167The Miracle of the Lamp …………………………………………………… 171
My Second Paradigm Shift …………………………………………………. 174Surveillance & Monthly Break-Ins………………………………………….. 178Red Herrings ………………………………………………………………... 181Discovered My Tail ………………………………………………………… 186Outed the Mole …………………………………………………………….. 187My TV is Watching Me! ……………………………………………………. 189The Second Camera ……………………………………………………….. 191Blood & Guts in the Shower ………………………………………………... 193They Got at Me through My Girlfriend …………………………………….. 195The Missing Pillow Case & the Beautiful Blond …………………………… 198Rape, the Ultimate Harassment……………………………………………… 201
A Difficult Relationship …………………………………………………….. 208
And Then There Was Father, Too………………………………………….. 213
Why Me? ……………………………………………………………………. 222What do We Call Ourselves? ……………………………………………….. 225“Who’s Who,” an Alien Program Guide …………………………………… 230Three Period Pieces …………………………………………………………. 340Of Rats and Men ……………………………………………………… 240To Laugh or To Cry ………………………………………………….. 241I Led Three Lives …………………………………………………….. 244Recovering Memories through Hypnotherapy ……………………………… 246
Advice to the Newly Awakened …………………………………………… 250Do We Really Want an End to the UFO Cover-Up? ……………………….. 258
Testing, Testing 1-2-3 ………………………………………………………. 264Joe’s Apartment ………………………………………………………. 264Personal Heroes ……………………………………………………….. 270A Test of Character …………………………………………………… 272Who Are These People? (An Unsettling Conclusion) ……………………… 288A “Unified Theory” for ET Agendas ……………………………………….. 297As Above, So Below………………………………………………………… 304It’s a Shooting War …………………………………………………………. 309A Brief History of the War between The Light and The Dark ……….. 311The Nazi – Occult Connection and WWII as “Armageddon”………… 312Operation Paperclip: America’s Trojan Horse ……………………….. 3211947 – 2012: The Final Curtain ……………………………………… 328
My Letter to the Mole ……………………………………………………… 336Letter on Army Stationery Saying UFOs Thought to be Extraterrestrial ….. 338Famous Conspiracy Theorists in History …………………………………… 339Recommended Reading ……………………………………………………. 341
Photographs ………………………………………………………………… 351Acknowledgements ………………………………………………………… 355Index………………………………………………………………………… 356
Opening Statement
This book is two things.First, it is an attempt to document more than a dozenyears of my life, as I’ve tried to cope with visits in the night bya Great Unknown and harassment by my own government. It ismy hope that people who read this account, and who haverecently “awakened” to their own ET experiences, will findsolace in the fact that they are not alone. As someone who has“gone to hell and back,” I hope to make the road a little lessbumpy for others.This book is also a presentation of my theory, a decadein the making and sure to be controversial, as to origin of theGrays and their purpose here on Earth. Although this is not ascholarly work, I’ve done research and provide sources in thefootnotes to back my hypothesis.What this book is not, is an attempt to convince anyoneof anything. Although I certainly hope that people will judgeme to be a truthful person, I really don’t care if the readerbelieves what I’m about to relate or not. I didn’t write this forskeptics. I’ll leave them for the researchers.And, of course, some names have been changed in avain attempt to protect the innocent.Chuck Weiss
8In January of 1994 I began to experience a series of curious incidents, which when considered together presented amystery that I could not ignore. I decided early on to recordthese events as they occurred, so as not to lose any details to afaulty memory. Everything reported herein happened asdescribed.Chuck Weiss“And you know something is happening,But you don’t know what it is,Do you Mr. Jones.”Bob Dylan
My Awakening
Personal Journal: Part One
January 19, 1994 – November 12, 1994
Wednesday, January 19, 1994
Some strange things have been happening. I think itmight be wise if I put this down on paper. I want to be sure thatlater I remember everything correctly. I don’t know why. I justhave an uneasy feeling about this. Here goes.I woke up twice last night to the ring of my bedsidetelephone. The first time was at 2:20 A.M. It happened again acouple of hours later. Both times when I answered the phone,all I heard was the dial tone.This has happened several nights in a row now. Thefirst few times I heard a bell and woke up puzzled becausenothing in my bedroom could produce a bell tone. After thatthe sound has been that of a ringing telephone. I have a definitememory of once being woken up by a loud buzzer. At first Ithought it was the clock-radio alarm. Actually I rememberhearing the buzzer sound more than once. I remember thesecond time thinking that I really did have to check the clock radio, as I had thought to do earlier.I’ll disconnect the telephone tonight and set the alarmfor a special time to be sure they’re not at fault. But the ringhas always been a bit subdued and doesn’t have quite the sametone as the telephone in my bedroom.Another thing – as I sat in the living room thinkingabout all of this, I suddenly got the feeling that I should go intothe bathroom and inspect myself closely. When I did I noticed
11two small parallel lines, about ½ to ¾ of an inch long, low onthe back of my neck above the shoulder blades. They appear tobe newly formed scabs.As I stood pondering how I could have scratched myself so deeply as to draw blood without noticing it, I realized that Ihad seen these two scabs before in exactly the same place abouta year ago. At the time I dismissed it. People are alwayshurting themselves in minor ways without knowing it. But nowthis is the second time these scabs have formed in exactly thesame place. I’m sure of it and the feeling of déjà vu isunsettling.There is also a long scrape mark across my leftshoulder. It’s red and ugly looking, but strangely it doesn’thurt. I don’t know how I got it. This is too weird.
Thursday, January 20
I woke up twice again last night to the single ring of atelephone, once at 1:26 A.M. and again at 3:21 A.M. (I’vedecided to note all the details as accurately as possible and toinclude them in this journal.) I had disconnected the telephonein my bedroom and turned off the ringers of the other housephones before I went to bed. As I suspected, these are audiohallucinations.While it is disturbing, to say the least, to think that I amhaving hallucinations of any sort, I have discovered somethingeven more unnerving. Thinking about the two scabs on the
12back of my neck reminded me of something an old girlfriendsaid about a year ago. We had been making love when shenoticed that there was a scar on my genitals. Perhaps it was thepassion of the moment, but I forgot about what she had saiduntil now.I examined myself closely tonight and, sure enough,there is a long scar that runs the full length of the shaft on theunderside of my penis, from tip to base, and continues a quarterof the way around at the bottom. It looks as if I was filleted,like a fish. I certainly do not remember anything to explainsuch a scar. I have an appointment for my annual physical in acouple of months. I’ll ask my doctor how old the scar appearsto be. Even if there was a slip of the knife during mycircumcision as an infant, I don’t understand how an accidentlike that could have caused such a long and extensive wound,or why I wouldn’t have noticed it until now.
Friday, January 21
I took the telephone off line again last night, but I haveno memory of having any audio hallucinations. The two scabshave all but disappeared from where I found them a couple of days ago, at the base of my neck and between the shoulders. Ithink I can see a couple of lines or faint scars.There is also a bulge on my neck, just above where thescabs were and a little to the left of the spine. I’m mentioning
13this only to be thorough in my observations. It may have beenthere before. I don’t remember noticing it, though.
Sunday, February 20
Today the top of my head felt tender. I felt a scab of some sort, and as I rubbed it small granules of dried blood cameoff on my fingers. It had the consistency of crystallized sugar.I’ve never known a scab to form that way. Usually a scab is ahard, crusted thing, not something that crumbles into granulesin your hand. I have no idea how I might have injured myself.I’ve “heard” some more audio hallucinations the pastcouple of nights. They were the same telephone ring, but notnearly as loud as the ones I heard last month. After I heard thefirst one I was too sleepy to try and stay awake, so I just rolledover and went back to sleep.I’ve also had headaches, off and on, throughout the day.
Monday, February 21
I woke up twice last night to the same audiohallucinations. The last time was approximately 5:20 A.M.,when I got up and had breakfast. I can’t seem to sleep morethan two or three hours in a row, day or night. The headaches Ihad yesterday have continued throughout today.
Evening (10:45 P.M.):
I don’t know what’s going on. All I can do is documentwhat happened. A few minutes ago I tried to work out on my
14exercise machine and injured myself badly, straining my leftarm and chest muscle. In order to stand the pain, I had to holdmy arm tightly against my body with my right hand. Thenwhile I was sitting on the couch trying to think if I had an Acebandage in the closet, or if I would have to go out and buy one,I felt something press several times against my lower back atthe base of my spine. The sensation lasted a good two or threeseconds. I looked behind me. There was nothing on the couch,but then I noticed that my arm and chest no longer hurt.The pain is completely gone! All this happened in lessthan a minute after getting off the exercise machine. My leftarm feels like it’s walking up from a Novocain shot, but there’sno pain, even when I move it around. I had thought I wasgoing to have to get an Ace bandage and tape my chest. Oneminute severe pain, the next nothing! This is not natural.What’s happening to me?
Thursday, February 24
My arm and chest have not hurt at all since that firstminute after the injury, three days ago. That’s not to say theyfeel normal, because they don’t. I can definitely feel that I hurtmyself, but it’s as if the injury happened a couple of weeks ago.There is a slight weakness in the area. Until today, there wasno pain, soreness, or weakness. I’m able to use my arm as if nothing had happened. It’s as if my body flooded itself with
15endorphins that first minute and has maintained them at a highconcentration for the last three days.
Tuesday, March 1
I still can’t sleep well, day or night. It’s very rare thatI’ll sleep more than two or three hours straight before wakingup.Last night I woke up in a panic. I have no memory of having a nightmare, or of dreaming at all for that matter, yet Iflung myself up in bed. My heart was racing and I felt veryanxious. After a few deep breaths, I was able to calm myself. Igot up for five minutes or so and then went back to bed.Usually if a dream is frightening enough to wake you, you haveat least the memory of having a nightmare. I have no idea whatfrightened me awake.My stomach acid is way up. In addition to the Zantactablets I normally take, I have to take a couple of antacidsbefore going to bed. If I don’t, I’m likely to wake up with amouthful of stomach acid. This is getting very tiresome.
Tuesday, March 22
(3:00 A.M.)
As I was getting ready for bed tonight, I noticed in thebathroom mirror that the two scabs I noticed in late Januaryhave returned. They are in the same location, at the base of myneck between the shoulders. When I saw them, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. This is the third time that I remember
16seeing them and each time they were in exactly the same spot.When I look at them, I’m filled with dread. I’m afraid, but Idon’t know what of.I still have major problems sleeping. I catnap wheneverI can, but a cat sleeps more soundly than I do. My annualcheck-up with my doctor is this afternoon. I hope that he cananswer some of my questions.
 I met with my doctor, and let him read this journal. Hewas, of course, noncommittal. He had no explanation for thescar on my penis. He told me that it’s impossible to tell howold a scar is just by looking at it. I could have had it for oneyear or forty-six, if it happened as result of my circumcision.This is a major disappointment.Neither had he heard of any case where the body hadspontaneously anesthetized itself after a painful injury. He alsoexamined the scabs on the back of my neck and said that theylooked like scratches, and that I obviously scratched myself while sleeping.I asked him to renew my Zantac prescription, which hedid. I seem to need it now more than ever. Before all of thisstarted happening I was taking one 200 mg tablet once a day,but now I take two per day, sometimes three. If I don’t, Isuddenly wake up in the middle of the night with my mouth fullof stomach acid. I explained all of this to my doctor and again
17he didn’t have an explanation. Cases of “projectile vomiting”are common among people who are overweight, have a hiatalhernia and/or live with high levels of stress, but it’s evidentlynot known to happen while the person is sleeping.To help me sleep, the doctor gave me a prescription forHalcion, but I declined his offer of Valium. I don’t want anypsychotropic drugs. Besides, I’m sure that I’m not a manic-depressive. I do get depressed, sometimes severely, but I’mnever manic.He also suggested psychiatric help, which I alsodeclined for the time being. I’m leery of putting myself in thehands of the mental health community, even if my insurancewould cover it. I don’t want any medical database to list me asa possible psychotic. In this information age, once someone islabeled like that it’s hard to correct any mistakes. Not that Ihaven’t thought at times that maybe I was having mentalproblems. But somehow that explanation doesn’t feel right. Aperson isn’t likely to scratch himself in his sleep, to the point of drawing blood, three separate times in the same hard-to-reachlocation, without waking up!I did, however, tell my doctor that I wouldn’t mindseeing a hypnotherapist to explore any suppressed trauma. Atthat he recommended his own father and gave me his brochure,which describes him as a Diplomat of the American Board of Hypnosis for Internal Medicine. I think I lucked out. My
18doctor said that he’s having dinner with his father tomorrownight and will brief him concerning my case.I set a follow-up appointment for April 22
Thursday, March 24
I went back to my doctor today to have blood drawn forthe standard tests that are a part of the annual physical examthat I had on Tuesday. He forgot to order the tests at the time,probably because he got sidetracked reading my journal. I took the opportunity to ask him to talk with his colleagues to see if they could explain the scar on my penis and he assured me thathe would, adding, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”Well, neither have I. In all my years, I’ve never noticedit. It’s so extensive that I don’t see how I could have missed it,unless of course, it is a new scar.
Monday, March 28
Although I’ve been interested in the UFO phenomenonfor many years, I purposely have stayed away from the subjectof “Alien Abductions.” The idea of people being floated out of their bedrooms by beings from outer space just seemed toopreposterous to consider seriously. Now, I’m not so sure.I bought a video entitled
Contact UFO: Alien Abduction
. I don’t know why I bought it. As I said, I wouldn’tnormally consider such a fantastic explanation for myproblems. In fact I picked it up and put it down several times
19before finally taking it to the checkout counter. Something just“clicked” inside me when I saw it, and I had to buy it.A number of physical and emotional symptoms aredescribed in the video as being common among those who havesupposedly been abducted by UFOs. They are identical withwhat is called “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” a conditionfound among people who have undergone a traumatic event,such as Viet Nam veterans or Middle East hostages.The disturbing thing is that I recognize these symptomsas having been persistent problems for me, on and off, thesemany years. I believe now that they contributed to thedisintegration of my marriage. At that time I thought that I wassuffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and tried,unsuccessfully, to confirm that with my doctor.Here is a list of my symptoms.1.
I can’t sleep more than two or three hours beforewaking up. I’ll nod off easily during the day but,again, I can’t sleep more than a couple of hours at atime.2.
I experience “projectile vomiting” (stomach acidshooting up into the mouth) while I’m sleeping. Mydoctor says that for this to happen while the person isasleep is unheard of medically.3.
I’ll go through periods of time when I behavecompulsively. These include eating and shoppingbinges. (I’ve maxed out my credit cards this waybecause I just can’t stop myself when this happens.)4.
At times it’s hard to concentrate, except on thesimplest of tasks.
During these times, it’s very hard to motivate myself,either to do everyday chores or, sometimes, even tophysically move from my spot.6.
I have facial ticks that come and go. These are almostalways supposed to be indications of extreme stress.7.
There are periods when my heart will suddenly beginracing. This is always accompanied by feelings of high anxiety.8.
I also cry easily, but not about anything that concernsme personally. I get emotional over things likecompassion and feelings of humanity (or rather thelack of such in our society).Except for the first and last symptoms, which areconstant, they all seem to come on strong at first and thendiminish over time, until they disappear entirely. Afterwards,there are usually a few months when my anxiety and depressionare under control, but the cycle always begins again withrenewed intensity.I need to learn more about this thing called “AlienAbduction.”
Wednesday, March 30
I went to see my friend Leila and took my journal.After she read it she offered alternate explanations for almostevery concern.The audio hallucinations could be a result of a desire tohear the phone ring, as my telephone brings me business. Shereminded me that Sol, a client of mine, died about the time I
21began hearing them. Besides the friendship we developed overthe years, as a client he also represented a thousand dollars of income per month in my medical transportation business. For aone-person operation, the loss of twelve thousand dollars a yearof income can certainly be a cause of anxiety.The scratches and scrapes that I found on my body canbe explained by my wearing a watch to bed every night, shesaid. We are always hurting ourselves in minor ways and thenonly discovering it well after the accident.She felt that even the scar on my genitals could beexplained, saying that sometimes boys are born with largeamounts of foreskin that has to be cut off. We agreed that sucha procedure might not even be mentioned to the parents,especially if it were performed as part of a standardcircumcision.The symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder couldbe the result of depression, she suggested, caused both by a badmarriage and, more recently, Sol’s death. She suggested anti-depressant medication.The one issue she didn’t address was the exercise injuryand its sudden healing. Neither of us mentioned that one. It’s ahard one to explain away.I bought a book about Alien Abductions titled
Communion: A True Story
. I think it was one of the first bookspublished on the subject. In it, the author, Whitley Strieber,
22describes how “they” inserted a long needle into his brain. Thenext morning he purportedly discovered a scab on the top of hishead composed of crystallized blood granules (just as I did) andfelt afterwards that he was being monitored.Did “they” flood my body with endorphins after myinjury on the exercise machine? If so, then “they” cansomehow monitor my body and/or my thoughts. How else did“they” respond so quickly? This is a frightening thought. Evento think such a thought is frightening. In my business Itransport mental health patients to locked mental wards, manyof whom claim to be monitored or controlled by unseen forces.However, I must admit that I do feel better after talkingwith Leila. I’ll defer judgment on all of this, but will continueto report anything unusual that happens.
Monday, April 4
Last night I had a memory of something that happened along time ago in childhood. It was triggered by something Iread over the weekend in
. I still haven’tcompleted the book. I have about a third of it left to finish. It’snot that long, but for some reason I’m hesitant to continuereading it, even though each chapter seem to confirm my ownexperiences. It’s like I don’t want to know, but I need to know.Under hypnosis, Strieber described an encounter with“The Visitors,” as he calls them, when he was about twelveyears old. He and his sister were playing in an empty lot close
23to home when something approached them. Afterwards, hissister told their parents that there was a “fireball” in the lot andthat’s why they ran home.Lying in bed last night, I suddenly remembered anincident that happened when I was a young boy at mygrandparents’ home in Oklahoma. I heard Happy
shout, “Afireball just landed in the driveway! A fireball just landed inthe driveway!” I think that I was in the big bedroom at thetime, where I didn’t have a direct view of the driveway, but Ican’t be sure. I also have some kind of memory of being in theliving room, trying to get at the curtains to look out thewindow, which did face directly onto the driveway.At any rate, I have a distinct memory of mygrandmother’s voice becoming more and more agitated.“There is someone at the door,” she shouted. “They’re comingthrough the door!” My mother and grandfather tried to calmher saying, “See? There’s no one at the door, Happy. There’snothing in the driveway.”“I saw a fireball in the driveway,” she insisted. I thinit was my mother who, trying to make sense of it all, suggestedthat the driveway might have been struck by lightning, whichcould have then formed a fireball of electricity. Almost as soonas it was suggested, this explanation was discarded because no
Everyone called my grandmother “Happy.” The nickname was given toher early in her life by her friends and it suited her well.
24one had heard a thunderclap, which would have certainlyfollowed any lightning strike so close to the house. I have nomemory of it raining either, for that matter. I think it was asunny afternoon, in fact. Mother also reasoned that lightningwould have scorched the driveway, although I don’t recallanyone leaving the house to inspect the area. I did so, but onlyafter I got home from school the next day. I remember that Iinspected the driveway carefully, but found nothing out of theordinary.I haven’t thought about this incident since it happened.When that was, I don’t remember exactly. I think it was shortlyafter my parents separated, when Mother and I left Father inCalifornia to live with my grandparents in Oklahoma. I calledMother tonight and asked if she remembered any such incident.I was hoping for an independent confirmation, but shedoesn’t remember anything. She asked if maybe I wasconfusing her with Nancy, Happy’s best friend, who often cameto visit. But if that were true, I would have certainly beenplaying with one of Nancy’s daughters, either Felicia, who ismy age, or Tina, who is two years older. They alwaysaccompanied their mother when she came to visit and weenjoyed the time playing together, but I have no memory of them being there during the incident.I can’t talk with Happy because she died many yearsago, in 1974. Billy, my grandfather, is in his mid-eighties and
25still lives in Oklahoma. I’ll call him soon, but I don’t hold outmuch hope that he’ll remember anything. His memory isfailing. If she can’t remember this incident, I’ll bet that Billyhas forgotten it too. I wish Happy were alive. She wouldremember.I’ve got to say that I’m filled with a profound sense of relief. This must be what is called a “missing time episode.”Even though Mother is unable to confirm the incident, I amnow positive that it happened as I have described it in its majordetails. The memory of my grandmother becoming more andmore excited about a “fireball in the driveway” and somethingabout people at the front door is very real in my mind now.The speculation about a lightning strike, and the reasons fordismissing that explanation, are just as vivid a memory.I know that this happened, and it doesn’t matter if I canprove it or not, because now I know that I’m not having anervous breakdown. That has been a very real concern of mineduring the last month and a half. I thought that maybe I hadbecome hysterical, taking a “molehill” of little things that mightbe easily explained and making out of it a “mountain” bigenough to bury me. But now I know that is not the case.Something did happen those many years ago and it’s probablybeen happening to me, off and on, ever since.
Wednesday, April 6
Emotionally I feel better than I have in months. It’s as
26if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I knownow that I’m not crazy and that is a relief. But still every night,as I prepare for bed, I experience what many American soldiersmust have felt. It’s as if I’m on night patrol in Viet Nam, neverknowing if I’m going to “engage the enemy.”Last night I got little sleep at all, having forgotten totake my medication. I woke up in a flash, heart pounding, tothat familiar ring of a phantom telephone. Like Pavlov’s dog,my body reacted with a full-blown panic attack. The clock onmy nightstand read 2:40 A.M.By the time I calmed myself enough to try and sleepagain, it was just past three o’clock. I don’t think I fell asleep,though. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. Therefore I wassurprised to roll over in bed and see that the clock read 5:55A.M. It hadn’t seemed to be more than fifteen minutes (or ahalf-hour at most) since I tried to go back to sleep, but the clock said that almost three hours had passed. Did I sleep so lightlythat I thought I had only closed my eyes for a few minutes, orwas this another “missing time episode?”A few nights ago, I remembered an old James Bondmovie, where he wanted to know when anyone entered hishotel room while he was away. He carefully secured a strandof thread across the door jamb, so that it would fall to the floorif the door were opened in his absence. Taking a clue from007, I have been placing a small cardboard gift box up against
27the door every night before retiring. If someone were to enterthe room while I was asleep, the door, which opens into theroom, would move the box aside. Although the box was firmlyagainst the door when I got up this morning, it was a couple of inches from where I had carefully placed it last night. Eitherthis is really happening, or I have very complicatedhallucinations.
Late Evening:
 I had a rabbi friend of mine over tonight. We had madethe date a while ago, when I was fearful of my own sanity andfelt that I needed some emotional support. He was relieved tosee that I wasn’t as distraught as I had sounded when we hadlast talked on the phone.I had him sit down and read my journal, as it stands todate. This saves a lot of time and insures that I don’t leave outany important observations. He deferred judgment, but did saythat my list of symptoms ran the range from Post-TraumaticStress Disorder to schizophrenia to full-blown psychosis. Healso agreed that regressive hypnosis would be the only way toknow for sure what was happening.I told him of my concerns for Katherine, my eight-year-old daughter. She hasn’t slept in her own room for over a yearnow, insisting on sleeping with her mother instead. My wife,Margaret, and I thought at the time that Katie was reacting to
28our separation, but she had told her mother that it was becausethere were “monsters and bad men” in her room.There was another girl who had been sharing the roomwith Katie. Six years ago, Dorothy, who is now fourteen yearsold, came to live with us. She shared a room with her mother,Maria, who has been our live-in housekeeper and Katherine’snanny since Katie was a year old.Of course as Dorothy grew older she preferred to sharea room with Katie, her younger “sister,” rather than alwaysbeing under the watchful eye of her mother. Margaretpurchased a pair of bunk beds for the room and both Katie andDorothy seemed pleased with the arrangement. However,Dorothy moved back to her mother’s room when Katherinestarted sleeping with her mother. I would think that a teenagegirl would find it a stroke of good fortune to suddenly have aroom all to herself, but evidently not. Now, no one sleeps inthat bedroom.It has been said that Alien Abductions are oftengenerational, involving both parent and child. Is my Katieinvolved in this thing too? Did Katie and Dorothy seesomething in that room that frightened them so much that theyboth prefer to give up their privacy, rather than sleep thereagain?I told the rabbi that I was planning to ask Katherine to
29draw “wanted” posters of those “monsters and bad men” for thepolice. He agreed that that sounded like a good idea and that itwould be interesting to see what she comes up with, but hecautioned me to be particularly careful not to give her anysubconscious suggestions as to how to draw her pictures. Atthat age children are susceptible to the expectations of adults,especially those of their parents.I asked the rabbi about the ethics of dating. If Aliensare indeed abducting me, could I in good conscience have anykind of intimate relationship with a woman if it meant shemight be abducted as well? Or should I live alone the rest of my life, rather than risk subjecting others to what I’m goingthrough?He said that there were probably many women whowould be attracted by the idea of a relationship with someonewho is intimately acquainted with Extraterrestrials, and that Ishould let any perspective girlfriend decide for herself.What a pick-up line! “Do you want to come over to myplace, stay the night and meet ET?”
Friday, April 8
Last night I let my friend, Robert Akins, read my journal. I thought that he had said that he had read
, but I had evidently misunderstood him. WhitleyStrieber is one of his favorite authors, but he hasn’t read thatparticular book.
30His reaction has convinced me to be much more carefulas to whom I “come out” to on this subject. It’s just like Bob,though. He’s proud of being logical about things and notswayed by emotion, but he’s also closed minded. He has nointerest in the UFO phenomenon, much less encounters withtheir occupants. To him, every mystery must have a rationalexplanation, and any extraterrestrial explanation for lights inthe sky can’t be rational. He should reread
. “There aremore things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in yourphilosophy,” Robert.We then watched the movie
, the screenplayof which Strieber adapted from his book. I had bought it, buthadn’t seen it until now. As we watched the movie, I wasstruck how my own life has paralleled that of Mr. Strieber’s.Strieber had been obsessed with “home protection” andhad purchased a shotgun for that purpose, even though hishome had never had a break-in. He also bought an expensivealarm system for their cabin in the country, again without anyprior provocation.I, too, purchased a gun and an expensive alarm systemfor home protection. I have long had a paranoid belief that theend of civilization was near, and that hordes of hungry anddesperate people would swarm over the countryside, raping andpillaging when the new “Dark Ages” began. Shortly after wegot married, Margaret and I purchased some undeveloped
31property in Northern California to use as our retreat for whenthis would happen. I realize now just how paranoid we were,but at the time Margaret and I both shared that nightmarishfantasy.The movie also reminded me of the many times lastyear when, for no apparent reason, certain house lights wouldturn off and on repeatedly. A check of the fuses never revealedanything out of the ordinary. Also, lights that I knew I had justturned off would suddenly come back on. I joked that I had agremlin in the house. These incidents finally subsided and Ihaven’t had any trouble, until recently. During the past coupleof months there have been several times when I knew that I hadturned off the basement lights, but found them to be on laterwhen I returned.Since my recollection of the missing time episode inOklahoma, my mental attitude in regard to these visitations hasbecome quite positive. I want to see this thing through. I wantto know what I’m involved in. I’ll accept a “normal”explanation for these strange events if that is what is revealed,but I have to know.
Saturday, April 9
Last night I wanted to see if my new positive attitudewould help me to sleep without the aid of somethingpharmaceutical. Besides, I was dog-tired and felt certain that Iwould drop off quickly once I got into bed. Not the case. I
32tossed and turned for two hours, before getting up and finallytaking a Halcion tablet at 4:30 A.M.Between then and when I got up this morning at nineo’clock, I remember hearing the faint but distinct ring of atelephone two different times. I didn’t take note of when theyhappened. I was too tired to open my eyes and look at theclock as I usually do. Besides, since I hear these rings so oftennow, and can tell them apart from the actual ringing of myphone, I don’t have to respond to them.When I got up, I saw that the lid of the gift box that Ikeep against the door at night had become warped and wascurled upward at the edge. Yet it hasn’t rained or beenparticularly humid. Also, that box has been in my bedroom forseveral months, before I started using it as a detection device,and this is the first time that it has been bent out of its originalshape. Could whatever force they use to put the box back inposition after their visits have caused it to warp like that?
Sunday, April 10
I wrote a poem last night, which describes the conflictbetween my desire to take these visits as a positive experiencein my life and the sense of helplessness that I’m often left withafterwards. I believe it’s the feeling of not being in control thattriggers my body’s panic reactions. Even as I write this now, Ifeel my heart rate quicken with anxiety.I got to bed at 2:30 in the morning, after taking my
33Halcion tablet. The sleeping medication kept me unconsciousuntil eight o’clock, when I woke up in a state of mild agitation.I took my pulse and it was higher than accepted norms, but notas bad as during a full panic attack. I was still very tired anddecided to try and sleep some more.I don’t remember any dreams during the first sleepperiod. This is usually the case when I sleep so lightly. Butthis time I had a long and pleasant dream that ended when Iawoke again around eleven o’clock, feeling fully rested. I wantto describe it here because I think that the symbolism is fairlyobvious, when examined in the context of my nocturnal visits.I’m on some mass transit system (bus or train) withmany people and we’re off on a vacation. I don’t know any of them personally, but they’re all a friendly lot. We get to theresort and I’m assigned to take the group in a small openmotorized shuttle from the office area out to the cabins. Theroute I take is unpaved and confusing at times, but there’ssomeone there walking outside the shuttle who helps menavigate the path through the woods. At last we reach the cabinarea, but our rooms are on the roof of a building that is two orthree stories tall. We all climb the ladder attached to theoutside of the building to get to the roof and our separaterooms.In the dream I have been traveling with a small girlabout Katherine’s age, although it is not obviously her. She
34looks to me to guide and protect her and she expects to sharemy room with me. Meanwhile a woman has taken a specificliking to me and wants to bunk with me instead. But what of the little girl? She expects me to stay with her. “It’s okay,”I’m told. “There is another child she can stay with.” I’mreassured that she won’t mind switching rooms and, to mysurprise, she doesn’t.Well, this vacation is turning out to be fun. Here is abeautiful woman who wants to be with me with the expectationof friendly sex. In fact, after the group gathers and has dinner,my female companion can hardly wait to return to our cabin forexactly that reason. In fact, she is in such a hurry to begin thatshe literally pushes me up the ladder to the top of the roof where our love nest awaits.When we get to the roof, we find a lively party inprogress. I meet a man who seems friendly at first, but later heassaults me by throwing a bomb in my direction. It misses meand fails to go off. It’s then that I see that it is a big firecracker,the implication being that it was meant more to frighten than toharm.The others immediately grab him and tell me that thereis nothing to worry about, that they won’t let him try to harmme again. To detain him, they press him up against the wall,while a few of the partygoers accompany me to the office tocall the police.
35When I return, again climbing the ladder to get to theroof, I find that the “madman” is loose again and angry as hell.He does a series of high acrobatic somersaults, much like DarylHannah did in the movie, “Blade Runner.” Giving me a glaringlook, he charges directly at me, doing those somersaults. Hepurposely doesn’t stop, going past me instead and over the edgeof the roof in an angry suicide. I look down and see that he isstill alive, although badly hurt. People come and take himaway and, again, the group reassures me that I needn’t fear himanymore.The party picks up again, this time with me as the“guest of honor.” The woman whom I had met beforecontinues to flirt with me. She’s good looking and quitelikeable, so off we go to the bedroom. Everyone gathers towatch through the door, which has large glass panels, but Iprefer privacy and drape a sheet over the door to block theirview. However, this doesn’t deter their good-natured curiosityand they try to peek around the edges of the sheet anyway.I woke up at that point, feeling completely rested andpeaceful. The dream gave me all that I needed, the casting outof anger and fear, reassurance that I was not in danger, andfriendly support from people who seem to really like me. Iteven suggested a motive for their intrusion into my life(peeking through the door), that of genuine curiosity.In reality, I’m sure that there is more to it than that. I
36suspect, though, that a great adventure lies ahead of me justtrying to figure out what that “more” is.
An unknown creatureVisits me at night.With big dark eyes, My heart is pounding and racing,He fills me with fright. A full panic attack,But it’s an instinctive reaction,He shatters my sense Nothing based upon fact.Of peace and well being,Coming and going, For as I see it,All the time unseen. He’s done me no harm.It’s just my bodyLike a Leprechaun, That sounds the alarm.He pokes and teases.Nothing can stop him. My mind, instead,He does what he pleases. Wants to perceiveThat which he hasBut as I stare at him, For me to receive.Lying there in my bedShaking with fear, Answers to questions?My soul full of dread, I don’t think he’ll tell,For we make our own heaven,The thought comes to me And we make our own hell.That I do not know,If this creature I see But I can use his visitsIs really a foe. To shrink or to grow.This is my choice,If we live our lives That I now know.Thinking we’re in control,Finding we’re not My body I’m sureTakes a physical toll. Will recover in time.As I reach for the stars,It will follow behind.Chuck WeissApril 9, 1994
Monday, April 11
Today I spent the afternoon with Leila. She caught upon the latest entries in my journal and recommended ahypnotherapist she knows, saying that if she ever neededhypnotherapy he would be the only person whom she wouldtrust. I know that to trust anyone that much would be hard forLeila. There are very few people to whom she would relinquishcontrol for any reason.I’ll give this guy a call based upon her highrecommendation.
Tuesday, April 12
I called the hypnotherapist that Leila recommended andleft a message on his answering machine. He returned my calland, after I nervously explained why I wanted hypnotherapy, herecommended that I see a friend of his who is more versed inthe phenomenon of Alien Abduction.I told him that I preferred someone who was not alreadyinvolved in this sort of thing, so as not to color any of thequestions that would be asked while I was under hypnosis. Heunderstood and agreed to see me. However, the earliest date hehas available is May 13
. I have another month ahead of meuntil I can begin to resolve this. I feel a little better, though, just knowing that I might soon have some reasonable evidenceto prove to myself, and maybe even to others, that I’m not ahysteric.
38But if hypnosis doesn’t uncover anything, what then?Either I’m being abducted by Aliens, or I have definite mentalproblems. Either outcome is uncomfortable to contemplateand, if I’m not careful, I could land in a mental institutionregardless.
Wednesday, April 13
Tonight I was rereading the description of my“vacation” dream. The part where the “madman” confronts meand somersaults off the edge of the roof struck a chordsomewhere deep down inside. His angry leap off the rooftopreminded me of another dream I had years ago, when Katherinewas perhaps three or four years old.In that dream I heard someone screaming. It was a veryloud series of screams, very insistent and very long in duration.I searched and searched in vain for its source. There wasnothing but blackness, nothing at all but pitch black and thesound of that screaming.The screams grew louder and louder, filling my headalmost to bursting. I tried to wake up, but couldn’t. Finally Isaw a window and there, on the ledge, was a little girl. It wasthe girl who was screaming, and for some reason she was veryangry with me. Her screams were so loud that I had to covermy ears, but it just wouldn’t stop. I finally shouted, “Okay!Jump! Jump!” and she leaped off the ledge. The screamingstopped and I relaxed.
39Now, as I remember the dream, what stands out is theintensity of the scream. I couldn’t find where it was comingfrom and there wasn’t anywhere I could go to get away from it.It was so real. I hear it now, as I write this. I was in a panic. Iknow that I tried to wake up, but the dream wouldn’t end. Thescreaming wouldn’t stop.It sounded unrelenting, in that it was a series of screams, one with each breath. It was that unrelenting qualitythat reminded me of a temper tantrum, and I think that’s why Iassociated it with an angry child in the dream. But now I knowthat scream belonged to my Katie, a terrified little girl whocouldn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy didn’t come toher rescue. I’m sure that this must have been one of Katherine’s first visits. This explanation feels so right deepdown inside that it must be true.I’m so sorry, Katie. Please forgive me.
Thursday, April 14
Most dreams are just dreams, the subconscious mindworking things out with the conscious mind, the left handcommunicating with the right. Then, there are dreams that aremore than just dreams. These are a communication of somesort. We might have one or two of these in our lifetime, andtheir impact is usually so great that it leaves us trying to explainthem in some religious or spiritual way. But what I felt in thatdream was neither. I can’t remember ever having had a dream,
40before or since, where there was nothing but blackness. That’sall there was, blackness and that screaming in my head.I’m sure that it was Katherine’s scream that I heard,because I’ve heard it once before. It was when she was barely ayear old. She had just learned to walk when she got away fromher mother at a party we attended and stumbled, head first,through a basement door with glass panels. She cut a bloodygash above her eye and had to receive stitches at the hospitalemergency room. In preparation, the nurse put Katherine into achild’s straightjacket. I never saw Katherine so determined asshe struggled violently against the restraints. Somehow, shemanaged to get her hands free. After three nurses finally gother back into the straightjacket, they wrapped her up in plastictape like a mummy, to insure that she couldn’t escape again.Katherine screamed and screamed throughout theprocedure, one scream with each breath, her eyes rolling up intoher head, leaving just the white underside of her eyeballsvisible. At the time it upset her mother and me very much.This was that same scream that I heard in the blackness of my“dream.” I’m sure of it!Last night I cried for two hours before going to bed,exhausted and drained. This morning I reread what I wrote lastnight and cried some more. I feel like someone who was heldat gunpoint and forced to listen to the screams of his daughterbeing raped in the room next door.
41There is a tremendous amount of anger in me now. Ivowed last night to find the answer to all of this and to knowwhy! Why do they terrorize little children? If they know thatfirst contact is so frightening to us, why don’t they at least limittheir encounters to adults? My positive feelings about my ownrecent encounters have suddenly turned to either distrust, atbest, or to vengeful hate when I stop and think of Katie.As I wait for my hypnotherapy session, I know that it’sonly a matter of time until I begin to get some answers. I needto focus on that, so that meanwhile I can do all the mundaneday-to-day things that are required of everyone. As more of themental blocks begin to fall away, who knows what I maysuddenly remember?
Late Evening:
To summarize, I believe that I have beenabducted/visited by ETs off and on since early childhood, andthat my daughter is now beginning her own lifelong odysseywith these encounters. Now this is either true or it’s not. If it’snot true, then all the better. “False alarm, folks. You can all gohome now.” If it is true, however, their agenda is eitherbeneficial and worth the pain it causes people, or it’s not.People will gladly submit to heavy sacrifices if the cause isnoble enough, but can space aliens be trusted to be any moretruthful than the humans on whom they experiment? If thelaboratory monkey could inquire as to the motives of the
42research scientist, would the scientist tell the truth, or insteadsay anything that would inspire the monkey to cooperate?People loved
Close Encounters of the Third Kind 
. Withall that beautiful music, who wouldn’t want to be like RichardDreyfuss and go off to heaven with the little people in theirspaceship? And of course if you should really happen to meetan Extraterrestrial, just give him some candy and let him playwith your toys, then he’ll be your buddy for life.Well folks, it’s not like that. These little people comeright into your bedroom and, after they give you the biggestshock of your life, they take you and slice up your genitals.How’s that for fun? Maybe they should abduct StevenSpielberg, carve up his penis, make him listen to the screams of his children, and then ask him to make a sequel to E.T.!
Friday, April 15
I woke up at 2:26 A.M., again because of the audiohallucination, but went right back to sleep. I was too exhaustedto give a damn. When I awoke again, it was almost six o’clock.I haven’t slept that long in ages.I felt calmer this morning. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just numb.
The MacNeil/Lehrer News Hour had a disturbing storytoday. In Rwanda twelve hundred people were massacred,hacked to death with machetes inside a church. Half of the
43victims were said to be children. Hearing that deflated mysense of righteousness. If we as a species can murder our ownchildren like that, who’s to say that they don’t have the right tostudy us, even if they do traumatize us in the process? I don’tknow anymore.
Katherine is expecting to spend this weekend with me.I’m supposed to pick her up tomorrow afternoon. I’m worriedthough, that they might use the opportunity to take us together.I don’t want to hear her scream again.
Sunday, April 17
This was my weekend with Katherine, and she spentlast night with me. We slept in my bed because she refuses tosleep alone, whether in her house or mine. I have a couple of four-foot-long body pillows and I used one to divide the bedbetween us. Katie will be nine in July and I have to show somemodesty with her.Tonight we watched her videotape of 
The Secret Garden
, one of her current favorites, and my copy of themovie,
 Dennis the Menace
. I had to also reserve time in theevening’s schedule for one of her favorite TV shows,
 Are You Afraid of the Dark?
She says she loves scary mysteries.This is surprising to me, knowing that she frightens veryeasily. Her mother and I have often commented about howfearful Katherine is, almost as if she were an abused child. We
44have always agreed upon one point of parenting. We never hitKatie. She has never had a spanking. We choose more subtleforms of discipline instead, like disapproving looks and periodsof “time-out.” In fact, we’ve done everything we could think of to build her self-esteem. So why her timidity?Actually she was much different when she was younger.Almost from birth, Katherine believed and acted as if the onlydifference between her and any adult was just knowing how theworld worked. I remember that on the day she learned how totie her shoes, she announced quite confidently to her motherand me that the only other thing she needed to learn was how todrive the car.Young Katie moved through the world as if she ownedit. It was almost frightening. I’ve never known another childto be so self-confident, but now her demeanor is quite theopposite. Whereas when she was younger she expected to betreated as an adult wherever she went, now she’s afraid of standing out in any way. I think the change in her personalitybegan when she was about three or four years old, and Katiewas about that age when I had that dream of her screaming.Could the initial trauma of her abductions have caused such adrastic change in her personality?The
 Are You Afraid of the Dark?
episode we watchedtonight dealt with facing one’s worst fears. After it was over, Itook the opportunity to ask Katherine what it is that frightens
45her the most. She answered with a determination that told methat she had already given this some serious thought. “Trolls!”she said firmly.“What kind of trolls?” I asked.“Like the one in that movie,” she replied.I confirmed that she was referring to
 Ernest Scared Stupid 
. We had rented it about a year ago and I remember thatthe troll monster in the movie scared her terribly. She had seena couple of the
movies with her cousin, who is a yearyounger than her, and they both had enjoyed them. All hadgone well with this one too, until the troll monster firstappeared. Katherine became frantic. She couldn’t look at theTV screen and finally ran from the room, despite my assurancesthat there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. I’ve never seen herreact to anything with such obvious terror. She later told methat it was the glowing red eyes that frightened her so. Everysince then trolls have been her worst fear.Katherine always used to sleep with a light on. Foryears she insisted that her bedroom’s overhead light be left oneach night when she went to bed. We finally got her to accept abright table lamb instead, but now she wants total darknesswhenever she sleeps. I’ve begun sleeping with a nightlightmyself, but last night Katherine asked me to disconnect itwhenever she sleeps over. “You can see everything with it on,”
46she complained, looking slowly around the room to suggest thatthere were things hidden in the dark that she’d rather not see.Last night was uneasy for us both. I felt that withKatherine and me sleeping in the same house, an abduction waslikely. I purposely didn’t take my sleep medication because Iwanted to be alert enough to hear any audio signal. They’remuch fainter now, compared to those I first noticed in mid-January, although they’re instantly recognizable due to theirunusual sharpness and clarity. I think it’s because the soundoriginates deep within my own mind, instead of comingthrough my over-waxed ear canals.Without my sleeping pill, my normal anxiety acted tokeep me awake. We went to bed at 12:30 in the morning. Iremained alert while Katherine fell asleep. She kept tossingand turning, though, and twice suddenly sat straight up in bedto look around her. Both times I reassured her that everythingwas all right, and she lay back down again to instantly resumeher troubled sleep.I was fully alert until about 2:30 A.M. At that time, Isuddenly realized that I was fighting to stay awake. I sat on theedge of the bed for a while and then forced myself to get up andgo into the living room. I felt that “they” were there, lurking just around the corners. I should have had an anxiety attack atsuch a thought. Instead I was fighting hard to keep my eyesopen. My eyes would slowly close, and I would have to remind
47myself that I had to stay awake for Katherine’s sake. It wasthat thought alone that gave me the strength to open them justlong enough to look around the room again, but it was a losingbattle. I was falling asleep and nothing that I could do wasgoing to prevent it. I think it was after four o’clock when Ifinally went back to bed. I wanted at least to loseconsciousness while lying next to my daughter, instead of in achair in the next room.It was shortly after sunrise when I woke up. Katherinewas sleeping much more soundly at that point, so I got up andmade some coffee, letting her sleep the sleep of the dead untilshe finally got out of bed at about one in the afternoon.I asked her how she had slept, and if she had had anybad dreams, since she had tossed and turned so much. Shedidn’t remember any dreams, but admitted to not sleeping wellat night in general. She said that she is the most rested onweekends, when she can sleep as late as she likes. Her motherhas long complained to me that she sleeps so late on Saturdayand Sunday afternoons that she doesn’t play outside as much asshe should.I asked Katherine if she knew when her problem of notsleeping well at night began. She gave it a moment of carefulthought and said, “After I moved back to my room.” Aftersleeping with her mother for over a year, she told me last week that she had moved back into her room. Katherine’s sleeping
48problems go back several years, so I believe that she wasthinking of her most recent wave of nighttime anxiety attackswhen she answered my question.This afternoon, Katherine and I took a walk to a nearbypark. Along the way, we stopped at a driveway and silentlywatched a small whirlwind gather up oak leaves into a circularpile. We both stared hypnotically at the moving circle of leavesfor a good minute or so, and as we turned away to cross thestreet, Katherine said in a small voice, “Little people andinsects.” I could hardly believe my ears, because the visitorsare often described as “insects” or “insect-like.”“Did you say, ‘little people and insects’?” I asked.“Uh huh”“What about them?”“The leaves looked like little people and insects,” shereplied.Margaret has been complaining to me that Katherine isalready acting like a teenager, complete with periods of depression and outbursts of anger. She also suffers from thesame nighttime anxiety attacks and disrupted sleep patterns as Ido. As far as I know, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder isn’thereditary, but my little girl is displaying all the symptomsnonetheless.“Trolls . . . little people and insects.”
Tuesday, April 19
I lay down to take a nap this afternoon. After a while Iwas able to doze off, but I woke up fully alert when I heard thefaint, but very distinct, single ring of a telephone. It neversounds like my bedroom phone. The tone is always a littledifferent.I opened my eyes and took note of the time, 4:52 P.M. Iimmediately became very sleepy. I couldn’t keep my eyesopen, although I had been wide awake just a few momentsbefore. I barely had but a few seconds with which to notice thesudden change in my mental alertness before falling into a deepsleep. I awoke again at 6:13 P.M., feeling very refreshed.I almost hesitate to report this. Although I was tired andneeded a nap, when I laid down I was feeling rather sexy andfell asleep snuggling up to my pillows. They felt good againstmy skin and gave me a warm sensual feeling, letting me relaxinto sleep. Later as I was getting dressed, I noticed that mypenis was shrunken and shriveled. I touched myself and foundthat it was moist and smelled of semen, but I couldn’t find anyevidence of a “wet dream” in my bedding.I’ve heard that men who are abducted are often milkedof their sperm or given the chance to mate in the traditionalway. If I’m going to make it with someone, however, I’d liketo remember the experience!
Late Evening:
In his book,
, Strieber warns the “visited”against judging whether the phenomenon they’re experiencinghas existence in reality. For our own sanity, he encourages usto take the position of an agnostic. What? Just forget about itand go about my business?To believe that the phenomenon is completely in themind of the subject, one must come to the position that he orshe is in need of professional psychiatric help. I was concernedwith exactly that possibility earlier, and it was a very difficulttime for me.To believe that these experiences are grounded inphysical reality is to start an endless stream of speculation. Ialready find that I spend most of my time thinking about all thedifferent possibilities that this portends. As a result, I’ve beenall over the map emotionally, ranging from hopeful acceptanceto angry defiance.To believe, or not to believe (or to ignore what’shappening entirely) – that is the question. But how does oneignore something like this? I feel like I’ve opened a Pandora’sBox and, as much as I might like, I can’t put things back theway they were. The demons have already escaped. I’m sorryMr. Strieber, but I’ve gone through too much to pretend thatthis isn’t happening.
Wednesday, April 20
Margaret called to ask me for my mother’s phonenumber because she has mislaid her address book. She’smaintained a good relationship with her, even after ourseparation. I’m happy about that, for Katherine’s sake.Margaret knows of my ET visits. We had dinner at aloud Mexican restaurant a while ago and, after I had a couple of beers and she had a couple of margaritas, I mustered the nerveto tell her and she was relaxed enough to listen.At first she believed me, even expressing willingness atthe time to undergo hypnosis to see if it would reveal anything.But now she vacillates between thinking me eccentric at best,or mentally ill at worst. Her last stated position on the subjectwas, “I don’t want to believe it.” I can understand herdilemma. If Margaret accepts what is happening, then she mustalso accept her inability to do anything about it. At this point inour relationship she doesn’t really care that much about me, butwhen it comes to Katherine’s welfare she is like a lionessprotecting her cub. To believe that her daughter is beingkidnapped in the middle of the night and to know that she can’tprevent it is just too much for her to cope with. Denial can bean effective protection device.Our conversation turned to Katherine, the one subjectthat Margaret and I can agree on. It seems that Katherine had
52moved back to her room a few nights ago, but now wants tosleep with her mother again.I told Margaret about what Katherine had said regardingher sleep problems, and how they started up again after shetried sleeping in her own bed. I tried to tell Margaret that,although I had originally urged Katherine to try and move back into her own room, I now thought that we should support heremotionally and let her sleep wherever she wants.Margaret started to protest, saying that she didn’t think Katherine was being abducted. I reassured her that Iunderstood her skepticism and that I wasn’t trying to changeher mind about that. (We never did communicate too well.) Iwas only trying to say that I was no longer concerned about theappropriateness of Katherine sleeping with her mother.At that, Margaret relaxed a bit and told me that it hadbeen Katherine’s idea to try and sleep in her room again. Theyhad a little argument about something or other, and that hadgiven Katherine the motivation to try and be independent. Itdidn’t work. Now she’s back again sleeping with her mother,after only a few nights alone in her old bedroom.What has frightened Katherine so much as to send herrunning back to her mother’s bed, when she wanted so much tobe free and independent of her?
Friday, April 22
I saw my doctor again today, a follow-up to my annual
53physical exam of last month. I could see by the look on hisface and how it changed that it took him a few seconds toremember my unusual case. I told him that I had made anappointment with a hypnotherapist and that I knew I was goingto need some kind of help, one way or another, depending onthe outcome. If we can’t discover anything unusual then I’mgoing to need psychiatric help, I told him; and if I’m reallybeing abducted, then I’m going to need some special helpcoping with that. I think that made him feel better.As he started to wrap up the meeting, I asked if he hadconsulted with any of his colleagues about the scar on mygenitals. I had asked him to do this a month ago, but heevidently had forgotten. He then wrote a referral for me to aJewish urologist who has a lot of experience doingcircumcisions and should be able to offer a medical opinion asto whether or not my scar could be a result of that particularsurgical procedure.When I get the insurance paperwork in the mail, I’ll beable to call and make an appointment. I’m a little annoyed,though. I’ve wasted a whole month because my doctor didn’tthink to make this referral before.On a humorous note, I was sitting on the edge of mybed setting the alarm on my clock radio, when I heard a pair of electronic beeps. With heart pounding, I quickly took to mybedside pen and paper to document the incident. It was only
54after the beeps repeated themselves several times that I wasable to track them across the room, to my air purifier. Itappears that it’s time to change the filters.Tomorrow will be a full day at the Whole Life Expo, anannual festival of all the “weird stuff,” with lectures andworkshops on such topics as Astrology, Past Lives, CropCircles, UFOs and, of course, Alien Abductions. I want to tryand at least get some address or phone number, with which tocontact a support group. I expect that any such group willrequire something to attend their meetings, perhaps a referralfrom a licensed therapist, in order to separate the people whoreally need such support from those who fantasize that they do.At least I’ll have the information in hand when I’m ready toapply.
Saturday, April 23
I spent the day and evening with Leila at this year’sWhole Life Expo. Of course I was mainly interested inwhatever was being offered in the way of lectures or workshopson “Alien Abduction,” or “Close Encounters of the FourthKind” (CE-4), as those who take a more neutral view call it.There were two related events scheduled: a lecture by EdithFiore, and a screening of the movie
Fire in the Sky
hosted by
UFO support groups don’t ask for proof of anything. I just didn’t knowthat then.
55Travis Walton, the real-life abductee upon whose experiencethe movie was based.In addition to the lecture, Dr. Edith Fiore hosted aworkshop on her real specialty, “Past Lives.” The lecture onabductions was free with the price of admission, but theworkshop on Past Lives cost an additional fifteen dollars. If attendance is any indication, I bet that she’ll rethink herstrategy on that one. Even as her CE-4 lecture was ending,there was a steady stream of people still filing into the room.Dr. Fiore listed ten typical indicators of the CE-4phenomenon. They are as follows.1.
A “Missing Time” episode. The person remembersan incident where there was an apparent jump intime.2.
“Night Terrors.” The person might wake up in asweat at night or have nightmares about UFOs orAliens.3.
Sleep disorders, such as chronic insomnia. Theperson might not be able to sleep but a couple of hours at a time during the night, but can usuallysleep normally during the day.4.
Waking up to a “tingling” or “burning” feeling,paralysis or a feeling of pressure.5.
Unexplained physical marks on the body, such asbruises, scars, scabs or scrape marks.6.
Memories of seeing a UFO.7.
Fear or anxiety of UFOs or Extraterrestrials.8.
Memories of a close encounter with somethingstrange or unusual.
Unexplained or “spontaneous” healings.10.
Feelings of being watched or monitored, or thatthere was some kind of communication withsomething unknown.Also found associated with this experience are (1) apersonal sense of mission or a change in the consciousness orpersonality of those abducted, and (2) heightened psychicability after contact.Of the first ten indicators listed above, I personallyexhibit eight of them. Here is my list as it corresponds to Dr.Fiore’s numbers, omitting only numbers 6, memory of an actualsighting.1.
I’ve documented two possible “Missing Time”episodes in this journal. (Entries dated April 4
andApril 6
.) The first was of a memory of somethinghappening in Oklahoma at my grandparents’ homewhen I was a young boy, but there was an apparent“jump in time” from when I was trying to look outthe front window onto the driveway, to suddenlybeing in another room of the house. The second,much more recent, was when three hours passed thatseemed like a half hour at most.2.
I’ve described waking up in a panic, specifically onthe night of February 28
, although there have beenseveral such incidents since mid-January.3.
As for sleep disorders, I’m taking Halcion, aprescription sleep medication, to help with mynighttime insomnia, and I haven’t been able to sleepfor more than two or three hours in a row since thisall began.
Although I don’t remember waking up to anyunusual physical sensations, I described feelingpressure against my lower back while sitting on thecouch after my exercise injury. (Journal entry of February 21
I’ve documented two parallel scab lines at the baseof my neck that came and went at least three timesthat I can remember, along with a long scrape mark on my left shoulder. (Journal entries of February18
and March 22
.) And then, of course, there isthe scar in my penis.7. In the beginning, when I first became aware of allthis, there were times when I woke up with my heartracing. This was always accompanied by feelings of great anxiety. These nighttime anxiety attacks Ibelieve came right after an ET visit and have beenwell documented in this journal. I even wrote apoem about it. And then there is the general senseof anxiety I often feel, a nameless dread thatsometimes comes over me and follows methroughout the day.8.
I vaguely remember a Close Encounter of some sortat my grandparent’s house in Oklahoma when I wasa small boy. (Journal entry of April 4
I experienced a spontaneous healing on the eveningof February 21
, which I documented at the time.10.
I described how I must have been monitored thatnight, for the healing to have taken place so quicklyafter the injury. Also, on the night of April 16
 while Katherine lay sleeping, I definitely felt that Iwas being watched as I fought to stay awake.And then the two bonus points! (1) Arian, a friend of mine, made the remark one night that I don’t seem to be as judgmental as I used to be. I think she’s right. I’m much more
58tolerant of people’s mistakes. I feel like, “Who am I to judge?”Also, although I feel that I have always had a healthy respectfor animal life, now I could almost qualify as a Tibetan monk.There are spiders weaving their webs in the stairway leading tothe basement and in the corners of some of the rooms. Whereasbefore I wouldn’t have thought twice about cleaning them out,now I just can’t bring myself to do it. “Live and let live.” (I just started to cry as I wrote this. My feelings are so close tothe surface; and life, any life, seems so precious to me now.)And (2), I noticed today as I walked through the crowdat the Whole Life Expo that I was very “altered.” I had aheightened sense of psychic perception all day. I saw a womanwho made me do a double-take because she literally radiated awhite light. It was like looking directly into a light bulb. I hadto stop myself from staring, I was so surprised. As I walkedthrough the exhibits, I would feel the difference in the energylevels that they generated. It was particularly noticeable when Iwalked past an exhibit of crystals. Wham! It was as if I washit physically, the blast was so powerful. I’ve never beenreceptive to these kinds of invisible energies before, but today Iwas acutely aware of them.Eleven, out of a possible score of twelve! I think Ideserve at least an A- on Dr. Fiore’s CE-4 test.
Sunday, April 24
Reflecting upon my experiences of yesterday at the
59Whole Life Expo, I was struck by the types of people I sawattending the CE-4 related events. Most of the crowd lookedlike your average convention-going public, mainly concernedwith finding the right meeting room, getting good seats, lookingaround for friends, generally enjoying the experience.Then there were the ones who looked very serious, evenworried. They would walk into the room, totally absorbed intheir thoughts, usually led by a friend or companion. They took notes, hanging on every word, but they definitely were nothaving a good time. These people were obviously personallyinvolved in the CE-4 experience.There were also the “wannabes,” people who enjoy theidea of being among the abducted. There are so many peoplewho want to escape their “lives of quiet desperation,” asThoreau described it, that they easily enter into fantasy worlds.If they can as easily exit from those worlds, then their fantasiescan be beneficial. Even if they become obsessive about it, if their fantasies revolve around something obviously fictitious,like science fiction or mystery novels, then there is no harmdone. (Hey, I’m a
Star Trek 
fan myself.)However when the situation is a real mystery, like theUFO phenomenon, then the line between reality and fantasybecomes too thin for many people to distinguish. While theycan’t be a Luke Skywalker or Captain Kirk, they can fantasizeabout being one of the “in crowd” of people who have actually
60experienced a close encounter with a UFO or anExtraterrestrial. These people don’t know when they’re welloff, and should be careful of what they wish for.To the delight of the intelligence community, which hasworked long and hard to cover up anything having to do withUFOs, they only serve to muddy the waters. I’m sure that therewere many silent cameras clicking away yesterday during thetwo CE-4 related events. It goes with out saying that if thegovernment is interested in real UFO activity, then they are alsointerested in those people who have real contact with theiroccupants.Since the Roswell Incident in 1947, our government hasbeen willing to ruin the reputation of many professionalobservers such as airline pilots, police officers, etc., bycirculating false reports of their drunkenness or mentalinstability. It’s only prudent to assume that it’s ready to usesuch tactics to discredit abductees, as well.The stakes are even higher today, as more and morepeople are beginning to talk about their contact experiences.Governments around the world are doing everything possible toprevent human contact with Extraterrestrials. Such contactonly serves to undermine the Military-Industrial complex,which really runs this planet. Who will be willing to die forGod and country anymore when it becomes obvious that, not
61only are we not alone in the universe, but that the neighbors arehere, knocking at our door?
Late Evening:
 The sexual/genetic nature of this phenomenon maysuggest why the number of cases involving women over fifty isreported to be so much less than for women who are younger.And it seems that Alien Abductions are all but unknown forwomen over sixty. As a man, however, I have many moreyears of sperm production ahead of me. Therefore, I canprobably expect that my visits will continue for many years tocome.Arian suggested a vasectomy as a final answer to myproblem. If I no longer have what they want, then there wouldbe no need to come and take me in the night. I know that she’sright and, considering all the anxiety that this is causing me, itis probably not an unreasonable course of action to at leastconsider. But I must say that the idea of a vasectomy hasalways repelled me. I know that I don’t want to sire any morechildren. The future is going to get pretty unpleasant for mostof humanity, starting in Katherine’s lifetime. The GreenhouseEffect, toxic waste, the thinning of the ozone layer,overpopulation and diminishing natural resources will allcombine to lessen the expectations of every creature on Earth,except perhaps the cockroach.Maybe my manhood is so insecure that, subconsciously,
62a vasectomy seems like castration. Or, maybe subconsciously Iknow that a vasectomy will help to mess up some intergalacticgenetic experiment that has some profound importance for allthe races of beings involved, including us. Who knows? I justknow that I don’t want one.And of course it wouldn’t do anything to helpKatherine. I can’t ask her to have a hysterectomy as a cure forher night terrors. If I remain involved in this, however, there isalways the chance that I can help her in some way.
Monday, April 25
Included at the end of the book 
is astatement from Donald D. Klein, M.D., attesting that he hadexamined Whitley Strieber and found that he was not sufferingfrom a psychosis, or any other mental disorder, and thatStrieber had made an honest attempt while under hypnosis todescribe what he remembered. The statement ends with thisobservation, “He appears to me to have adapted very well tolife at a high level of uncertainty.” I wish I could.There is a short film titled
Powers of Ten
, which, inorder to show the power of geometric progression, starts with aclose-up of an object one meter square and then moves thecamera back in a series of photos, each of which is ten timesfurther away than the one before. It isn’t long before thecamera’s perspective is deep in space.By the time the camera zooms past the planets and
63leaves our solar system, the viewer begins to feel prettyinsignificant. The film then reverses the process and zoomsfrom outside our galaxy back through the solar system, tofinally come home again. When Earth comes back into view,viewers can feel a sense of relief at having found their wayhome from such a long and disorienting distance. I’ve beensnatched away from everyday reality so fast, and thedisorientation that I feel as a result is so profound, that I’m notsure that I can ever “find my way home again.” Is this whatthey mean by a “paradigm shift?”
 I’m hopeful that with hypnotherapy I will eventually beable to sleep comfortably again, even if these nighttime visitscontinue. It’s not the visits themselves that I dread. In fact Ioften physically feel much better afterwards. It’s theimplications of these visits that boggle my mind.I watched an episode of 
 In Search Of . . .
on televisiontoday. It was about Michael Rockefeller, the son of the formerGovernor of New York. He had been an amateuranthropologist and had been trying to document the culture of aStone Age tribe in New Guinea, when he died. This tribe wasalready losing faith in their old ways and customs. Their sense
Go to and click on thelink to the left of the screen, then register with your email address toview this classic nine-minute film. (I have to admit, though, I rememberit being much more impressive on the big screen.)
64of identity was evaporating fast, as they began to want moreand more of what western civilization has to offer.When a man finds out that in a larger universe he’sactually a mouse, what happens to his sense of identity?Eventually my body will become used to the research scientistplucking it from its cage to poke and probe. I’m uncertain,however, as to how to react to this new reality that treats mepersonally in such an impersonal manner.
Tuesday, April 26
This is strange. I want to get this down on paper whilethis is still fresh in my mind and before my sleeping medicationtakes affect. It’s 11:15 P.M. and my dear friend Dick Mayfieldis napping on my couch in the living room while I prepare forbed myself.I’ve known Dick for over twenty years. I rented a roomfrom him back in 1972 while I went to college on the G. I. Bill,and we’ve been good friends ever since. Dick has been in poorhealth for years. In 1980, his doctor told him that he had onlyabout six months to live, due to an enlarged heart. Although hehas outlived that doctor (and two others) his health still hasn’timproved fourteen years later.In addition to his heart problems, two years ago he wasdiagnosed with terminal prostate cancer. Again the medicalestablishment gave him but a few months to live. Dick declined any radiation treatments or chemotherapy, preferring
65to die if need be with dignity, rather than be slowly consumedby the very therapies meant to save his life. Shortly after Dick made that decision and was prepared emotionally to meet hisend, the tumor spontaneously arrested itself. It had all thedoctors scratching their heads.This afternoon I received a short phone call from Dick.With desperation in his voice, he asked me if he could spendthe night on my couch. Of course I said he could, and he saidthat he would come right over.As soon as I hung up the phone my mother called. (Shehas maintained her own close friendship with Dick over theyears, his age being much closer to hers than mine.) She askedif Dick had called me yet. He had evidently called her first.When I replied that he had, she explained that he was close tosuicide and that he needed to be with someone tonight. Motherlives with her boyfriend and Dick probably felt uncomfortableasking to stay with them. I assured Mother that I would takegood care of Dick and we ended our conversation.When Dick arrived he told me that, although he can’texplain why, he gets extremely anxious at night and sometimeshe just doesn’t want to be alone. I offered him my sofa bed, buthe said that he hasn’t slept lying down for more than six years,since his nighttime anxiety attacks first began. He preferred,instead, to sleep sitting up on the couch.Upon questioning he also revealed that he hasn’t had
66more than two or three hours of uninterrupted sleep for equallyas long. He can usually go back to sleep again, but hisnighttime rest is always disturbed. He admitted that hegenerally sleeps better during the day.It seems that he also suffers from recurring bouts of depression which, when it first develops, can be so strong as tobe paralyzing. The depression diminishes over time, butalways returns again with renewed intensity.These symptoms sound so familiar. Can it be that mygood friend is also an abductee? He suffers from “nightterrors,” has severe sleep disorders and has had a documentedmedical spontaneous healing. I wish I could question him moreclosely to see how many more of Edith Fiore’s CE-4 indicatorshe has experienced, but Dick is a very private person and Idon’t want to be too intrusive.Dick was quite concerned as he relayed all of this to meand seemed to be at his wit’s end. I reassured him that in fact Itoo suffer from the same sleep disorders. His eyes widened inamazement as I described my own patterns of depression,anxiety attacks and nighttime insomnia. When I had finished,he seemed relieved to find in my story confirmation of his ownunusual condition. I further explained that although oursymptoms are unusual, we are not alone in this; and that it hasbeen estimated that up to two percent of the general population
67suffer from the same disrupted sleep patterns and cycles of depression.
 It’s something of a shock to find that I have a closefriend who might be a fellow abductee. I wonder how many of my friends share these experiences. For those who are involvedin this phenomenon, do “birds of a feather flock together?” Idon’t know.
Thursday, May 12
I saw Dr. Irving Katz today. He’s an elderly Jewishurologist who has many years of experience performingcircumcisions. My primary doctor referred me to him in anattempt to determine if there might be a medical explanation forthe scar on the underside of my penis.He described it as an extension of the median raphe, thedividing line between the left and right halves of the scrotum.Although it is rare, he said that it sometimes extends from thescrotum sack up the underside of the penal shaft. It wouldseem that mine is particularly rare, in that the extension isirregular in width and color and is not in a straight line at all.Although Dr. Katz’s examination should put this part of 
In 1992 Robert Bigelow commissioned a survey by the RoperOrganization to determine how many people share the most commonindicators of Alien Abduction. The result suggested that 7 millionAmericans (2% of the population) might be involved in the phenomenon.Note: If you Google it, be sure to include the year. Roper did anothersmaller Internet survey in 1999, but the 1992 polling was done in “faceto face” interviews in almost 6,000 homes across the country.
68the mystery to rest, I’m not so sure. From the questions heasked (and didn’t ask) and the tone of his voice, I got theimpression that he might have consulted with my primarydoctor before meeting with me today. This is quite possible, astheir offices are in the same medical building, in fact right nextdoor to each other. That only dawned on me today, when Ishowed up for my appointment.If in fact my primary doctor did share what he had readin my journal with Dr. Katz, then Dr. Katz might have felt thathis first duty to me was to put my mind at rest concerning thescar on my penis. If his patient couldn’t remember having hadmajor surgery in that area of the body and believed himself tobe abducted by Aliens, even if it did look like a surgical scar, itwould be understandable that he would not want to add to myanxiety by admitting that he didn’t have any other explanation.From the moment he walked into the examining room, heseemed determined to put me at ease, acting as if my questionswere commonplace.The doctor seemed genuinely puzzled, however, whenhe examined me. It seemed to be a genuine mystery to him, as,one by one he had to discard possible explanations for what hesaw – first Peyronie’s Disease, then sebaceous cysts and finallypenile warts. After determining that I had none of these, hefinally settled on a rare variation of the median raphe, as theonly possible explanation.
69Maybe I’ll get another opinion sometime when I canafford to pay for the examination myself and not go through myhealth plan’s referral process. I’ll need to be more forthcomingabout my suspicions, though, if I’m ever to get a doctor toadmit that he doesn’t have an explanation.I have my first hypnotherapy appointment tomorrow.Even after waiting so long for this, I’m nervous as hell.
Friday, May 13
I was hypnotized for the first time in my life today.What an experience! When I arrived for my appointment withMr. Van Ault I was a little anxious, but he quickly put me atease. Although he is well over six feet tall, he projects a gentleand warm personality that communicates a genuine concern forhis clients.I had mailed him a copy of my journal so that he wouldbe well acquainted with my case when we met. I’ve found thatthis saves a lot of effort when I want to tell my story tosomeone for the first time. After introductions and a cup of hishot coffee, Mr. Ault suggested that we get down to business.I brought a blank cassette tape and tape recorder withme and asked him to document our session. After we set up theequipment and tested recording, I lay down on his “work bench,” a wooden construct which stands waist-high off thefloor. It was comfortable enough.
70Mr. Ault then asked me to stare up at the ceiling wherehe had taped a card just inside my field of vision. On the cardwas written the word “peace” and, after a minute or so of staring at it, my eyes were feeding little rivers of tears that randown the sides of my face to the back of my neck. Thistechnique evidently puts the subject into a low hypnotic state,making it that much easier for the hypnotherapist to deepen thetrance later.Mr. Ault took me through a relaxation exercise that leftmy arms and legs feeling as if they were made of lead. Mybody seemed much heavier than usual and I wondered if Iwould be able to move if I tried. But I didn’t try. I didn’t wantto do anything that might upset the process. My purpose was togo into as deep a trance as possible and I followed Mr. Ault’severy suggestion in that regard.He then asked me to visualize a door, beyond whichwas a special room where I would be safe and secure. Icouldn’t seem to picture a room. The only thing I was able to“see” beyond the door was the color blue. At any rate, this bluespace served as the place of safe refuge.An attempt to regress me to the night of April 15
 didn’t get very far. (That was the night Katherine stayedovernight with me, and I felt at the time that we had beentaken.) I started feeling anxious and couldn’t bring up anyimages from that evening. Mr. Ault then asked me to pick any
71other time I wanted to investigate and to go there instead. Ichose my grandparent’s home in Oklahoma when I was a boy.At first I had trouble picturing the interior of the house.I kept seeing the color blue. Slowly, after what seemed likeseveral minutes, I saw the “eyes.” Big black almond-shapedeyes would rise out of the blue and stare at me briefly, beforefading away.The blue color did disappear eventually to reveal theliving room in Oklahoma, where I had spent many of myhappier childhood moments. I was viewing the scene as if Iwas detached from it, looking from up high and over someone’sshoulder, when a group of little beings with big dark eyesswarmed through the front door and into the room. There weregrown-ups there, Happy, Billy and my mother, trying to standbetween them and me, but to no avail. Within a second or twowe were surrounded by these little people.The scene quickly faded to blue. After a while I couldsee the eyes again. Slowly, complete faces began to appear.Several of them were bent over, starring down at me. If I triedto stare back, to get a better look at the details of their features,the image would fade away again, leaving just the bluebackground color. However, I found that if I closed my eyestightly, the image would return and I could get another quick glimpse.
72When I looked up into their faces I began to getemotional. It felt as if they could look right through me. I felthelpless and began to cry.At this point Mr. Ault asked me if I had found out whatI wanted to know. I replied that I wasn’t sure, that I hadconscious memories of some sort of commotion at the frontdoor, and that the hypnotherapy had only given me glimpses of faces. At this point Mr. Ault ended the session and brought meup out of the trance.Although during much of the session I wondered if Iwas in fact hypnotized, the way I felt afterward left me nodoubt. As I opened my eyes and started to move, my body wasvery slow to respond. My mind felt “spaced-out,” like I was onsome kind of hallucinogenic drug. Even my visual sense wasdistorted. I felt detached from what I was seeing, as if I waslooking through the eyes of someone else or watching a movie.These effects soon dissipated, leaving me feeling fully restedand alert. Mr. Ault explained that this was the way peopletypically reported feeling after hypnosis.I asked if there were any way to tell if the images Ireported were in fact long-forgotten memories or the result of what I had read recently on the subject. In other words, wasthis real or just my imagination?He replied that in those cases of regressive hypnosiswhere the subject was reporting false memories, the images
73were almost never accompanied by any extreme emotion. Thefact that I had gotten agitated, and even started crying, was agood indication to him that something real was being re-experienced.Now that I’ve confirmed this is actually happening I canstill scarcely believe it. It seems too fantastic to be true. I’veknown deep in my gut that it was true, but there is still a part of me that is going to have trouble believing it. Wow!I have another session with Mr. Ault scheduled for nextFriday.
Monday, May 16
This afternoon I visited Katherine after school. I’m ableto do this on weekdays because I’m currently unemployed.Until recently I’ve spent Wednesday and Thursday afternoonswith her, but that was when she had softball practice. Now thatthe season’s schedule has begun, I’m trying to time my visits tocoincide with her games, one of which was today.I arrived an hour earlier than Katherine had evidentlyexpected. She had gone to a friend’s house after school, so Ihad some time to spend with Dorothy before Katherine camehome.As I mentioned earlier in this journal, Dorothy is afourteen-year-old girl who lives with Margaret, Katherine andher mother, Maria. Maria has been Katherine’s live-in nannysince Katie was a year old. After that first year with us, we let
74Maria send for her two children, Dorothy and Oscar, both of whom had been living with their aunt in Southern California.Margaret and I immediately accepted them as family, andKatherine was thrilled to have an older “brother” and “sister.”After discussing school, rap groups and other teenagesubjects, our conversation turned to the sleeping arrangementsin that household. Margaret has promised Dorothy that she willconvert her office into a bedroom for her. Dorothy wanted toknow if I believed that it would really happen. I reassured herthat it would and used the opportunity to ask her aboutsomething that has puzzled me for some time.About a year and a half ago Dorothy and Katherineshared the same bedroom until, for some reason, they bothabruptly refused to sleep there any longer. Katherine said thatshe was afraid of “monsters and bad men.” Dorothy never didsay why she abandoned that room. She could have had it all toherself, as she now hopes to have Margaret’s office, but shepreferred instead to go back and sleep with her mother in herroom. That wasn’t natural behavior for a teenager so I askedher about it.At first she was hesitant to say anything. I told her thatI thought I knew why, but just wanted her to confirm mysuspicions.“Is it because you were afraid of that room for somereason,” I asked, “or is it because you just didn’t want to sleep
75with Katherine anymore?”“No! I love Katie,” she insisted.“Well then, why?” I asked again. “Is it because you’reafraid of that room?”She nodded and, after a long silence said, “I had adream where I heard someone screaming, but I don’t think itwas a dream. I think it was real.” She looked at me like sheknew that what she had just said didn’t make sense.I reassured her that it indeed made perfect sense and thatI fully understood her anxiety. I asked if she had ever felt likethat about any other room in the house. Did she ever feel afraidto sleep in her mother’s room, for example? She answered“no” to both questions and begged me to tell her what I knew.I told her that I really couldn’t go into details, but that itwasn’t likely to happen again. Although she would have likeda better answer, she sensed that she wouldn’t get one and let thematter drop. I had that same “dream” years ago, and now Ifind that Dorothy has had it, too. Another piece of the puzzlehas been added and, although the picture that is forming is theone that I expected, it is unnerving nonetheless.
Tuesday, May 17
This evening I had another nosebleed. I just blew mynose into a tissue and the blood began to flow from the leftnostril. A susceptibility to nosebleeds is often reported by the“visited.”
76It is thought that nosebleeds of this kind are caused bythe body reacting to nasal implants inserted by the visitors.Some speculate that they are inserted to stimulate the temporallobe of the brain, where all the higher emotions of humankindare located, such as feelings of love and compassion and ourconcepts of truth and justice.Looking back on it, I’ve had a problem with nosebleedsoff and on for most of my life. Once, when I was five or six, Ihad a particularly bad one when my grandparents and I were onvacation. We were driving over a mountain range when itbegan, and because of the high elevation it just wouldn’t stop.Happy held my head in the back seat of the car and soaked upthe blood with a towel, and Billy had to stop by the side of theroad several times to let her ring it out.I remember her shouting at Billy to get us off themountain before I bled to death. I especially remember thepanic in her voice. She had always remained cool, and evencalculating, in an emergency; so to see her panic in thissituation was disturbing. It was a frantic ride down off thatmountain.The bleeding stopped when we finally did get down to alower elevation. I’ve read that in some cases the nosebleeds of abductees was so bad that to stop it, the nostril had to bemedically cauterized.Another lifelong pattern that fits the profile.
Friday, May 20
I had my second hypnotherapy session with Mr. Aulttoday. Although he took me into a deeper trance, this timewasn’t as productive as the last. We couldn’t even repeat whatwe had done before. Maybe I’m expecting too much, too soon.After we got started, a close-up of a dark almond-shaped eye formed against that familiar blue background, but itquickly faded away. It took a minute or so before I could bringit back, but I found that if I shifted my attention down from theeye I could see more of the face in my peripheral vision. Itcame and went several times before I was able to see thecomplete face, almost triangular in shape, with but a hint of anose or mouth. The skin had a brownish-gray color to it and Ihad the impression that these beings were very old. Howeverthese images would quickly disappear. None of them wouldstay for more than a second or two before fading into the bluebackground. Later in the session I felt that I was lying downand looking up at a large circular light that illuminated the area,but that was as far as we got.This blue thing has Mr. Ault puzzled. I’m beginning tobelieve that it’s a mental block, placed in my mind to preventme from remembering what the ETs want to keep secret.I did get something out of today’s session, though. Mr.Ault gave me a post-hypnotic suggestion to help me sleepwithout medication. All I have to do is lie in bed and count
78backwards from one hundred. I can’t wait to give it a try. Itwill be nice not to have to rely on pills to sleep.
Saturday, May 21
I got to bed at about one in the morning and tried thepost-hypnotic suggestion that Mr. Ault gave me yesterday tohelp me sleep. As I counted backward from a hundred, I couldfeel my body sink like a stone, but I don’t remember sleeping.In fact I remember seeing the clock every forty-five minutes orso, as I turned over in bed.At 3:36 A.M., I felt a definite pressure against my lowerback at the tailbone for a prolonged period of time, perhaps afull minute or so. This was much like what I felt during myspontaneous healing, but of a much longer duration. I took noteagain of the time, 4:15 A.M., when I got up a little while ago,and was surprised to find that I was very much awake, in spiteof having so little sleep. I have the feeling that “they” havebeen here.
5:00 P.M.:
I haven’t shaved today. I usually don’t bother onweekends unless I go somewhere, but all day long my face hasbeen hurting. I finally looked into the bathroom mirror. I havea sunburn!I haven’t been outside of the house today and I waseither in my car or inside a building all day yesterday. I alsoinspect myself in the bathroom mirror each night before
79retiring. There is no possible way that I could have gone to bedlast night with my face badly sunburned, yet my face is veryred. How does one get a sunburn indoors at night?
Sunday, May 22
Dick Mayfield, my good friend of more than twentyyears, has moved into a hospice where he expects to die fromhis prostate cancer that has now flared up again. He confidedin me that he wants his life to end now. He’s tired of the dailystruggle to keep his body functioning and of the “night terrors”which prevent him from getting any real rest. That’s why hiscancer has started growing again. He’s ready to die.I’ll be taking his apartment. It’s pretty big for a studioand the price is quite reasonable. I need to move soon anyway,although I do wish it were under different circumstances.
Monday, May 23
Last night I heard the familiar ring of a telephone. Theclock on my bedside table read 4:45 A.M. The ring was sharpand clear, even if it was faint. I happened to be lying in bed atthe time, having just woken up, or I might not have heard it atall. I think these audio signals come in pairs, the first to mark the beginning of an abduction event, and the second to mark itsend. It could be that I had just been put back in bed and that’swhy I woke up in time to hear the “second” ring.Even with my post-hypnotic suggestion, I wake up
80every two hours or so. After I heard the ring, I was able tosleep deeply for about another hour, before getting up for good.
To discover that I’m a guinea pig in some grand galacticexperiment is unsettling, to say the least. To realize that it alsoinvolves my daughter triggers all my parental instincts toprotect and defend her; and the frustration that I feel, when Irealize that my effects in that regard are futile, is sometimes toomuch to bear. They will come for either of us, when and whereat their choosing, and I can only hope that it is all for a goodcause.While it may be impossible to speculate as to thereasoning of Alien minds, if we reflect on what little we know,we may find evidence to suggest that their motivations arebenevolent, or at least not hostile.One of the common elements in abduction cases is thenasal implants. I understand that several have actually beenrecovered from the nasal cavities of contactees. These implantsare suspected of stimulating the temporal lobe of the brain,which is the seat of all the higher emotions of man, such astolerance, love, compassion and justice. Is the human racebeing civilized? God knows we need it. There is no moredangerous animal on the face of this planet than Man. I knowthat feelings of kindness don’t necessarily have to be inspiredby Aliens, but there is a pattern of personality changes among
81the abducted that reflects a growing concern for life in all itsforms.I can sense that my own feelings of love andcompassion are growing stronger with each visit. I will notconsciously kill another living creature, if I can help it. This iskind of a spiritual pledge that I have taken. If I find a spider inthe bathtub, I’ll transfer it outside before taking my shower.Even the houseflies that occasionally find their way inside aresafe with me.I can also see that same pattern of concern for others inKatherine. I remember an incident when she was three or four,and her mother was going to squash some bug that had invadedthe house. Katherine started crying and begged her not to “killnature.”She recently started taking food (sandwiches, sodas,etc.) to school to leave in the wooded area behind theplayground. She had seen a sleeping bag hidden in the bushesand suspects that a homeless person is in need. I’m so proud of her! But I did caution her not to go up there unless she hassome of her friends with her.A national survey, conducted by a reputable firm,suggested that up to two percent of the American populationmay have undergone the abduction experience. Although theBetty and Barney Hill case of the early 1960s, popularized bythe best-selling book 
The Interrupted 
, was the first
82abduction case to come to the attention of the American public,there is evidence that widespread abductions in the US werehappening throughout the fifties. My own encounter when Iwas a young boy at my grandparents’ home in Oklahoma wasaround 1954 or so. I believe that if we look back we’ll find itwas the “Baby Boomers” who were in fact the first generationof humans to be contacted in large numbers.The 60s were the coming of age for my generation andour accomplishments are almost legendary, notwithstanding theefforts of some to rewrite history. For the first time, youngpeople stood up and put an end to a war that their elders hadbeen determined to wage. We went to the streets, defying ourown parents and teachers, demonstrated, conducted teach-insand pushed the establishment powers until they had to comply.We rode the “freedom buses” into the Deep South,turning the media spotlight on racism and ended Apartheid inAmerica. We started the modern feminist movement anddemanded a simple justice, “equal pay for equal work.” Thisled to the Gay Pride Movement and to a broader call for“human” rights in general. .For the first time in human history the idea of havingrights by the mere fact of being human (referred to in thePreamble to our Constitution as “inalienable rights”) wasbrought into “smoke-filled backrooms” of international power-politics when it was actually made a part of US foreign policy
83under the Carter administration. To me this marks one of thefew times that we have grown ethically as a species. We cannumber the milestones of our technological development in thethousands, but there are so few to mark our developmentspiritually. Now, because of Carter, the heads of state on thisplanet have to at least pretend publicly to adhere to a set of “universal” rights.No other generation in history has sparked as muchsocial change as us Baby Boomers. We were motivated bycompassion for our fellow human beings and a sincere belief that real justice had to include everyone. Could it be that allthis was the result of Alien Abductions and nasal implants? Astretch maybe, but if it is true then perhaps the trauma thatcomes with these encounters really is a reasonable price to pay.
Tuesday, June 7
I’ve evidently had a second spontaneous healing acouple of nights ago. For the past few months I’ve had a badcase of tendonitis in the middle finger of my left hand, with thepain most acute in the morning after waking up from hours of inactivity. As the day would wear on the pain would lessensomewhat, but never to any great extent.A few days ago I was just sick and tired of the constantpain and, remembering the “exercise” healing of February 21
,I wished out loud that “they” would repeat their medical
84miracle. In fact, I demanded it. “You owe me!” I told them.Apparently they heard and responded.For the past two days I’ve had no pain in that finger andcan use it as if nothing was ever wrong, although it now bendswith a snap as if it’s “double-jointed.” It appears they had toshorten the tendon in that area. Those little guys can actuallybe useful!They were here last night as well. I just discovered thatone of the scabs at the base of my neck has returned, althoughthis time it’s about two inches below where the previous scabshad formed. I give myself a thorough inspection every nightand it wasn’t there when I went to bed.The lump that I’ve had at the base of my neck since atleast mid-January has disappeared as well. Both sides of myspine in that area are now symmetrical. Was that an implant,which they have now removed for some reason? Were thescabs, which formed off and on in that area, incisions in theskin to service the implant? I don’t know, and I don’t know if Iever will know. That’s one of the frustrating things about all of this. Will I ever find out what’s happening?
Friday, June 10
I used the post-hypnotic suggestion to fall asleep at 1:30in the morning, but was wide awake at 5:00 A.M. and got up togo to the bathroom. I stayed awake, had breakfast and went
85back to bed at nine o’clock, but was woken up at 11:05 a phone call from my friend Robert Akins.I had to cut the conversation short because I felt verystrange, as if I was in some kind of trance. My body was veryheavy and my mind wouldn’t focus. I could hear Bob’s voicecoming out of the receiver, but I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. I went right back to sleep and finally feltphysically able to get out of bed at 1:00 P.M.I dreamt a lot those last couple of hours. In one dream Iremember speculating if a woman I was with was also anabductee. I can’t remember any other details, though.
Late Evening:
Tonight I rented and watched the movie
.Abduction researchers Dr. John Mack and Budd Hopkins werelisted in the credits as advisors to the film, so I assume that themovie was accurate in its significant details.The script dealt at some length with the subject of missing fetuses. There have evidently been a number of caseswhere pregnant women have lost their unborn children. Theyweren’t aborted. They just disappeared. These pregnancieswere supposedly verified by ultra-sound or other techniques.According to Budd Hopkins, one such case involved apregnancy in its seventh month.As part of the sexual-genetic nature of AlienAbductions, women are often harvested of their eggs and men
86are milked of their semen. I had an experience where I felt thatI had been “relieved” of my seed. It seems that my case is notunique, but instead appears to be rather typical.While watching the film I began to think how I mightactually be the father of some half-breed Alien childrensomewhere. The idea struck a chord somewhere deep inside of me. Although I couldn’t have the same kind of parentalattachment as a mother does, who physically bonds with thenew life inside of her, I do feel some deep emotions at thethought of fatherhood. I only have to think of Katherine toremind myself of that.Will my Alien children ever ask who their father is?What will they be told that he’s a laboratory monkey on somebackwater planet somewhere? What kind of future lies in storefor such children, my children? Like any parent I find myself wanting the best for my progeny, human or hybrid.Just speculating, but can a bond of love be forgedbetween two Alien races? If such a thing is possible, it has tostart with the most fundamental kind. The love people have fortheir children is the most basic kind of love there is. It doesn’trely on ethnocentric concepts such as physical beauty orcommon interests to sustain itself. It just is. Perhaps onlyparental love can transcend the enormous gulf between peoplesborn on different planets. Just a thought.
Saturday, June 11
I saw them! Last night I saw them come into my room.This is incredible! I want to describe everything exactly as ithappened.I lay in my bed wide awake and lost in my thoughts,looking out the window of my studio apartment to thewhitewashed building next door, illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. The last time I looked at my clock radio, it was 3:30A.M. About ten minutes later, I noticed something in front of my window.The image appeared at first as a slight darkening orshadow, and was transparent in that I could see through it andthrough my window to the building outside. All I could makeout was a vague outline of something, but it seemed to slowlybecome more solid and take on recognizable features. I had thefeeling that there was another “something” forming to the right,at the very edge of my peripheral vision, but I purposely keptall my attention riveted on the image in front of me.I strained to focus my eyes more clearly because Iwasn’t sure at first if it was real or just a trick of light andshadow. As it began to slowly take form, I could see that it wasabout three and a half to four feet tall, with a big head and twohuge, very black eyes.“Is this what I think it is?” I thought to myself. I slowlyclosed my eyes, counted to five and opened them again. It was
88still there, more sharply defined than even a few secondsbefore, and looking straight at me.My heart leaped into my throat and raced wildly. I triedto spring from my bed, but only got as far as getting up onto myright elbow before I became totally paralyzed. I tried again tolunge forward without success, frozen to the spot. After thesecond attempt failed, I felt my eyes close as I started to rapidlylose consciousness. It felt like I was falling down into a black hole, but at the last moment I summoned all my strength of willand screamed in my head, “No, God damn it!” That burst of defiance somehow released me from my invisible restraints andI opened my eyes. They were gone. The clock read 3:43 A.M.Even I would doubt what my own eyes have seen, if itweren’t for the physical sensations that I experienced. Now Iknow that a person can become agitated thinking that he hadseen something that really wasn’t there, but to suddenlybecome paralyzed and to start to “fall asleep” in the middle of apanic attack, is highly unlikely to say the least. I did see them!They started to materialize, literally forming out of thinair, but had to abort their mission. This shows me that theyaren’t infallible. They can make mistakes. I had been lyingquite still for twenty minutes or so and was staring out thewindow, lost in thought, before they started to form in front of me. They must have thought that I was asleep.They say, “Seeing is believing.” For the past several
89months I’ve felt that these visits are real events, and not just thecreation of an overactive imagination (or worse, the delusionsof someone with mental problems). But now that I’ve actuallyseen them, I’m stunned. I’ve been given the best conformationthat I could have ever hoped for. I actually saw them! MyGod, this is incredible.
Wednesday, June 22
It’s 6:30 in the morning. I got to sleep late again lastnight, starting Mr. Alt’s post-hypnotic suggestion at 3:08 counting backwards from one hundred. I shouldn’t even beawake now, with only a little more than three hours sleep, but Ihad a strange dream that I think might be linked to the visitors.It went as follows.There is a big party at my house, which I seem to sharewith a number of other people. We live in an old woodenmulti-story home that is badly run down and in need of repair.There are tall weeds in the back yard and it’s obvious that noone has paid any attention to the property for some time.The party is getting pretty bawdy, with plenty of illicitdrugs and sex, and there is an underlying feeling that thingscould get out of hand. I find myself on the rooftop and amdistressed to see many of the partygoers standing at the edge,taunting the police below. Finally the police come roaring upin their squad cars and arrest everyone.But the scene shifts a little and the police are now
90Japanese solders, and we are being rounded up after having justsurrendered to the enemy in World War II. As we are ledaway, I hear the Japanese commander tell his men to be gentlewith us because we’re sick and injured. As he says this, Irealize that the room we’re in is an army field hospital of somekind.Here the dream shifts again and it’s now sometime afterthe war. I’m a tourist in modern-day Japan and an old Japaneseman is showing me a movie. It’s a scratchy, black and whitewartime propaganda film in Japanese. To loud martial music, alarge hovercraft speeds up a wide river with long towlinestrailing behind. Attached to the lines are two Americanprisoners of war bouncing around in the turbulent wake of theboat.The scene repulses me and the old man apologizes forthe war crimes of the past. He then shows me a wooden door.I instinctively know that it opens onto a private pathway thatleads to secluded personal living quarters. The old man thenoffers to inscribe my name on the door, if I would but choose tocome and live in Japan.If put in context of the visitor experience, I think thesymbolism of the dream is clear. The dilapidated woodenhouse is Planet Earth and the revelers are the human race.When the party gets out of hand and is raided by the police,they turn out to be Japanese. I think the reference to the Alien
91visitors here is obvious. In our western culture, Asians are littlepeople with exotic-looking eyes. The solders are told to becompassionate with their prisoners. Somehow, our rowdybehavior is not entirely our fault because we’re “sick andinjured.”After he shows me a film where two Americans aretortured on the water, the old man apologizes for his country’swartime treatment of enemy prisoners. Sigmund Freud saidthat water is often used by the subconscious as a symbol relatedto matters of a sexual nature. While I have come to believe thatthe visitors’ overall motives might be benevolent, I have beendisturbed by the idea that they have violated me sexually. Thescar on my penis suggests a less than pleasant experience inthat regard. I also have concerns about Katherine and how sheis being treated.After the old man apologized, he invited me to stay inhis country, with the implication that if I do, I’ll be treated withrespect. The apology I understand; and if it is genuine I acceptit. But have I really been invited to leave Earth to go and livewith the little people in “Japan,” wherever that may be? Anintriguing prospect, to say the least . . . but talk about cultureshock!
Late Evening:
I spent the evening with Katherine tonight and we talked aboutdreams. She described a couple of dreams that she
92had, which she said were “so real” to her.The first one she said she has had at least twice. In it,she sees her bedroom (the one she never sleeps in) with“spikes” (her word) coming out of the walls and up through thefloor. I walk into the room and the spikes disappear. When Ileave, they return.The other dream, which she said she had a month or twoago, starts out with one of her favorite TV characters from theshow
Get Smart 
. Maxwell Smart is stabbed in the stomachwith a spike. Here the dream suddenly changes and Katherinefinds that it is she who has been stabbed with the spike.Katherine said that when she woke up from this dream she hada bad stomach ache.I’ve held one thought close to me all these months, asI’ve tried to regain my emotional balance in the wake of allthis. I don’t much care what happens to me. I’m pretty good atadjusting to unexpected situations. It’s my daughter whom I’vealways been concerned about. I’ve hoped that as long as I’m apart of whatever this is, then perhaps I could help Katherine insome way. I remember even mentally asking them one time totake me first, whenever they go for Katherine. My hope wasthat it would make it easier for her when they did. If the firstdream is related to her abductions, as I believe it to be, then itmay indicate that I was somewhat successful in that regard.Whatever the symbolism means, spikes coming out of the walls
93and up through the floor can’t be good. However, they goaway when I enter the room. Children trust in the ability of their parents to protect them, whether or not they really can. Imay not be able to stop what they’re doing to either of us, but if my presence can help make it better for Katherine then I’mwilling to endure whatever they want to do to me, as long asthey take us together.As for the second dream, I’ve heard of the Graysinserting needles into the abdomen of the women they take,supposedly as part of a pregnancy test, as they evidently didwith Betty Hill. But Katherine is obviously not of childbearingage. Could they be collecting some of her immature eggs forsome reason?
Tuesday, July 26
I lay down to take a nap late this afternoon, but woke upin a panic after a horrible dream.In the dream, I was with my brother Frank. We weresitting in an old vintage car, parked at the curb. He was in thedriver’s seat and I was in the back, on the passenger side. It feltas if we were traveling on vacation because the back seat wascrammed with bedding and suitcases, which left little room forme to move.I was looking around for my marijuana stash, so I couldprepare something for us to smoke, when I spied someone inthe side mirror walking up beside the car. I quickly pushed a
94pillow down over the contraband just before a group of four orfive men, all dressed in old-fashioned double-breasted stylesuits, pulled Frank from the car and began to beat himunmercifully. I could hear his screams as the blows hit. It washorrible.They pulled guns from their jackets and looked like theywere about to shoot Frank, when they suddenly looked up tothe sky and saw something that obviously scared them.Although I couldn’t see it, I thought that maybe it was a policehelicopter, because they started to run away. But whatever itwas, they quickly decided that it was no threat to them. Theyreturned to where Frank laid groaning on the sidewalk,carefully aimed their guns and shot him dead.I woke up at that point, badly shaken. The whole thinghappened so quickly and was so violent and unexpected that Ihave a hard time knowing what to make of it. It might be somekind of premonition and I’m tempted to call my brother. Butwhat am I going to tell him – to stay out of old cars and bewareof gangsters?
Wednesday, July 27
I kept thinking yesterday about the dream I had andfinally gave Frank a call earlier this morning. I was able to gethim before he had left for his law office.I suspect Frank has always thought me to be a biteccentric, but because we’ve been pretty close throughout the
95years he listened patiently as I described my dream. I askedhim to please be careful with any cases that might bring himinto contact with gangster types and he promised me that hewould, although I could tell by the tone in his voice that hedoesn’t take this as seriously as I do.I do hope he’s careful. This wasn’t just another dream.I’m sure that it meant something. And the dreams have beencoming hot and heavy lately, too. I had another one last night,and I think that this one might be a disguise for something thatreally happened.I entered a room filled with paintings on the walls.There were a few other people milling about and it seemed thatI was at an art exhibit of some kind. The artist was there. Shewas an attractive woman with an hourglass figure who seemedto take an immediate interest in me. She showed me aroundand asked me if I liked her artwork. It all seemed to have aSword and Sorcery theme. I politely complemented her,although I remember thinking that that type of thing didn’treally interest me much.The other people in the room walked out and we wereleft alone together. She started to come on to me and began toget aggressive, taking me into her arms and French-kissing me.I liked the attention and the obvious suggestion of impendingsex, but I didn’t like, nor have I ever really enjoyed, thesensation of someone’s tongue in my mouth. I wanted to let
96her know of my discomfort without destroying my chances of making it with her, so I decided to make light of it all by tryingto uphold the conversation while she continued to try andFrench-kiss me.She tried several times to stick her tongue into mymouth while I tried to talk through it all. On her last try Isuddenly felt immobilized. She then came down on my mouthfrom above and stuck her tongue deep into my throat. Iremember being surprised by this maneuver because, to be ableto place her head above mine, she had either to be standing onsomething or to have suddenly grown much taller. No one hasever French-kissed me so deeply, and I don’t think any normalperson could. Her tongue literally felt as if it went halfwaydown my throat. It was at this point that the dream ended.I can see in the mirror that my throat is red today,although it doesn’t hurt. It feels like something is caught deepdown inside, and I’ve been trying to clear it all morning.If they wanted a throat culture, what an interesting wayto go about getting it.
Friday, July 29
I went to bed at about 2:30 A.M., drunk and depressed.After training, without pay, for the last five weeks as a pokerdealer for a local gambling establishment, I found out yesterdaythat the job offer has suddenly evaporated. No explanations.
97They’re just not hiring. I could have a job by now if I had beenlooking for one all this time.I don’t take to alcohol very well. After the pleasanteffects wear off, I always pay for it with a bad hangover. I geta good buzz with one beer, become drunk with two and findmyself under the table after four or five, but I wanted to get asnumb as quickly as possible last night so I threw caution to thewind and raced through a six-pack.I woke up about 4:30 this morning with a bad case of nausea, a common consequence of this particular manifestationof my stupidity and one that I had expected. After a fewminutes I felt that familiar pressure at the base of my spine andthe nausea suddenly faded away. I felt very sleepy rightafterwards and, although I wanted to stay awake to note anyfurther effects, I couldn’t and quickly fell asleep again.Although I’ve been unemployed now for quite sometime, and have just lost my best opportunity to change thatsituation, I awoke this morning feeling rested and strangelyconfident about the future. Usually when I’m as depressed as Iwas, it takes several days for me to pull out of it. I think mylittle friends came last night. If so, then this is the third timethat they’ve helped me when they didn’t have to, and it makesme think that they might really be concerned about me as aperson. I’ve often wondered if their interventions weren’t moreabout keeping the lab rat healthy enough to run the maze, but
98this time they helped me emotionally, not just physically, whenthey eased my depression in addition to my nausea. Theydidn’t have to. They felt bad that I felt bad. That’s calledcompassion.
Friday, August 5
For the past couple of days I have been suffering the fullrange of symptoms indicative of Post-Traumatic StressDisorder. I’m waking up with projectile vomiting. I havefacial ticks and find myself acting compulsively. The oldcycles of anxiety and depression have returned.But why? I had been free of them or several monthsnow. I credited my recovery to a combination of goodhypnotherapy and my having accepted the reality of my doublelife. I have even come to regard the visitors as my friends. Sowhy am I now suddenly back at square one?Also, I’ve been having nosebleeds for the past two days.Oh yes, I also “heard” a voice speak into my left ear as I lay inmy bed this morning at about 7:30. It was a male voice andspoke only one word, which I couldn’t understand. The voicewas loud and clear and sounded like it had an accent of somekind, perhaps Slovak or East European. Although it soundedlike it came from my left side, I really think it originated withinmy own head rather than from some external source.This is the first voice that I’ve heard. All the othersounds have been mechanical in nature, a buzzer, a bell or a
99telephone ring. If this is a communication of some kind, whyspeak to me in a language that I don’t understand, and then onlysay one word?
Sunday, August 7
Katherine stayed with me overnight and put up quite afuss at having to go to bed at midnight. She kept asking, finallypleading, to stay up longer. Later as we lay in bed talking, sheadmitted to being afraid to go to sleep at night. She went on tosay that she is also afraid when everyone else in the house isasleep and she is the only one left awake. Poor girl, damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t.Later in the afternoon, Katherine had a bad spontaneousnosebleed. She was watching television when all of a suddenthe blood started flowing. It was all over one of the pillowsbefore I was able to get to a box of tissues.
Wednesday, August 17
“I’m metamorphosing.” I wrote those words down on apiece of paper early this morning after I woke up feeling verydisoriented. Everything looked distorted to me and I couldbarely scribble those words on my notepad. Nevertheless, Iremember thinking that I wanted to document the feeling thatI’m somehow being changed physically.After I wrote those words, I collapsed into bed anddropped off into a deep sleep. Now, in the light of day, I
100almost want to deny that I wrote them, they seem so absurd.But feeling as altered as I did, they made perfect sense at thetime.I’ll defer judgment on this, and just consider this journalentry as part of my efforts to be as thorough as possible whendescribing my experiences.
Thursday, August 18
I had dinner with the Weiss side of the family last night.Dad, his wife, Lucille, sister Harriet and brother Frank were inattendance. The after-dinner conversation turned to Frank’slaw practice. Frank described one of his current cases, in whichhe’s in the process of forcing the sale of a warehouse owned bya man known to be a gunrunner and drug smuggler. Thebuilding is to be sold and the money used to pay a debt the manowes to one of Frank’s clients.I immediately thought of my dream where Frank isdragged out of a car, badly beaten and finally shot to death bygangsters. There was a feeling in the dream that it hadsomething to do with contraband of some kind. I had been soupset at the time and fearful that the dream might prove to beprophetic, that I phoned Frank the next day and warned him tostay away from any gangster types. Now he’s telling me thathe’s tightening the legal screws on just such a gangster, byforcing the sale of the very building he probably uses to storehis guns and drugs! For God’s sake, Frank, be careful.
Friday, August 19
Frank came by for a couple of hours to see my newapartment. I reiterated my concern about his legal sparringwith gangster types, especially if it might upset them enough toconsider murder as a way to get rid of a persistent irritant.(And Frank can be very persistent. He was called “mad dog”by the partners at his old law firm because of histenaciousness.)I also let him read a little of this journal. At least he’sopen-minded enough to consider the possibility that I might notbe crazy. He even described what sounded like a closeencounter of his own, which took place over twenty years agoon a vacation drive through the Southwest with his mother andsiblings.
Monday, August 22
Another spontaneous nosebleed this morning withbreakfast. As I sat drinking my coffee, I blew my nose into atissue and the blood started to flow.
Thursday, September 15
For the past few nights I’ve sat in my studio apartment
It was just before sunrise in the ambient light of early morning as thefamily was driving down the highway when Frank suddenly noticed thata circular object was covering about a third of the sky. No one else saidthey saw anything unusual at the time and he doesn’t remember anythingmore about the incident. Someone suggested that he might have seen theplanet Venus, but as Frank said, “Venus doesn’t cover a third of the sky.”
102and agonized over the big question. Just what do my nocturnalvisitors want of me? This morning they responded.Between 6:00 and 7:30 this morning, I had a verydisturbing dream about the Grays, as the little people are called.I had gotten up briefly to visit the bathroom before returning tobed to catch what I had hoped would be a couple of hours of restful sleep before I had to get up. Not so.The dream took place in a large house with manyrooms, and I was evidently living there. From the start thedream had a disturbing quality about it. I felt uneasy andapprehensive. I had some kind of disagreement with mymother and stormed out of the room. I ventured into otherareas of the house where I found various pockets of activity.Evidently a party of some kind was in progress and there weremany people milling about. It was a peaceful gathering, unlikemy dream of June 22
.As I walked through the house, I found myself nakedand felt chilled because of it. Although I felt self-conscious,my lack of clothing didn’t seem to bring any notice from thosepresent. After a while, I looked down and saw that I waswearing a pair of gray-colored slacks. I felt great relief atseeing that I was clothed, but soon afterwards, I found myself naked again. I had the distinct impression in the dream that mynakedness (and hence my sense of vulnerability) was beingmanipulated by the Grays. They had made me naked and it was
103they who had given me the “gray” slacks to wear, only to takethem away again. The symbolism was obvious to me, eveninside the dream. My anxiety grew.I walked into another room where I met Margaret. Shewas carrying Katherine as an infant in her arms. She handedthe little bundle to me, and as I looked down at my daughter, Iwas horrified to see that it wasn’t Katherine at all. The babywas thin and frail, the face drawn tightly over its skull, withdark sunken eyes. I yelled to Margaret that this wasn’t ourbaby, but a changeling left by the Grays. (A changeling is,according to myth, a fairy child left in the place of a humanbaby, whom the fairies have kidnapped.) At first Margaretdidn’t believe me, but she began to suspect something waswrong when I showed her the ghostly waif she had handed me.At this point a number of people walked into the room.Among them were two suspicious-looking men. Both werewearing heavy coats and had cloth mufflers wrapped aroundtheir heads and faces. Each muffler was held in place by awide-brimmed hat. All but their eyes were kept from view. Iwas able to catch enough of a glimpse, however, to see thattheir skin was a light gray in color.Here at last was my chance to prove to everyone that Iwasn’t crazy and that I had been right all along about myencounters with these beings. I confronted the two new arrivalsand demanded that they unmask themselves. With a twinkle in
104his eye, one of them pulled off his muffler to reveal a human-looking face. My disappointment soon turned to horror as hereached up to his throat and started to pull off his human mask,revealing several long slimy tentacles that danced in the openair.This was more than I could take. I ran screaming back to my mother. “I give up,” I cried. “I don’t know what theywant of me,” I sobbed repeatedly as I curled up in a fetalposition on her lap.At that point I woke up, wide awake and shaken to thecore. After pondering the dream and its significance Iwondered if it had been a creation of my subconscious, or hadthe Grays manipulated the dream as a kind of communication?As I kept repeating this question over and over again in mymind, I suddenly felt very sleepy. I rolled back into bed andfell into unconsciousness. The dream immediately picked upwhere it had ended.The two Grays were gone and the people at the partywere gathered around me. A friend of mine whom I haven’tseen or even thought of for several years was there. His nameis Bobby and, although he is a highly intelligent individual andhas many personal qualities that I admire, the one thing thatpeople always remember about him is his stature, or lack thereof. He is the shortest person I know.
105As the dream picked up again, I began to describe toBobby the earlier part of the dream, as if I had just woken upfrom it. When I mentioned my anxiety at being naked anddiscovering the baby changeling, Bobby interrupted me toremind me that we had been discussing those very thingsearlier, before I had “fallen asleep.”I jumped up excitedly. From within the dream, Ireceived the confirmation I had asked for. The very fact that Ihad talked with Bobby about those things was proof that my“earlier” dream had indeed been manipulated by the Grays.Even awake, the symbolism is clear to me.In my mind Bobby represented the Grays because of hisshort stature. When he confirmed that we had talked about thekey elements of the dream before, it was as if a Gray itself hadadmitted to having manipulated the dream. This I now believeto be true. The Grays responded to my deep desire to knowtheir purpose by showing me, in a dream that they controlled,that I would freak out if I could see “behind the mask.”A few weeks ago, for no apparent reason, I suddenlyhad all the old symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.While they have since subsided, the nameless anxiety, facialticks, projectile vomiting while asleep, the depression and“night terrors” all came rushing back, as if I had never been ridof them. I had come to terms with my nocturnal visitors. Iwasn’t afraid of them any longer. Even when I saw two of 
106them materialize in my bedroom in the early morning hours of June 11
, I wasn’t frightened. I was excited as hell, but Iwasn’t frightened. I even called them my friends. They havehealed me twice of very painful conditions, and I have come tounderstand that they have a genuine concern for my welfare. Ihad no reason to suddenly become anxious and fearful again,yet I did.After much thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that Imust have been given some information that greatly distressedme. Since this disquieting information came to me in the night,my fear of the night returned. Now they’ve “told” me thatwhatever it was, my conscious mind is unlikely to be able tohandle it. I have many questions, but they are telling me thatI’m not strong enough for the answers.Perhaps they’re right. Whatever their purpose, I sensethat it is both extremely disturbing and very important. If Iwere to suddenly know consciously what I evidently knowsubconsciously, life’s day-to-day mundane responsibilitiesmight prove to be too much for me to handle. Still, a part of mewants desperately to know.I feel like a real-life “Manchurian Candidate.”
A good movie staring Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey. A“Manchurian Candidate” has since come to mean a person who has beenprogrammed with information, about which his or her conscious mindknows nothing.
Saturday, September 17
I had another “easy” nosebleed. I blew my nose and theblood gushed out of my left nostril. It’s always the left one.Katherine was with me last night and will be againtonight, as well. I know they come for us when we’re together.It saves them a trip.
Tuesday, September 27
Katherine called me this morning before she left forschool to tell me that she woke up with blood on her pillow.I’ve asked her to tell me whenever she has a nosebleed. I’msure that they are indications of a visit by our Gray escorts.Last night I got to bed about 4:30 A.M. and had to getup at 7:30. I woke up before the alarm went off and wassurprisingly alert all day for having had so little sleep. Thistoo, I believe is a good indication that they’ve been here. At 47I can’t operate effectively for long periods of time without agood night’s rest, which I rarely get anymore. I tried recentlyand just about died from exhaustion at the end of the day.They came for both of us last night, I’m sure. In fact, Ibelieve they pick me up first so that I can help Katherine toremain calm throughout her ordeal. For that at least, I amgrateful.
Thursday, October 13
I only got four hours of sleep last night, but again it
108feels like I slept a full eight, which I haven’t done for manymonths now. That’s not normal for a person my age. I haven’tbeen able to function without a good night’s rest since mycollege days.Oh yes, I had another nosebleed this morning. AsCyrano de Bergerac said about his nose in that famous play byEdmond Rostand, “When it bleeds, the Red Sea!”
Saturday, November 12
I had another ET-related dream last night which took place sometime between 4:30 and 6:20 A.M. (I continue totake note of my sleep cycles.) While I have described suchdreams before, they’ve been ones that I felt were created insome way by the ETs when they either wanted to communicatesomething to me or were trying to disguise what was actuallyhappening at the moment. This one, however, I think mighthave been manufactured by my subconscious mind. I find thisdream interesting because it seems to confirm the strugglebetween my conscious desire to know the details of what ishappening to me and why, and the need of my subconsciousmind to keep hold of its secrets.As the dream began to unfold, I found that I was in thearmy and that my unit was garrisoned at what appeared to be ashopping mall. The floor of our barracks was embedded with
In the movie, Jose Ferrer was Cyrano de Bergerac, the best swordsman in17-century France with a large nose, of which no one dared make fun.
109numerous coins from around the world. A flooding accident of some kind covered the floor with an inch or so of water, whichloosened the coins. All the soldiers, including me, began topick up the loose coins in a kind of “feeding frenzy” until mostof the coins were recovered. I wrapped my hoard in a toweland placed it on my bunk. Just then the sergeant came in andsaw what had happened. He demanded that all the coins beturned over to him and then came to my bunk and took mybundle.The scene then changed to outside the barracks, in themall area itself. I was some kind of intelligence agent carryingsecret messages to my military superiors. These messages weregiven to me by a woman who had a group of little children withher. I ran back and forth several times between her and themilitary command center, all the while sneaking about trying tokeep out of sight of those walking around the mall.Again the scene shifted. I was in the company of thesame woman, but this time there was another man with us whowas holding a shopping bag. I somehow knew that the bagcontained a bomb that he meant to deliver to our intelligenceservice and that it was my assignment to intercept it. The manwas about to leave when the group of little children showed up.Evidently they had all made plans to go somewhere and thechildren were anxious for the man to leave with them. He was
110agreeable, but said that they would have to wait until hedelivered his important package.At that point I saw my chance to intercept the bomb andoffered to deliver his package for him. At first he was hesitantto give it up, but relented when I assured him that I woulddeliver it safe and sound. He handed me his shopping bag andthen left with the woman and her children.I immediately hurried across the mall and delivered thebag to my superiors. I was congratulated on a job well doneand was then dismissed. Apparently I was off duty for the timebeing. I walked around the mall briefly before I ran into thewoman and her children again, but this time the “terrorist”wasn’t with them. They were following behind three or fourmen who seemed to be leading the way, and I fell into walkingwith them. The milling crowds of shoppers began to thin andwe were soon walking through what was obviously the back area of the mall.I asked one to the men where they were from. Heanswered with the name of some town in Illinois that I don’tremember now, but one of the children, a little girl, spoke upand said that they were really from “Planet-X.” From the lookson their faces, the men seemed a bit annoyed that she hadrevealed their true origin. They said nothing further, however,but continued to silently lead the procession.By this time, I had the distinct feeling that they were
111escorting me somewhere, instead of my just walking alongbeside them. The same little girl continued to talk to me,saying that I was being prepared to live with them and, that ontheir planet, they lived underground. Oddly, I didn’t seem to bebothered by this revelation. I was instead very interested inlearning more of what lay in store for me, but I woke up at thatpoint.Whitley Strieber and others have described encounterswhere the ETs gave them a vision of the end of the Earth. Aftera bout of night terrors and depression, which suddenlyreemerged in my life last August and lasted several weeks, Icame to believe that I might have been given some similar kindof disturbing information. This is I feel the most likelyexplanation for the sudden change in my emotional well-beingat the time. By then I had come to accept my nocturnal visits asbeing personally beneficial, and was even calling the Grays“my little friends.”I believe that in the symbolism of my dream the foreigncoins imbedded in the barracks floor represented the variouscountries of the world. A flooding accident (a naturalcatastrophe?) loosened them, and my fellow soldiers and Iscrambled about in a frenzy (global chaos?) recovering as muchof the loot as we could.Under hypnosis many people who have had personalencounters with UFO occupants describe meeting a tall ET
112after being brought aboard the craft by the much shorter beingsknown as “the Grays.” This taller being is often felt to befeminine in nature. The woman in my dream with her group of children would certainly fit this description.In the dream I was a military intelligence agent (mysubconscious mind?) who worked hard to keep the secrets of the woman and her children. The terrorist, however, (myconscious mind?) was bent on destroying those secrets with hisbomb.In my journal entry of June 22
I described a dreamthat I believe to have been created by the ETs as an apology forwhat they have done to Katherine and me. It ended with aninvitation by an elderly Japanese man to come and live in hiscountry. My feelings about that dream are that the Japanese,with their almond-shaped eyes, symbolize the Grays, and thatthe invitation to live in Japan was an invitation to live withthem on their home world.In last night’s dream one of the children told me thatthey were from Planet X and that I was being prepared to livewith them underground. Now it seems that after many weeksof speculating on that very possibility, my subconscious mind(or perhaps even the ETs themselves) has tried to tell me thatthe invitation is genuine.Half of me is intrigued by the idea of experiencing areal Alien culture and the other half of me is scared as hell.
My Return
Personal Journal: Part Two
May 30, 2006 – August 5, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
It has been over eleven years now since I’ve addedanything to my UFO journal. I obviously didn’t take upresidence on another planet. Not that the extraordinary eventsthat had suddenly taken hold of my life has ended. On thecontrary, they continue unabated to this day.November 27, 1994, however, marked a sinister turn inthese events, for it was on that day that I came to realize thatAliens were not my only visitors in the night. Here is my last journal entry.
Sunday, November 27, 1994 
 I went to bed about 12:30 this morning, after working at my computer for a few hours on this journal. I woke upbecause something very strange happened in my sleep. I was asleep when, all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathethrough my nose. First everything was fine, then Wham! Bothnostrils were completely blocked, forcing me to start breathingthrough my mouth. I tried to wake up, but felt restrained and couldn’t open my eyes. I then slipped into deepunconsciousness. When I did wake up, I felt like I was in somekind of altered state. My perception was distorted and I found it hard to focus my attention. It felt as if I was moving in slowmotion, but the feeling dissipated in a minute or two, leavingme feeling “normal.” I was shaken from the memory of the “attack” on me inmy sleep and knew that something highly unusual had happened. The Grays had never had to use physical force onme before, and I had definitely been physically restrained. walked around my studio apartment and noticed that therewere several things that were not as I had left them before I went to bed. I had laid the freshly printed pages of my journalon my computer table last night, in a neat pile. This morning
the top page was askew, as if someone had picked it up and laid it back down. On the kitchen counter is a postcard from the
National Geographic Magazine
announcing that my father hasgiven me a subscription as a holiday gift. It has lain there, facedown, for the last couple of weeks, but this morning it was faceup. Now, the big one . . . I know that people can forget that they handled certain papers or postcards and didn’t leave them as they remembered,but this last disturbance is a real puzzler. When I walked intothe bathroom, I was immediately struck by what I saw in thesink. The sink had obviously just been used. There were beadsof water all over, up the sides and right to the brim. They wereso fresh that the ones high up were still running down, collidingwith the other beads of water and forming small streams that ran down into the drain. I decided to do an experiment. First I used a stopper and filled the sink with water. When I let the water drain, it did not form any beads at all. Beads of water did form, however,when I splashed the sides of the sink with water from the tap.The beads of water formed in this fashion completelyevaporated within an hour, although they stopped runningdown the sides of the basin after just a few minutes. I hadn’t been in the bathroom, much less used the sink, in over fivehours. I have a bad feeling about this. Something is verywrong. I doubt that the Grays wash their hands after they put me back in bed.
Something was very wrong indeed! Two days later Ireceived a phone call from Katherine’s mother. The nightbefore there had been an attempted break-in at their home.Everyone was asleep except for Oscar, who heard voices at theback door that leads into the garage near where he slept. Whenhe went to investigate, they ran back to the front of the houseand Oscar heard a car speeding off. Oscar later described the
116men as “white,” not because he saw them, but because theyspoke English to each other without any discernable accent.We never did find out who those men were, but I’m sure thatthey were also the ones who broke into my apartment the nightbefore as I slept.I was urged to resume this UFO journal by my closefriend, Arian, when she recently visited me. She scolded mefor failing to finish any of my writing projects. She went on toaccuse me of sitting on my rear end for the last ten years ormore, ignoring my purpose here on Earth, which she believes isto help other UFO Experiencers.I don’t know about my purpose in life, but she is rightabout one thing. I haven’t done much for a very long while,except to try to focus on work and pay the bills on time. Mostpeople do this easily every day of the week, but most peopledon’t have to also deal with paradigm shifts and governmentharassment on a continuing basis. After a while I found iteasier (and safer) not tell my UFO stories, except to a smallcircle of friends who have learned to be patient with me. Nomore going to UFO conventions and networking with otherExperiencers. There was less grief to be had if I laid low.Well, I’m in my late 50s now. I live alone and I havevery little to lose. I’ve decided to at least finish this for mydaughter. She’s going away to college in the fall after finishingher first two years close at home. I’ll give her the manuscript
117after she graduates. I don’t want to give her anythingdisturbing to think about until after she’s through with herstudies. I don’t know if I’ll actually publish this, but I do needto put it all down on paper. There is so much that hashappened, and it continues to happen almost every day. I’llcontinue to report the major events in my journal.The two unexplained bruises I found on my left shinhave stopped being sensitive to the touch and seem to be almosthealed, except that they are still quite dark in color. One ishalfway down my right calf and right over a new scoop mark.The other is halfway between the first bruise and my ankle.I discovered the new scoop mark on my right shin abouta week ago. The first one, which I received years before, hassince filled in.
Wednesday, May 31
After work, I came home to find the door at the end of the hall to the stairwell was wide open again. I used to thinthat my neighbor across the way was leaving it openoccasionally, even though I posted a sign asking people to keepit shut. I met her recently in the hallway and we talked aboutthe door being left open. She hadn’t known that I made thesign and said she thought it was me that was leaving it open.She agrees that it should be left shut for security reasons. (Thehomeless sometimes gain entrance to our apartment buildingthrough the garage and come up the stairwells, and there have
118been thefts of bicycles that were left in the hallways.) I’mbeginning to think it’s another sign that Majestic has visitedwhile I was away or asleep, when I find it left open in themorning.
3:00 A.M.:
 Tonight I found six marks or more on the back of myright thigh. I have to use a hand mirror to see them. Theydon’t hurt, but are red and raised and form a part of a circle.They almost look like mosquito bites.
Thursday, June 1
When I woke up this morning, I found my blanket onthe floor at the bottom of the bed. This has happened a fewtimes before, but I don’t see how it could while I’m asleep. Idon’t know that I toss and turn that much during the two hoursthat I normally sleep before waking up. In fact I can’t toss andturn at all because I’m hooked up to a C-PAP machine at night.(It was prescribed for my Sleep Apnea.) If I were to try andturn over in my sleep, the plastic air hose would bunch up andbreak the seal of my face mask. That would certainly wake meup.
Majestic was the code name used for a blue-ribbon committee formed byPresident Truman to investigate the crash of a flying saucer nearRoswell, New Mexico in 1947. It is thought that this committee (or onelike it) later took control of all matters related to UFOs, including, nodoubt, the covert surveillance of Abductees/Experiencers.
Saturday, June 3
I discovered at least nine new marks behind my leftthigh, maybe a couple more. They seem to be in two groups,one above the other. They’re red but don’t hurt to the touch.They look like mosquito bites or needle marks that havebecome infected. The marks behind my right thigh are all butgone, with only two still visible. There are also what look liketwo puncture marks on the back of my left hand. Both are justto the side of a vein. I also found a small bruise just below myright knee today. There’s another bruise halfway down myright shin, just below the new scoop mark that I reportedfinding in my May 30
 journal entry. It’s beside another newpuncture mark.Also, when I took a shower tonight I noticed that thehair on the back of my wrists and on my shoulders was mattedwith a residue of some sort. It was very difficult to removewith just soap and water, even when I used a scrub brush. Itreminded me of the kind of residue left by the gel used by labtechnicians, when they place the electrodes on a patient inpreparation for an EKG test.
Monday, June 5
When I came home tonight I was very fatigued, so Idecided to take a nap before doing anything else. I slept forabout two hours (pretty well the maximum I ever sleep at onetime) before getting up. When I got up I soon noticed that my
120eyes were itching, so I went into the bathroom to take a look inthe mirror. They were very red, but not swollen, and I bathedthem in eye drops. After a half an hour the eye drops havereduced the discomfort and a lot of the redness, but it’sobvious that I need another dose.Also, when I logged on to my computer this evening mynew spyware detection software told me that I had twounauthorized new programs recently installed. The “furtherdetails” link for each “alert” said the following.Product name is not provided.Company name is not provided.Copyright information is not provided.When I tried to remove them, the screen announced,“There are currently no new alerts to view” (meaning theoperation was successful), but in a couple of seconds the twopieces of spyware were detected again and the original twoalerts reappeared on the screen. I followed the instructions toremove them several times, but the same announcement(followed by the same two alerts) appeared on the screen eachtime.The thing is, although my new computer is Internet-ready, I haven’t as yet connected to the Internet and goneonline, so these two pieces of spyware couldn’t have comefrom surfing the Web. It’s Majestic’s doing and they wantedme to know that they’re in my computer. I’m sure they know
121how to plant their spyware so as not to be detected, if theyreally wanted to.
Tuesday, June 6
I met Leila for lunch. She works downtown just a fewblocks from me. She told me she has become more aware of her own ET experiences over the last few years. I told her of my recent nighttime bruising and she confessed that shesometimes finds unexplained marks on her body, too. Imentioned again that I could count on one hand the number of times that I have slept three or more consecutive hours in thelast dozen years before waking up. She confirmed today thatshe has had, for the last ten years or so, the same interruptedsleep patterns as I have. I came home and reread parts of my journal from 1994, among them the entry for April 26, 1994when my friend, Dick Mayfield, asked me if he could sleepover because of his “night terrors.” He told me that night thatfor the past six years he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time. He apparently suffered from the same sleepdisorder as Leila and I do. I think I see a pattern here.
Friday, June 9
This evening I felt a slight pain when I ran my handover the front of my calf. I took a look and discovered a newpuncture mark. It’s infected. They usually are. I think they aremeant to be. The ETs can take scoops of flesh from my legs,leaving no blood or infection. My human intruders want me to
122recognize their handiwork and make sure that their injectionsare noticed, by insuring that they become infected. It’ssupposed to instill fear and induce paranoia. I won’t give themthe satisfaction. I don’t know what I’m being injected with, butit seems that in addition to the psychological warfare that’sbeing waged against me my body is also a battlefield.
Tuesday, June 13
I sleep with several pillows, including two king-sizedpillows, one to support my back and another to put between myknees. I augment the pillow for my back with a smaller one totuck in here and there, depending on where the aches and painsare at the moment. Whenever I wake up, which is every hourand a half to two hours, I’ll turn over and reposition the smallpillow so that it’s at my back again. Last night, I woke up at4:00 A.M. and did just that, but when I woke up the next time Inoticed that the small pillow was not within reach. A completesearch of the covers revealed it at the very bottom of the bedand next to the wall. I don’t know how it could have migratedthat far, since I don’t move around much in my sleep. When Igot home from work, I found a new small bruise next to anothermark in the middle of my left shin.
Wednesday, June 14
As I came home today on the train, I noticed that I wasbeing stared at by a guy wearing sunglasses. He was seatedabout fifteen feet in front of me. I didn’t notice him as I looked
123around for a place to sit, so he may have been behind me as Iboarded. When I took my seat and the book I’ve been readingfrom my briefcase, I looked up and saw him. He was dressedin civilian clothes and had a short (military?) haircut. I wassitting alone in the double seat, so it was me he was staring at.When I stared back, he didn’t look away. The book I had withme was one written by another Experiencer, so I held it up highand wide open so the title would be easily visible to him. Theslight movement of his head indicated to me that he was tryingto read it. I kept staring at him over the top of the book, and allthe while he didn’t shift his gaze or change his deadpanexpression. I finally gave up and laid the book on my lap andstarted reading. A little while later I saw him get off at the nextstation.
Thursday, June 15
It’s my birthday today. Katherine and her motherpicked me up after work and we drove to Katherine’sboyfriend’s place, where Katherine made dinner for all. It wasafterwards, when she was standing in the kitchen, that hermother asked her about the bruises on her legs. Although shewas wearing a skirt, I hadn’t noticed them until Margaret saidsomething.My heart sank like a stone. Both of Katherine’s legswere covered in bruises. They were of the same size as theones I’ve been finding on my legs. Katherine said that she
124didn’t know for sure where she had gotten them, but suspectedit was from her job. She picks up trash around the seats in amovie theater, and thinks she might be hitting her shins on theseats. I didn’t say anything to the contrary, although the bruiseswere all over her legs and not just confined to the limited areawhere the seats would have been hitting her.
Tuesday, July 4
I’m vacationing all this week with my friend Arian ather mobile home park for seniors. She is the youngest of thosewho reside there, having just lived long enough to qualify. Ihappened to be outside and listening to my transistor radio withits earphones today, when the sound of a helicopter intruded onthe talk program I was tuned to. I looked up and saw ahelicopter leaving the area. Because of its distance and the wayit was positioned in the sky, I couldn’t see if it had markings ornot, or even if it had one rotor or two. I had been slow torecognize the sound as that of a helicopter through theheadphones and didn’t respond in time. But why would anyhelicopter buzz a mobile home park for seniors?
Friday, July 14
I woke up today feeling very spacey, like I wasdrugged. Two hours at work and four cups of coffee later, Istill couldn’t shake the feeling. I was making simple mistakeswith the paperwork on my desk and finally decided to go home.
125We are moving part of the office to a new location thisafternoon, and although I wanted to stay and help, I knew Icouldn’t be useful in my present condition. I’m going to take anap and hope that helps.As I powered up my computer to make this notation, Ichecked the history of my “Window Washer” program (itoverwrites the histories of various files on the computer), and itsaid that the last “wash” overwrote seven Internet-related files.The thing is, I haven’t been able to access the Internet for sometime now. When I try, the system message always says that Ican’t connect because either the modem is already being usedor it’s missing. I have a modem, but I think that Majestic hastaken control of it.
Saturday, July 15
I got up this morning at about 8 o’clock and had myusual weekend breakfast at the corner restaurant. I still feltdrugged and the feeling didn’t really leave me until after noon.It was only then that I noticed that I have two new wounds onmy right hand. They are red and ugly and appear to beinfected, so they would have to have been there for a day or soto have gotten so nasty. The one near the second joint of mythumb is a cut, three sixteenths of an inch long. The other isnear a vein on the back of my hand, near the base of the thumb.The vein is raised and that is the only way I would know thatit’s there, because I can’t see a vein on my left hand at the same
126spot. This wound looks like it could be a puncture mark. Ishould remember getting these wounds because they look likethey would have been painful at the time, but then again I wasprobably drugged. Damn bastards!
Monday, July 17
They were in my apartment again today. Whenever Icome home, my two cats usually act as if they couldn’t careless. They will normally be lounging in their favorite placesand might glance my way (or not) as I enter the room from thehallway. Today when I opened the door, both of them werestanding there to greet me. They circled near my feet until Imade my way into our living area and sat down, talking to meall the way. They’re going to need more attention than usualtonight.Oh yes, the door at the end of the hall that leads to thegarage stairway was open again when I came home, anothersign that Majestic has been here. The door wasn’t wide open,or even just ajar. The door was opened and then brought back to touch the door jamb. This is not a natural position for a doorwhen a person just walks through and doesn’t think to shut it.Even if a person was to swing the door backward as he passedthrough, it isn’t likely that it would wind up actually touchingthe door jamb. The door would either miss its mark or close. Itmight come quite close to touching the door jamb, but it usuallytakes a conscious act of placing the door in position to actually
127touch the jamb. It might happen once in a great while, but as Ithink this though I remember that the door has been lefttouching the door jamb almost every time I’ve seen it open.I’m sorry. I’m notoriously slow in getting things. Majesticprobably had hoped that I would figure this out long ago.Majestic wants the Experiencer to know when they’vevisited. All of this “sneak & peek” is meant to generate fearand paranoia. That’s why they leave the hallway door open inthat unnatural position. It’s right next to my apartment doorand I always glance over to check it when I come home.
Saturday, July 22
When I woke up this morning around 7:30, my upperarms were sore, like I had done some pull-ups or carriedsomething heavy in both hands for a while. By the time Ifinished my weekend breakfast at the corner restaurant theydidn’t hurt anymore, but as of now (1:30 in the afternoon) theystill feel weak. What was I doing last night?
Friday, July 28
I noticed today two new puncture marks, one on theback of each of my hands. They are symmetrically placed inthat both are near the wrists, and about one inch from the edgeof the wrist (thumb side). Like all the others, they don’t hurt,but look like they should, because they’re red and ugly looking.The humans evidently never use an alcohol swab. They just
128 jam the needle in. I think these invasions of my body by theMajestic don’t hurt because I’m being cushioned from some of the effects of their harassment by my ET friends.
Saturday, August 5
Several things happened today to make me suspect thatsomeone came into my apartment last night. When I got up,my cats were all over me. Usually they’re very nonchalant.Pywacket may (or may not) see me to the door when I leave,but that’s because he’s been “dethroned” as the Alpha Cat byCharlie and needs reassurance that I still love him. I gotCharlie when she was a kitten to be company for Pywacket, butshe’s since grown to adulthood and asserted herself. Todaythey both saw me to the door when I left the apartment, evenvocalizing their concerns as I left. I glanced at the hallwaydoor. It was shut; no sign of Majestic there.All day long I’ve been hyper-emotional. When thishappens, it’s always strong feelings of compassion welling upinside of me. Today I was reduced to tears by an encounterwith a homeless man. There really isn’t that much thatseparates us. Genetically we’re all but identical, and growingup we had much in common. We were both little boys once,and both of us have had to deal with siblings, friends, bullies,teachers and our parents. We are both human, yet I have arelatively comfortable life and he’s carrying what fewpossessions he has in plastic bags and talking to the air around
129him. There, but for the grace of providence, go I. Later I blewmy nose and had my first nosebleed in years.Some have speculated that the nosebleeds Experiencersoften have are the result of nasal implants that are thought tostimulate the frontal lobes of the brain. That’s the area of ourgray matter that’s responsible for our higher mental processes.It’s where the concepts of right and wrong and our feelings of compassion are developed. Perhaps last night the little guyscame and stimulated my frontal lobes for an extra dose of goodfeeling for my fellow human beings.
This will be my last journal entry. I’ve decided to stopnoting everything that happens in writing, at least as a journalentry. There are a couple of reasons. First I need to finish thisthing. If I keep adding to it, it will always be open-ended.The second is that my diary entries seem to encourageMajestic to continue their mischief. They invade my apartmentwhile I’m away and always do something to show me thatthey’ve been there. It’s part of their psychological warfare andit’s meant to create paranoia, or at least paranoid behavior.(Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean that they’re notreally out to get you.) If I freak out and act paranoid, thenpeople won’t take what I say seriously, and that’s exactly whatMajestic wants. Every time I took note in my journal that thehallway door was left open in that special way to indicate that
130Majestic was there, they did it again. It’s become so routinenow that I’m sure that even if the door is left that way, theyoften don’t bother even to enter the apartment. (My cats don’talways react now). Whenever I report on their doings, theytake it as a sign that their techniques are working because theygot a reaction out of me. I’ve decided now not to automaticallyrespond to the little things they do to me by noting it in my journal. Instead, I’ll write short chapters in this book about themajor events that continue to happen.
Terms & Definitions
Throughout this book I use certain words and terms thatI should define. Some of my definitions don’t quite matchthose in the dictionary, but when referring to very strangesituations that are outside the experience of most humans, or tosentient life forms who come from outside our normal time andspace, our earthly vocabulary (in whatever language) is oftennot up to the task.ET is
short for “Extraterrestrial,” which my dictionarydefines as “originating, located or occurring outside Earth or itsatmosphere.” Less than twenty years ago it was generallybelieved that all UFOs and their occupants came from someother terrestrial planet with a hard outer crust composed of bedrock, as opposed to a gaseous planet like Jupiter or Saturn.No other possibility was considered, because no otherpossibility was thought . . . possible.Since then most researchers have expanded theirthinking to include the concept of beings who can travelbetween dimensions, called “Interdimensionals” or “IDs.”
The current state of theoretical physics in the post-Einstein era is bestrepresented by what is known as “String Theory.” According to our currentunderstanding, reality is composed of eleven different dimensions. Thesedimensions vibrate like a string on a violin, each at a different rate, with ourexistence in this material dimension vibrating at the lowest rate. Eachdimension contains within it an infinite number of universes, eachrepresenting one of the infinite possibilities shown to mathematically existthrough the famous example of “Schrödinger’s Cat.” (Google it.)
133IDs that visit us are thought to exist mainly on the “Astral” or“Ethereal” Plane, a plane of existence right next to our own,separated by only a thin veil that hides it from our perception.This plane of existence can be accessed by humans through avariety of out-of-body travel techniques, including meditation,use of psychedelic drugs, the practice of remote viewing, oreven the act of dying (more on that later). There are manystories of people seeing the Grays when accessing the EtherealPlane through any one of these methods.It seems that dozens of different species are visitingEarth at present. Whether they’re from terrestrial planets orfrom other dimensions is often hard to discern. I’ve chosensimply to use the old tried and true “Alien” (with a capital A todifferentiate it from the human variety) and “ET” as a generalterm to refer to any sentient Being not originating on thisphysical Earth, including Interdimensionals.In my journal I wrote Gray with a capital “G,” but fromhere on out I’ll be more specific. Whenever I refer to the GrayAliens I’ll now use the lower case (gray) to indicate the smallvariety, and the upper case (Gray) when referring to the tallerones who appear to be their supervisors.UFO is an acronym for “Unidentified Flying Object.”Edward Ruppelt, director of Project Blue Book, coined thephrase, but it quickly became a misnomer as the military earlyon leaned toward the extraterrestrial explanation as the only
134answer that fit the facts of the phenomenon and said so in print,before the lid slammed shut within the military on opendiscussion of the subject when the CIA took control of allUFO-related information-gathering in 1956.
 “Flying Saucer” was originally part of a newspaperheadline, referring to Kenneth Arnold’s description in 1947 of his sighting of disks that flew in formation near Mount Rainierin the state of Washington. He said they looked like twosaucers, one turned on top of the other and later described theirmovements to reporters, “like a saucer would [look] if youskipped it across the water.” The term stuck.“Fast Walker” is supposedly the military designation forthe typical small flying saucer, and of course “Mother Ship”refers to one that is much larger.I like Captain Ruppelt’s “UFO” because, in the largersense, we really don’t know what they are. Are these ships that
Refer to page 338 in the Appendix for a photocopy of the original dust jacket to the hardcover edition of Flying Saucers from Outer Space, byMajor Donald Keyhoe, USMC, ret. On the back is reproduced a letterreceived by the publisher from the Department of Defense, written by publicrelations officer Albert Chop on DOD stationary, describing Major Keyhoeas “a responsible, accurate reporter,” and confirming that “all the sightingreports and other information he listed have been cleared and made availableto Major Keyhoe from Air Technical Intelligence records, at his request.”The letter ends by saying that there are those in the Air Force who believe“if the apparently controlled maneuvers reported by many competentobservers are correct, then the only remaining explanation is theInterplanetary Answer.” In Flying Saucer Conspiracy, another book byKeyhoe, he reproduced a letter from Edward J. Ruppelt, Chief of ProjectBlue Book, in which Ruppelt stated that he agreed with the above statementby Mr. Chop in regards to the origins of flying saucers.
135traverse the stars, or they interdimensional transport? Are theynuts-and-bolts aircraft, or are they possibly a hybrid of machineand biological life, as some people like Bob Lazar havespeculated?Some have said that there are no real UFOs, meaningthat their origins are known, at least to the government, andtherefore not “unidentified.” I think that’s too simplistic ananswer. Which UFOs are they talking about? With dozens of Alien species visiting Earth from planets in this or any one of ten other dimensions, any one flying disk can come from justabout anywhere. Just because they look alike, doesn’t meanthey all come from the same place. Are all Boeing 747 aircraftmanufactured at the same factory? Are they all based in thesame country? Do all their crews even speak the samelanguage?There are UFOs of many different designs, from thefamiliar “saucer” or “disk” to the more old-fashioned cigar-shaped craft, and now large noiseless triangular airships arebeing sighted more and more often. I’ll use UFO to describeAlien flying craft in general, and “saucer” or “disk” whentalking about ships of a circular design.The two words used most often to describe me andothers like me who have Awakened into this new paradigm are“Abductee” and “Experiencer.” One word is obviouslynegative in its implication, while the other suggests a more
136natural position as to how one feels about their Awakening.
 Throughout the rest of the book I will on occasion use thesetwo words separately, but most often I’ll combine them intoone word, “Abductee/Experiencer,” as I try to speak to thesetwo groups of my fellow travelers.I use the name “Majestic” to refer to that arm of oursecret government that’s responsible for all matters related toUFOs. It was the name given to President Truman’s originalUFO advisory panel. Although there is no real evidence that itremained in existence beyond its original mandate toinvestigate a UFO crash sight near Roswell, New Mexico in1947, it’s only logical to assume that the Majestic-12Committee (or something like it) continues to monitor the UFOsituation, including the surveillance of those people in contactwith their occupants.
See “What do We Call Ourselves” on page 225 for a more thoroughdiscussion of the meaning and use of these two words.
The “Physical” Evidence
When Experiencers go searching for evidence that thestrangeness that has taken hold their lives is in fact real and nota figment of their imagination, they often don’t have look beyond their own bodies to confirm that something bizarre isgoing on in the middle of the night. The sudden appearance of a scoop mark on your leg or the discovery of an unexplainedscar or scrape marks can go a long way to proving that you’renot crazy, at least to yourself.Over the years, there were many times when I wouldwake up to find that something had happened to my body whileI slept. Some of the effects were permanent, others transitory.In this segment I’ll note all the “physical evidence” my bodyhas collected during my years of ET contacts. (Thepsychological changes I’ve undergone are described elsewherein this book.)
Puncture Marks
On many occasions over the years, I would discoverwhat looked like puncture marks on various parts of my body,including the backs of my legs and hands. Many of theseincidents were duly reported in my journal. If they were needlepunctures, I don’t know who administrated the injections. Itcould have been the ETs or my human intruders, although I
138expect that both do inject me with something at various timesfor their own separate purposes.These puncture marks were of two distinct varieties.Some I was able to easily identify as needle injection sites,especially when I felt like I was drugged. Then there werethose that appeared in clusters, forming circular or semicircularpatterns on the backs of my legs. They were accompanied by araised portion of the skin directly below the puncture andlooked for all the world like mosquito bites. These mosquito-like marks have been reported by other Abductee/Experiencers.I also have a lower back injury, and in the days leadingup to the Bay Area UFO Expo in Santa Clara, California inAugust of 2006, it was particularly painful in the sciatic area onthe left side. I could feel a skin disruption of some kind there,but couldn’t see anything using my personal hand mirror.When I checked into my hotel room, I used the magnifyingmirror attached to the wall in the bathroom to get a better look.It was a puncture mark and it was directly over the source of my pain.It was the first UFO convention that I attended after Irestarted work on my book, and I took a room for the weekendso I wouldn’t have to commute the 50 miles each way for bothdays of the event. I woke up the next morning with a freshneedle mark on the back of my right hand. Cynthia, anExperiencer friend of mine who was also attending the
139convention, was quite excited when she saw it and showed myhand to several of her friends.The motives of my human tormentors are fairly easy todiscern. I’m told that, aside from wanting to inflict pain andsuffering by inflaming old injuries, the abductions by thegovernment (called “military re-abductions”) are often done to“debrief” the Abductee/Experiencer after an ET visit, throughthe use of hypnosis and sometimes the injection of drugs.I said earlier that I thought that at least some of mypuncture marks were caused by the ETs. But why would theywant to inject me with anything?In the early morning hours of August 17, 1994 I wokeup feeling very altered perceptually and staggered to my desk towrite two words on my notepad, “I’m metamorphosing.” Iwanted to document the thought I had in my head when I wokeup, but I couldn’t stay conscious and right afterwards stumbledback to my pillow and “fell asleep.”The drugs administered by the ETs are, I think, meant toalter me internally. The process, called “Transgenics,” isdescribed in a book by UFO researchers Budd Hopkins and hiswife Carol Rainey. The authors believe that, in addition to thehuman–Alien hybrid program where human female eggs andmale sperm are united with Alien genes to form hybrid fetuses,humans are also physically “transformed” using gene therapy.As to why Aliens would want to alter selected humans,
140all we can do is speculate. To survive on other planets? Tosurvive here on Earth, after some drastic change that is tocome? To change us into a fifth column of methane-breathingSpace Bugs in preparation for an invasion? Who knows? All Iknow is that I don’t.
Raised Veins
In 1995 I noted . . .
“On several occasions, I’ve woken up after a visit with theveins on the backs of my hands standing out predominantly,twice their normal size. After a couple of hours, they return tonormal. When I described this to Leila, she likened it to a“histamine reaction.”
 This cyclic raising and lowering of the veins on thebacks of my hands continued for years. Then there was aperiod of almost two years when they were always raised up. Ithought, in fact, that it had become a permanent condition. Iwas beginning to think that maybe it was just a sign of advancing age. I see a lot of elderly people with raised veins onthe back of their hands. But recently I was startled to noticethat the backs of my hands were smooth once again, and thatnone of the veins were even noticeable. They came back after afew hours, as high as ever, but then receded again. The rise andfall of the veins on my hands is back to a cyclic pattern again,periods of time when they’re very predominant, followed byequal periods when they’re not visible at all.
Very often after a visit by someone in the night (an ETor a Majestic agent, I never know for sure which), I wouldwake up with bruises on my legs. It used to happen quite often,but now only on rare occasions.I used to wonder if I was so clumsy that I walked intothings when I was with the ETs and in that hypnotic-like mentalstate. Other times I would think that maybe some of it wasbecause of rough handling by Majestic thugs. I was very upsetwhen I found out that my daughter Katherine was alsodiscovering bruises on her legs for which she couldn’t account.While they never were painful, they were always dark and uglylooking.Some of the bruising might be caused by the ETs, butsome is definitely caused by Majestic’s heavy hand, literally.Some Abductee/Experiencers have found bruises withfingerprints etched in them on their arms and legs, proving theywere held down with human hands. Although I never noticedany fingerprints on me, many of the smaller bruises were nearwhat looked like puncture marks. If those marks were fromneedle punctures, then those bruises might well have been aresult of being forcibly held down. Perhaps my attackers worelatex gloves when they administered their injections.
Right Foot, Left Foot, a Painful Dance
There was a period of about six months when I would
142feel sharp pains in the heel of my right foot whenever I wouldstand up to walk. The longer I had gone without putting weighton that foot, the more painful it was when I did. I would limpfor a while before the pain would subside to a level where Icould distribute my weight on both feet again and walk fairlynormally. I never did go to a doctor. I was unemployed duringthat time and couldn’t afford one. I also knew deep downinside that this was caused by the ETs, and that human doctorswouldn’t find anything. After enduring this condition forseveral months the pain shifted to the heel of my left foot,leaving the right one feeling completely normal again.Shortly afterwards I started work as a truck driver for asmall Korean household moving company that catered toKorean nationals moving to and from the US. I rememberbeing thankful that my right foot was feeling normal again,because it was the one I now used for the gas and brake pedalswhen I drove. The left foot was just as painful as the right onehad ever been, and for just about as long. Afterwards, I neverhad a problem with either foot again.The same thing later happened to a lady friend of minefor a while, and in the same manner, with one foot beingaffected for several months and then the other.
The Case of the Mysterious Muscles
There have been many times when I’ve woken up in themiddle of the night with my arms and legs aching as if I had
143been lifting heavy objects and hiking for miles in my sleep. Iwould often have to take pain medication to go back asleepbecause I would hurt so much.First of all, let me say that I’m now in my early 60s andI lead a very sedentary lifestyle, the only exercise I get beingthe three blocks I walk each way to and from the publictransportation I take to work. I sometime joke that if I didn’twalk down the escalators, I wouldn’t get any exercise at all.So it was more than a little surprising when I discoveredthat I had developed muscles in places where I hadn’t had anybefore. The muscles in my upper arms atrophied years ago, butI find I now can flex a pretty firm bicep in either arm. Also mycalf muscles are much harder than they were before. Evidently,I’ve been working out in my sleep.This is great! I get results without having to take timeout and go to a gym. I don’t even have to be motivated toexercise because I evidently have my own personal trainer whowon’t take no for an answer. The best part is I don’t have toremember any of it, just feel the pain after it’s all over and popsome ibuprofen.But seriously, it’s sobering to think that something “outthere” wants to toughen me up. What’s in store for me, that Ineed to be in good physical shape in my old age to be preparedfor it?
A Cleansing?
Having survived the California water shortages of the70s and 80s, I have the habit of not flushing my toilet everytime I urinate, so it may stand for several hours betweenflushings. In 1994, I wrote . . .
 My urine, if left in the toilet bowl for a couple of hours,will get cloudy and very slimy looking. Also there were cyclic periods of several weeks duration when my urine would  produce black sediment in the commode, just below the water line. It would have to be brushed away with a toilet brush. Thecoating was too thin, however, to scrape up and collect as asample.
The appearance of my urine eventually reverted to itsnormal state, of either being clear or of a yellow color, evenwhen left unattended overnight. The black sediment was neverreproduced again, but sometime in the summer of 2006 myurine started becoming a disgusting cloudy and slimy messagain when left to sit for a few hours. This went on for over ayear, but then it reverted to normal yet again.I was later able to confirm that this is indeed a cleansingprocess of some kind. In 1992 I stopped eating mammals,deciding that they were just too high up on the food chain.They have all the emotions of humans and it just seems toomuch like cannibalism to me. Not liking vegetables, I eat a lotof chicken and tuna. Until a year ago I ate maybe six cans of albacore (white tuna) a week, because I had heard that dolphinsdon’t swim with them as they do with other varieties of tuna, so
145they aren’t caught up in the fishing nets. As it turns out,albacore has up to five times the mercury levels of regular tuna.I’ve since switched to regular tuna and only eat thatoccasionally now, but whenever I do my urine becomes a slimymess for the next several days.
What Did They Do to My Teeth?
I have a memory of a “dream” fragment. I becomeaware that I’m conscious, but I have my eyes closed. Mymouth is open and suddenly I feel all of my teeth leave in onefell swoop, first the uppers and then, in rapid succession, thelower set of teeth. I remember being amazed, but quickly lostconsciousness. After that night, my bite was off and I keptbiting the inside of my cheek for a week or two afterwards. Itried to establish with my dentist that something was wrong, buthe couldn’t find anything unusual.
Funny, I Don’t Remember Having Brain Surgery
Years ago I found a scar on the back of my neck, just upin the hairline. I was sporting a ponytail at the time. When Ishaved my neck, I accidentally went up higher than usual anddiscovered it using a hand mirror. A friend measured it at justless than five inches in length. Now the question is, “Who didit, the ETs or Majestic?I also don’t have any major memory lapses in my life. Iimagine it would take some time to recover from surgery,
146especially one that would require such a long incision. Now Iknow that the ETs can work out of time, so they’re the logicalfirst suspect.
The length of the scar suggests to me, however,that it might have been Earthly medicine that would have needfor that much room to maneuver. I don’t think the ETs wouldhave needed to be so evasive. If that’s true, then thegovernment might be in possession of time-altering technology.(There are some books written from the fringes of UFOlogythat put forth just that hypothesis.) Or perhaps they have somesecret medical advancement that speeds the physical healing of wounds, or something like that used in conjunction with a post-hypnotic suggestion for the subject to ignore the affected areafor a while.I personally don’t know the answer, at least notconsciously. At first I thought that the ETs might have donesome corrective surgery. My grandmother, Happy, died of abrain aneurysm and I thought that maybe they had acted toprevent something similar from happening to me. Howevertwo good friends of mine, both of whom happen to be genuinepsychics, told me (independently of each other, I might add)that it was a surgical procedure performed by governmentdoctors, meant to interfere with my psychic development.Although the higher psychic functions of humans are located
I was given a dramatic demonstration of their ability to manipulate timeand space. (See “Missing Time in Bumper-to-Bumper Traffic” on page161.)
147behind the forehead, at the third eye or sixth charka, ouranimal-like psychic abilities are seated in the primal part of thebrain, near the back. Both the higher and lower psychic centershave to work together, I’m told, to produce “self-generated”effects.In addition to the scar on the back of my neck and theone on my genitals, which I described earlier in my journal, Ialso have one on my chin. Most of it is hidden in the naturallines under the chin, but the scar turns upwards on the left sideand ends quite noticeably at the top.I also have what I think is a Majestic implant, locateddirectly over my left temple. I have felt it for years, but nowthat I’m cutting my hair short, it’s quite obvious. It looks andfeels like a dark crusted scab, and my head will hurt whenever Itouch it, even slightly. The ET inplants I have are fleshy innature and have never caused me any pain.
Nighttime Sunburns
On May 21, 1994 I reported in my journal that I hadsomehow acquired a sunburn during the previous night.Although I didn’t note when it happened next, it did happenagain at least three other times. The severity of the burns Ireceived in the last incident induced me to break my prohibitionand write one more time in my UFO journal.
October 17, 2006 – Tuesday 
 I’m recovering from what I think is a mild case of radiation poisoning. Yesterday, when I got up I wasn’t feelingtoo well. For the last two weeks I’ve been battling severesciatic pain on my right side. A regimen of hot and cold packs,exercise and codeine medication have barely kept me from panic, as pain constantly shoots up and down my leg. I had believed my queasiness was due to the cumulative effects of exhaustion and frayed nerves that can result from severechronic pain. I shaved and got dressed to go to work, pushing asidethoughts of calling in sick. At my age, I don’t want to give people at work any reason to question my ability to keep up, sooff to work I went. I knew that something had happened duringthe night, though. My lips were numb. I stopped on the way to work to talk with a street musician and he commented on my “sunburn.” I didn’t knowwhat he was talking about because I hadn’t been out of myapartment all weekend (except for breakfast at the corner café,a half a block away from my apartment), but when I stopped bythe restroom at work before going to my desk I saw what hehad been talking about. Three fourths of my face was a dark red color with a clear straight line down the middle of my left cheek, marking the boundary between pink flesh and red meat. It didn’t hurt, although it certainly looked as if it should, and earlier in the morning I was able to shave without feeling anyundue tenderness. (The ETs have for me often rendered  painless what should have been very painful.) For some reasonthe artificial lighting in my bathroom at home didn’t show theredness nearly as clearly as the natural lighting in thebathroom at work, which is provided by a light-well and a bank of corrugated glass windows. Three of my co-workers saw the“sunburn.” One hypothesized a drug reaction with one of mymedications. The usual morning cups of coffee didn’t doanything to improve my stamina, so I finally went home and slept the rest of the day and most of the night (never more thantwo hours in a row, of course).
 I was better today, but felt drained and bit nauseous at the end of eight hours at work. My lips feel normal today and when I looked in the mirror this morning I could see theredness, but this time I was looking for it. There was somethingnew, however, a couple of blisters on the left side of my forehead. The skin in that area is very red, standing out fromthe rest of my face in contrast. In the middle of the redness is araised section with a clear membrane on top. There is asecond, smaller blister nearby. Also, I didn’t see the clear lineof demarcation down my left cheek, as I did yesterday. Thewhole of my face is red now. It appears that I was dosed withradiation a second time last night. This time it was enough toblister me! By the time I got home today, the fluid in both blistershad dissipated, leaving empty sacks of skin lying against my forehead to mark where they had been. The redness is stillthere and my face does feel tender now. I guess the anesthesia(hypnosis-induced?) is wearing off.This has happened several times before. This was theonly time that I’ve blistered, though, and the only time when I’ve felt ill afterwards.
 There were several times when I woke up with my eyesinflamed and feeling like they were filled with sand. It usuallytook a couple of doses of eye drops to stifle the urge to rubthem. I suspect that these were also times when I was exposedto some sort of radiation, but perhaps not enough to redden theskin noticeably. I don’t know who radiated me, the ETs orMajestic, or what their purpose was for doing so. The secondof this last pair of incidents, though, appears to have been
A photograph taken several days later, showing the empty blister sacksstill visible on my forehead, is reproduced on page 353 in the Appendix.
150meant to “erase” the line left on my forehead from the nightbefore.
Spontaneous Healings
Spontaneous healings are a somewhat controversialsubject in the UFO community. Not everyone gets them.Those who do don’t like to talk about them very much, for fearof coming across as bragging. There are Experiencers out therewith serious medical problems that need attention who can’tunderstand why, despite their willingness to cooperate with theETs, they don’t receive this kind of special attention.In my journal, I’ve described several times when theETs have healed me in some way. The first, only a month afterI had Awakened in 1994 to the fact that something strange hadtaken hold of my life, occurred after I strained my chest andshoulder on my home exercise machine. The second was whenI asked for, and received, a healing of the tendonitis in my lefthand. The next healing was one that I hadn’t asked for and onethat wasn’t physically necessary, thus showing me again thatthe ETs I’m involved with are compassionate beings. I drank too much the night I learned that I had lost a job opportunity forwhich I had been training for weeks. They eased both mynausea and my depression that time. Besides these specific actsof mercy that I’ve described in my journal, I have receivedother spontaneous healings from the ETs.For many years I drove for a living. It’s an unfortunate
151occupational hazard for such people to develop precancerousnodes on the high points of their faces, especially on the left,the driver side that gets the sun.Sometime in 1995, I had a spontaneous healing of justsuch a node on my nose that had suddenly flared up andbecame three times its normal size. I procrastinated and didn’tcall my doctor. After about a week, I woke up to find that ithad shrunk back to its original size. It bled slightly when Itouched it that morning, and I later found a bloody spot on mybath towel.Six months to a year after that, I noticed that anotherprecancerous node that I had had on my nose for years hadsuddenly grown in size. A few days later I woke up to find thatit had been dealt with during the night in the same manner asthe previous one.Years later, in May of 2006, another node that haddeveloped on my left cheek was removed completely, before itshowed any signs of becoming inflamed like the others. I guessthey caught on to the fact that I don’t like going to doctors and,because of my stubbornness, decided that they would have totake care of the problem themselves.In order to tell the reader of a wondrous spontaneoushealing I received, for which I will be eternally grateful, I mustadmit to having done something that I’m ashamed of and wouldreally rather forget. In the name of truth and honesty, though,
152I’ll swallow my pride and tell you that there was a six-monthperiod in my history when I was married to crack cocaine. Itwas the darkest time of my life, when I didn’t care if I lived ordied. I guess, after a while, I realized that I really would die if Ididn’t stop what I was doing, and I didn’t want my daughter toknow that her father had come to such a pitiful end. I threwaway my pipe four different times and each time I went back and bought another one the next day. After the fifth time, Ifinally succeeded in putting it down for good.I slowly returned to the land of the living, but I haddestroyed my lungs. I tired easily and it was difficult for me tobreathe at times. After two years of living with very little lungpower, struggling for breath after even the slightest bit of physical activity, I suddenly became aware one day that I wasable to breathe deeply again. I couldn’t believe it. I had mylungs back!I first noticed it after I climbed the three flights of stairsto visit my mother one afternoon. Her apartment buildingdidn’t have an elevator, and each time I went to see her I wouldhave to drag myself up the stairs, stopping at each landing for afew seconds to catch my breath. But one day I was amazed tofind that I hadn’t needed to stop for a rest and had made it tothe top breathing normally all the way! I was dumbfounded,and so very grateful to “the powers that be.” I still am.The middle of my back is still numb, however. The
153cocaine evidently collected there and, to this day, someone canstick a straight pin in my back and I won’t feel it.Over the years, the ETs have been very patient with meand my foolishness, but in this instance they were cautious aswell. They waited two years before healing me to verify that Ihad resolved the issues that derailed my life, and that I wassecure in my sobriety.
Have We Met Before?
In my journal entry of June 10, 1994 I reported that I“dreamt” I had been with a certain woman for a while and, atthe end of the dream, wondered to myself if she wasn’t also anExperiencer.Months later I took my daughter to a Denny’sRestaurant near where she lived with her mother. When thewaitress came to our table, she looked at me and asked me if wehad ever met before. At that point I looked at her more closelyand then remembered her as the woman in my dream! I hid mysurprise as best as I could and didn’t let on that I recognizedher. What could I say – “I saw you in a flying saucer”? Andbesides, my daughter was there with me.When she came back to the table to serve our food, sheasked again if I was sure we hadn’t met somewhere. Again Ihad to bite my tongue and say that I didn’t think so. I thoughtof going back later to see if I could get to know her better, butwhat could I have said to her? I had already denied having mether before. At that time in my life I wasn’t that good at keepingmy ET experiences to myself (I’ve since given up trying), and Iwas sure that at some point I would blurt it all out to her andcome across as a crazy person. I just let it go. I’ve oftenthought later that the ETs might have been trying to bring ustogether for some reason, but I chose not to cooperate.
Something with Claws
A lady friend of mine once described hearing somethingwhen she stayed over one night, “like a dog walking onlinoleum with its claws making that clicking sound.” She wastoo afraid to look, she said, and after a few seconds, “fellasleep.” Just before she did, though, she glanced over at meand saw that I was lying there on my back with my eyes wideopen, but unconscious.Many months later, after our relationship had ended, Iwas lying in bed with my face to the wall when I heard thatsame sound behind me, like a dog with long claws walking on alinoleum floor. (I have hardwood floors in my apartment.) Iinstantly remembered what my old girlfriend had said andrealized that this was my moment of truth. Would I be braveenough to turn around and look?I wanted to. I had on several occasions asked the Graysto tell me what was really happening in the middle of the nightwhen they visited, but was told through two different “dreams”that it was too scary for me to know.
I wanted to turn aroundand show them (and myself) that, although I was afraid, I wasalso brave.I wanted to turn around . . . but I didn’t. I lay there
Besides the dream reported in my journal entry of September 15, 1994, Ihad another “dream” in which my nerve was tested against the Chuckydoll from the horror movie franchise,
Child’s Play
. I lost.
156trembling, wishing they would just put me to sleep and dowhatever they came to do.After about a minute or so of waiting, I finally lostconsciousness.
My “Secret School”
Whitley Strieber wrote several books describing his ETexperiences. One is called
The Secret School
, in which herecounts his nighttime education as a child, administered by theGrays in an outdoor classroom setting with several otherchildren in attendance. A special teaching helmet was used toshow the children holographic videos as part of theirinstruction. I, too, attended a “Secret School” when I was ayoung boy.It was around 1957 in Oklahoma, where I spent my lifefrom age six to twelve. I would have to walk to school, whichwas about a quarter of a mile away. As I followed my route Iwould cut across a couple of empty lots and finally through anold field of weeds, with a small abandoned horse barn by acreek that meandered nearby. I remember that broken-downhorse barn had a strong attraction for me. I didn’t know why,but I would stare at it all the while I crossed the field in themorning. While I was walking home in the afternoon I usuallyhad something else on my mind, but during my morning trek toschool my attention was always riveted on that old shack.In the early 1970s, I returned for Happy’s funeral andtook a nostalgic walk to see that old barn again. By then it hadbeen reduced to a few bleached pieces of lumber loosely held
158together by rusted nails. After all that time, though, the placestill held a strong attraction to me. It was hard to leave.Later in 1995 I was reading Strieber’s description of hisnighttime gathering with other children sitting around in acircle with the ETs, and it triggered in me a similar childhoodmemory at the site of that old horse barn. I remember sittinginside it at night (when it still had something of a roof) withsome other children thinking that I knew some of them, butdidn’t know the others. There were “grown-ups” there whocouldn’t be seen directly, but we understood that they were incharge and the reason why we were there. I don’t remember ahelmet, though, or anything specific about the kind of instruction we received, if any.
The ET Employment Agency
During a prolonged period of unemployment in my life,I had another strange “dream.” I was given a sheet of paper bymy supervising Gray and told to look at it very carefully. Iwanted very much to pass this new “test” and to please myhandler, so I looked at the paper most intently.
 It had a column of letters in groups of three or fourrunning down the left side of the paper. To the right of some of those letter groupings, and on the same line, was repeated thesame sequence of letters followed by a slash and anothersequence of three or four letters. Some lines had more than onenew sequence, in addition to the repeated initial grouping of letters. It didn’t make any sense to me, and that’s where thedream ended.Months later, as a temporary employee, I was sent bymy employment agency to work at a Dub and Ship House forradio and television commercials. A Dub and Ship Housemakes copies of commercials as they are received from the adagencies that make them, and ships them to the broadcastingstations around the country that are contracted to air them.
I call my supervising Gray my “Shadow Man,” because he’s alwaysstanding in a dark shadow and I can never get a clear look at his face.Whenever he gives me a directive, I listen intently to make sure that Iunderstand the instructions fully, and I endeavor to comply with everydetail. My deference to him is complete and I feel and act as if mycooperation is extremely important.
160There was some discussion as to where to assign me,either as an order taker, customer service rep, or as a reviewer(someone who makes sure all the stations that are to receive thecommercials are listed correctly on the work order). TheReview Department won out and I was added to their ranks.After a round of introductions in my new office, I wasshown the paperwork that I was expected to proofread. My jawdropped to the floor when I saw a column of station call letters(groupings of three or four random letters, beginning with “W”or “K”) running down the left side of the paper, with their“sister” stations (stations owned by the same company) listedon the same line beside them. The sister stations wereseparated from each other by slashes (/). It was exactly what Ihad been shown months earlier by my supervising Gray!It was suddenly obvious to me that it had beendetermined long before I went to work there that I would findemployment at that particular company and in that particularoffice of the company. I was blown away. Aside from acouple of spontaneous healings that I couldn’t be sure weren’t just to keep their rat running the maze, this was my first realindication that, for whatever reason, I was somehow special tothem. I had never heard before of the ETs going out of theirway to find a job for an Experiencer, nor have I since. Afterfive months of working at the company as a temp, I was made apermanent hire with vacations and full benefits.
Missing Time in Bumper-to-Bumper Traffic
What I’m about to relate is utterly fantastic, but thisincident, shared with one other person in 1997, illustrates howthe ETs can manipulate time and space in ways that seem to uslike magic.It was the evening of September 7
and the three-dayUFO convention that visited San Francisco every year wascoming to an end. I had volunteered for several years runningto staff the information booth at these events in exchange for afree ticket. I particularly enjoyed meeting and interacting withthe people who would come up and ask for directions to thebathrooms, food court, or sales room. It was getting late, andpeople were beginning to leave in earnest when I saw that anattractive woman I had talked with earlier was visibly upset.The light rail transportation system (BART) thatservices our megalopolis had gone on strike only hours before.Lisa (not her real name) was a vender from out of town, sellinga book she had written and published, an encyclopedia of sortsof various alternative medicines and therapies. She was stayingat the home of a friend of hers across the Bay and now she wasmarooned on the wrong side. Although I lived in the city, I toldher that I would make the round trip across the bridge and takeher to where she needed to go for a twenty-dollar bill. She
162agreed and left to telephone her friend for directions, while Iclosed down the information booth.When she returned, she read from the notes she hadtaken. Our instructions were to proceed up Highway 580 andthen take the exit for the Caldecott Tunnel, Highway 24. Ourexit was the first one, just on the other side of the tunnel in thetown of Orinda. I told her that I knew how to get us that far,but that she would have to direct me after that point. We puther things in the back seat of my car and set out for the BayBridge.By the time we made the crossing, it was about nineo’clock. Although it was late, because of the strike the trafficwas bumper to bumper as we began to approach the tunnel.Right before the tunnel comes into view there is a sign thatreads, “Turn on your headlights.” I remember that I saw thatsign and complied with its directive, but I never saw the tunnel.Right after I turned on the headlights, my sight becamevery limited and I thought that I might be blacking out. Istrained to keep my eyes open, terrified that I might crash thecar in the middle of what seemed be a stroke. I could only seeas far as the rear bumper of the car in front of me, and I focusedall my attention on keeping it in sight and trying not to loseconsciousness, but in a second or two my field of visionnarrowed still further so that all I could see was the steeringwheel in front of me! I felt for certain that we were going to
163crash at that moment, and then everything went black for asecond or two.My vision suddenly returned and instead of seeing theinside of the tunnel, I was looking at the highway ahead of mewith a sign approaching, announcing that our exit was only aquarter of a mile away. I remember thinking that what I wasseeing was impossible. I tried to reorient myself, take note of the exit coming up, and keep the car on the road, all the whileabsorbing the shock of what had just happened. It was a fewseconds before I said out loud, “I don’t remember goingthrough the tunnel.”“Not unless it was a very short tunnel,” Lisa replied. (Infact, the Caldecott Tunnel is over a quarter of a mile long andvery brightly lit.) She was a bit confused and didn’t know whatto say. I didn’t either, especially since she was leaving forhome the next day and that didn’t leave much time for us totalk. It was an awkward moment as we said good-bye to eachother. I later wrote her a letter, having retrieved her addressfrom a copy of her book that she had given me, but she neverreplied.Considering the distances involved and the time wearrived at our destination, there could have been some missingtime, but I couldn’t say for sure. I hadn’t looked at my watchfor some time before the incident.The enormity of what the ETs had done freaked me out.
164Although I had one other incident that seemed to suggest thatthe Grays could move back and forth in time, this wassomething far more powerful.
Here we were in a stream of cars going the speed limit in a well-lighted approach to one of the longest tunnels in Northern California, when apparently alltraffic in the area was stopped; our car was lifted up into the air,floated over the tunnel, deposited back onto the highway andtime started back up again. It was as if the Grays had a remotecontrol, like the ones for your DVD player at home, that couldpause time itself. Their control unit must be powerful enoughto extend the effect for some distance, though, because we werein bumper-to-bumper traffic when it happened.I wonder if drivers at the periphery of the effect thoughtthere was an accident up ahead, when everything stopped.What of the cars at that very edge of the effect, where driverswere “switched off,” but those behind them weren’t? What didthose drivers see, perhaps an illusion of some kind? Whatwould have happened if a helicopter had flown into the area?The mind boggles! The ETs could have taken Lisa and meseparately, or together at some other less conspicuous locationalong the route we took from the Expo, but for some reason
I woke up one night and looked up at my clock radio to see that the timewas one hour before I had gone to bed. There was a shadowy presencestanding beside my bed and I quickly fell back asleep, even as I ponderedwhat seemed to be an impossibility.
165they wanted to give us both an elaborate demonstration of theirpowers.
Insects in My Face
I had another “dream” that wasn’t a dream where I waslying on my back on a table, with my hands at my side. Iopened my eyes to see that insects of some kind were swarmingaround my groin and I watched them quietly without moving.One of them turned and flew up to my face. I brought myhands up from my side and put them in front of me, in an effortto protect myself from the flying insect.A man for whom I felt great deference came out of theshadows and told me that I must keep my hands down andproceeded to “tuck me in” so that my arms were at my side andI couldn’t move them. I tried to explain to the man, whom Istill couldn’t see very well because he was standing just behindthe periphery of my vision, that I had only been trying toprotect my face from a swarm of flying insects. I thought tomyself that I hoped he understood that I wasn’t at fault, but Iknew that whatever was happening was important and Iendeavored to comply with his wishes and kept my hands downat my side. I remembered thinking to myself, as the dreamended, that I hoped I was strong enough not to panic if thatflying bug were to buzz my face again.
The Flying Van
Yet another “dream” I had. I was standing with a groupof people as we waited for something. Off in the distance wasa pair of headlights. They were coming at us extremely fastand made a wide sweep in the form of an “S” as theyapproached, before the vehicle suddenly stopped in front of us.We were with some short people who seemed to supervise us aswe got into the van. I took the position by the window, behindthe driver’s seat. The seat in front of me was high-backed andthe driver was in shadows so I couldn’t see him. Wheneveryone was inside, the doors shut and we were on our way.After a while, I looked out the window and saw thecity’s light