493 lines
36 KiB
Plaintext
493 lines
36 KiB
Plaintext
SUBJECT: AM I AN ABDUCTEE ? FILE: UFO3036
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AM I AN ABDUCTEE?
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Three weeks ago I went camping with my best friend, the special type
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of friend to whom you can tell anything, no matter how incredible it
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may sound. I had planned the weekend carefully; we spent two nights
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nestled in the heart of an old-growth redwood forest at an
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environmental campsite, far removed from the distractions of our
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ordinary lives and of other noisy campers. Within the secluded comfort
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of our wilderness setting, I proceeded to tell her exactly what was on
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my mind: "I think that I may have been abducted by extraterrestrials!"
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After regaining her composure over the initial shock, she listened as I
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recounted, in depth, the numerous events which led me to consider such
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a preposterous idea. I tried to illuminate my experiences by drawing
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parallels to recent books which had been written on the subject, since
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my friend was totally ignorant in the matter. The campfire near its
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end, my body growing tired after hours of discussion, she left me with
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one basic thought when I had finished my tale: "Books by people like
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Whitley Streiber and Bud Hopkins sell so well because people empathize
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with the main character. They are people who desperately want to
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believe that they too have been a part of the experience, and have
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touched the unknowable." My friend obviously felt that I was deluding
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myself. It is true that I have had a life-long interest in the subject
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of UFOs. I have read a vast number of books written on the subject over
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the past ten years. The first UFO book I'd ever read was in the eighth
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grade, one about George Adamski. Even earlier, in 1969, I was
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preoccupied with drawing pictures of "aliens" during the art period in
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first grade. Stretching back to the earliest limits of my memory, I can
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recall when, in 1964 or '65 at the age of 3, I ran screaming from the
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room in terror as I watched an "alien" on an episode of The Munsters.
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Of interest is that I had never been the least bit scared of any of the
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regular Munster characters, but the sight of an extraterrestrial
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absolutely horrified me. My life has been dotted with minor strange
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anomalies, all of which I have filed away as "unsolved mysteries", and
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forgotten. I usually deal with problems that way. When any conflict
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occurs in my life, I tend to ignore it first, hoping that whatever it
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is will blow over, so I can forget it. If the first step fails, I
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usually try to find a book or two on the subject which might help me.
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When a book doesn't provide me with the necessary tools, I usually
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discuss that problem with a friend. It would seem like I have such a
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problem now, and I am discussing it with you. Something has been eating
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away at me for the past six months or so, and I'm not sure exactly what
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it is. In one semester, my grade point average has dropped from an
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outstanding 3.56 over the past 76.5 semester units in college, to a
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rock bottom 0.00 for the 1990 Spring semester; I failed every class!
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Also, I have taken to drinking far more often than I should. I have
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this fantasy that if I've had a few glasses of wine before I go to bed,
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then I'll be useless to the nocturnal visitors, and they will not
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bother me. That might seem to be the case, because I have never had an
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unusual nocturnal experience after drinking. (Of course I realize that
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there are probably people in New York who are convinced that crossing
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their fingers will keep wild lions away! In other words, my statement
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is an illogical syllogism, in which the premises do not warrant the
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conclusion.) Additionally, my sleeping pattern has changed drastically.
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Over the past six months or so, I have avoided sleeping each night
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until I was utterly exhausted. Currently, I am staying up until abo ut
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5:00 am, and sleeping until 1 pm. Although I desperately need the extra
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income from a Summer job, I have avoided getting one because I knew it
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would mean going back to a normal sleeping schedule. I put to you the
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following dilemma: Has my life-long interest in UFOs finally caused me
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to go off the deep end, whereby I have deluded myself into believing
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that I may have had numerous abduction experiences? Or, have I truly
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been subject to numerous abductions throughout my life, and my way of
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dealing with it has been to investigate the phenomena? At this point in
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time, I would consider either hypothesis equally, but I desperately
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want to know which is the cause, and which is the effect! In the
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following paragraphs I will relate my experiences as accurately and as
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unbiased as I am able. It is my hope that someone reading this will
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provide me with further insights, or that this document will spark
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further investigation, so that I can finally know the ultimate truth
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behind it all, not only for my own peace-of-mind, but for others who
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may be in a similar situation.
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On April 3, 1990 I decided to call on an old friend who I hadn't heard
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from in over two years. My friend, Carolina, is a gifted psychic, and a
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well-kept secret. Santa Rosa has its share of palm-readers and fortune
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tellers, but Carolina is in an entirely different league. A deeply
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spiritual person, Carolina has never sought recognition, publicity, or
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a rep utation for her abilities, nor has she ever taken any money from
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me for her services. I'm not exactly sure why I felt compelled to see
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her that day; I had nothing in particular on my mind. It was a pleasant
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reunion. We chatted for some time, and then Carolina decided to see if
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there was anything "out there" that she could "pick up" for me. She
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proceeded to give me a reading lasting nearly an hour. It must have
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been an exceptionally good day for her, because there was a lot "out
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there" and it was amazingly accurate. Among other things, she told me
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that I had a blood disorder, and that she kept seeing "too much red";
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she sensed that I would be quitting smoking soon, and informed me that
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I would be successful; she told me that my mother was about to fall
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ill; she told me my father might loose a toe due to gangrene; and most
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amazingly, with a surprized and quizzical look on her face, she asked
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me "Have you recently had contact with extraterrestrials?" Up to that
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point, everything she told me had been phrased as a statement, but this
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was apparently so preposterous that even she doubted it, and phrased it
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as a question instead. I was completely taken aback by her query- I
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hadn't thought about aliens or UFOs in years. Caroli na had absolutely
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no idea that it had been a former interest of mine. For a moment time
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seemed to stand still- on the inside, I thought that she was entirely
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off-base, and I was ready to tell her so, but my body seemed to have a
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mind of its own as I watched myself mumble, "I don't know." I still
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wonder why I said that, because it truly betrayed what I was feeling at
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the moment. She immediately answered back by saying, "I think you do
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know, because I'm seeing this very clearly now."
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At that statement, I felt the flush of anger course through my body.
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I felt like a man who had just been told he was about to die, and given
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the exact date. I blurted out, "I don't think you're supposed to be
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telling me this! If you saw that I was going to be killed next week,
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would you tell me that too?" Carolina smiled and said, "They only show
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me what I can tell a person. If you're not meant to know, my guides
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don't show me." My stomach tight and my heart racing, I replied, "But
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don't you think this is a little too scary?" Again smiling, she said,
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"Oh, it's only scary in a fun kind of way." For a moment I thought she
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was being sarcastic. "How could she be so insensitive to my anxiety?",
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I thought. I felt the anger well up from within me again. "Fun!, What
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the hell is so fun about being poked and prodded and violated by
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hideously ugly creatures in the middle of the night!", I thought to
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myself. And then something snapped. I thought to myself, "What in God's
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name am I thinking about? Why has such an innocent statement from
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Carolina caused such fear and anger within me? What is this about being
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poked, prodded, and violated? Where did I get that from? Carolina never
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said anything about that!" And then I realized that my outward
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appearance was betraying my inner anxiety. True to my English blood, I
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appeared quite calm and collected to Carolina, even though my mind and
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heart were racing. She apparently didn't realize the implications and
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consequences of her revelation to me. "This is a first for me," she
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said, "In all my years, I have never picked up anything about
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extraterrestrials from a person." "Surely you have at least read a book
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or two on the subject", I replied. "No, I never have," she said, "It's
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never interested me in the least. There are too many problems down here
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to be worried about what might or might not be going on up there." I
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was amazed. Like a curtain being lifted in my memory, I suddenly
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remembered a night about two weeks prior during which an unusual
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occurrence had happened. It surprized me that I hadn't made the
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connection sooner. I was sure this was what she was referring to! (to
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be discussed in full later) Carolina continued her reading, and didn't
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dwell on the subject of aliens, as if they were relatively unimportant.
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Twice more during that hour, she made reference to them, although she
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had no idea she was doing so. She said she had the image of an insect
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with large eyes, but that it was symbolic, and I would know what it
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meant. (I am sure this is symbolic for an alien.) Later, she made
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reference to "burrowing", but couldn't get anything further. (My gut
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feeling was that this is connected to them also, but I'm not sure why
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or how.) The following week I thought a lot about my visit with
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Carolina as I watched her short term predictions come true one by one.
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Although she had no way of knowing that I was planning on quitting
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smoking, almost a month prior I had consented to participate in a
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clinical study at Stanford Medical Center for the approval of a new
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drug by the FDA. It was a double-blind, placebo vs. real study to test
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the efficacy of the transdermal nicotine patch as a therapy for smoking
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cessation. Requisite to participating in the study, I had a complete
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physical during my first visit on March 28. On April 5, I returned to
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pick up my supply of nicotine patches, but I was shocked to learn that
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I had failed the blood test! Although I was not disqualified from the
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study, Dr. Sachs informed me that I had a condition known as
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"polycythemia", and advised me to see a hematologist. Polycythemia, the
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exact opposite of anaemia, is the condition of having too many red
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blood cells. Although smokers almost always have slightly elevated
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hemoglobin and red cell counts, mine was far too high to be explained
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by such. The doctor explained that it can be caused by spleen
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dysfunction, but, that didn't appear to be my case, as indicated from
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the other test results of my physical. He told me that having too many
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oxygen-carrying red blood cells is usually the result of prolonged
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exposure to thin atmosphere, and that athletes sometimes take illegal
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drugs to achieve such an effect in order to increase their endurance in
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high altitudes (such as in the marathon up Pike's Peak every year.)
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Further, he informed me that my ruddy complexion was most likely due to
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the blood disease. I was shocked! Not only was Carolina correct, but I
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seriously began to wonder if this had anything to do with possible
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alien contact, and "thin atmosphere." For almost a year, friends had
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asking me if I had a sunburn, but I always dismissed it. On Friday,
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April 6, I quit smoking. Later that day my father called me from
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Indiana to inform me that my mother had taken ill, and was in the
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hospital. She had a flare-up of her mitral valve heart condition, a
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bladder infection, and an extreme case of shingles. During our
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conversation, my father told me that he wasn't doing so well himself;
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he has diabetes, and his big toe had turned completely black!
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"OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod...", my mind was reeling, "how could Carolina be
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so correct about everything!", I thought to myself, "If she has been
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right about everything so far, what am I to think about her claim that
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I have been in contact with extraterrestrials?" As I have mentioned
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earlier in this paper, during my visit with Carolina I suddenly
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remembered a night, sometime in March, where there had been an unusual
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occurrence. I can't recall exactly what day it was, but Jim, my lover
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and companion of ten years, confronted me as soon as he had awoken,
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"You haven't gone out this morning for anything, have you?" "No,
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honey," Ireplied, still dressed in my nightshirt and sitting at the
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computer, "does it look like it?" "Well the door is unlocked," he
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informed me. I got up immediately, and Jim demonstrated that both the
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dead bolt and the doorknob latch were undone. I thought about the
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matter for a few moments and said "Are you sure you didn't open it when
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you got up? I remember double checking it before I went to bed, and it
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was already locked." Jim replied, "I remember checking it before I went
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to bed also, and it was locked then too." After a few moments he added,
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"It's possible that I may have unlocked the dead bolt without thinking,
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but that wouldn't explain why the doorknob latch is undone." (The door
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handle has to be turned to open the door from the inside before the
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doorknob latch is undone, and we never open the front door in the
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morning until we're ready to go out, since we do not subscribe to any
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newspapers. If for some reason we want to check on the weather, we
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always open the sliding balcony door. Neither Jim or I would think of
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opening the front door while still in our nightclothes.) The matter was
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out of my mind within a few minutes, but Jim was not about to let the
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subject drop. He made me call the manager that afternoon to ask if they
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or any maintenance people had been in our apartment without our
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consent. The manager assured me that they had not, and said that they
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would always consult us before such an intrusion. Jim became obsessed
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with the matter, and forced me to recreate every step I had taken the
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night before. After all the thinking he made me do, I just became more
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sure that I had checked the lock at night, and certainly had not opened
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it in the morning. Before going to bed the next night, Jim stacked two
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spare stereo speakers up against the front door, so that if someone
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were to open it, they would come tumbling down and alert him. Jim is a
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very light sleeper; he had served in the armed forces during the
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Vietnam War, and his father was a policeman, which may help to explain
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why the thought of someone breaking into our apartment bothered him so
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much. I also noticed that he made sure the baseball bat was within
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reach of the bed that night. The following morning, I awoke first. I
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stumbled out of bed and headed for the computer, my morning ritual.
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Along the way to the den, I noticed that the stereo speakers Jim had so
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carefully set out the night before were strewn across the floor. I
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guess the seriousness of the situation didn't hit me at first. It took
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me a few minutes before I decided to go back into the front room and
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check the lock. One would think that I should have been alarmed at the
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prospect of someone breaking in, but honestly, my thoughts were only
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about how alarmed Jim was going to be when he discovered the situation.
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I checked the door, and it was locked. I told myself that the speakers
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had somehow accidentally fallen over in the night, and I stacked them
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back up again, hoping that I could conceal it from Jim.
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I returned to the computer, but couldn't concentrate on what I was
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doing; my conscience was bothering me. Jim and I have an extremely open
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and honest relationship, much more so than any married couple I've ever
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met. I went back out and put the speakers as I had found them, deciding
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to let him know the truth. I'm not sure what Jim really thought. He
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found it hard to accept that the speakers had fallen over without his
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hearing them. Further, he questioned why the door was locked from the
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inside, and yet the speakers had been knocked over. He thought my
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behavior was particularly odd, in that I had initially tried to conceal
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the fallen speakers, but then put them back as I had found them. At any
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rate, we never discussed the subject again, and I was glad! I just
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wanted to forget about the whole thing. Every night for several weeks,
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Jim jammed the plastic runner up against the front door, but nothing
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else unusual happened. Sometime later that week, I developed a somewhat
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painful subcutaneous pimple in my pubic hair region. I didn't think
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much about it at the time, except that I had never had a pimple in that
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area before, nor one as deep below the skin and as painful. I forgot
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all about this until just recently, on July 19, when I developed
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another pimple in the same area, just after another unusual nocturnal
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experience. It took me some time before I could accurately place a
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time-frame on the occurrence of my first pimple. April 11, I flew out
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to Chicago to visit my mother in the hospital, and forced my father to
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have his bad toe looked at. Sometime while I was away, Jim stopped
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protecting the door every night and eventually forgot about it. I
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returned home April 18, just in time to greet our house-guest from Los
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Angeles, our good friend, Dave. During his visit with us, I took Dave
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aside and told him of the strange events in March, and of what Carolina
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had said. I convinced him to try and hypnotize me, so that I might be
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able to recall the event s more clearly. It took a great deal of
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persuasion to talk him into it, since he said that he had no experience
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at hypnosis, and was not eager to try. Nevertheless, he eventually gave
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in, but we had mixed results at the effort. Nothing of interest really
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occurred, except that the following morning I felt really negative
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about the whole thing and destroyed the tape-recorded transcript of my
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hypnosis session. I didn't remember what I had said, and at that point,
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I didn't want to either. I never admitted to Dave what had happened to
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the tape. Before he left for Los Angeles, Dave warned me that anything
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I might try to find out about my possible abduction experience would
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most likely be contaminated by all the books I've read. Life went on
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more-or-less as usual for the next several months. I resumed smoking
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again, my performance at school dropped sharply, and I started drinking
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before going to bed. When Summer came, I avoided getting a job, and
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stayed up later and later every night. I tried to put the subject of
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UFOs out of my mind, but only with marginal success. My attitude on the
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subject fluctuated from wishing that I could forget it all, to openly
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inviting another experience. Twice I purposefully went camping in
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extremely remote areas, hoping that I could induce an abduction.
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Needless to say, my effort was futile (at least as far as I can
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remember.) If aliens were abducting me, then they had their own
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schedule, and my invitation didn't matter one bit. Then on July 17, it
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happened again. I had been plagued by an uneasy feeling all evening. I
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thought about having a glass of wine, but Jim coaxed me into bed early
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that night (around 2 am), telling me we needed to get up by a decent
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hour the next day. I am normally a very heavy sleeper, and I fall
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asleep quickly, but that night was to be an exception. I laid in bed,
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tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, never truly falling
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asleep. I can recall listening to the slow, deep rhythm of Jim's
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breathing pattern, and being surprised that my restlessness wasn't
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disturbing him. The last thing I remember is the sensation of my heart
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pounding rapidly as I was overcome with extreme fear. And then
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suddenly, it was light out! A thought entered my head, but before I
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could think further, "Rap Rap Rap", three loud bangs resounded
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throughout the apartment, causing me to fear that we were in the midst
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of another earthquake. I looked at the clock, and was shocked to
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discover that it was already after 6 am. Whatever that first thought
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was, it was completely lost in the immediate confusion. I became aware
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that my bladder was painfully full, and gently got up so as to not
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awaken Jim, who was still sleeping soundly beside me. When I returned
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to bed, Jim asked me what I was doing up already. Apparently, as silent
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as I had been, my movement had awoken him, even though the three loud
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bangs had not. Further, I questioned why my earlier restlessness had
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not disturbed his sleep, but this had. I haven't had to get up to empty
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my bladder in the middle of the night since childhood, and I began to
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wonder why it was so extremely full, especially considering that I
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hadn't had anything to drink the night before. I was sure that I had
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never actually fallen asleep, but yet I seemed to "wake up", with the
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sun already shining. I put on my night-mask to block out the daylight,
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and returned to bed. And then I remembered something... With the
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clarity equal to any image seen through my own eyes, I beheld the
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likeness of an alien. In my mind's eye, I held that vision and examined
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it. As I inspected the roundness of his hairless cranium, I became
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amazed at how real and three-dimensional the image looked, much more
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than any photograph could ever approach. I observed the color of his
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skin, and was quite surprized to learn that my previous conceptions
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were all wrong. My earlier ideas of what an alien should look like were
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based upon the dust jacket of Whitley Strieber's book, Communion, and
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on the TV movie about The Interrupted Journey. His skin was a creamy
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grey, much less grey than I had previously imagined. There was a tinge
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of green, but as subtle as the green in a black person's complexion. I
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thought to myself that an unsophisticated eye might not even pick up on
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the green. Overall, I would describe his complexion as simply pale.
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Only if I wished to emphasize its unusual nature, would I use the word
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"grey." Then I focussed upon his eyes. In the past, we had two pet
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cockatoos, a Moluccan and a Sulpher-crested, both of which had eyes as
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black as coal. It is said that the birds can be sexed by examining
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their eyes for the subtle hint of brown, and I thought of the many
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times I had stared intently into the birds' eyes. It was like a feeling
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of deja' vu, for I was sure that within the alien's eyes, I could pick
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up some extremely subtle gradations of color. Furthermore, these ever-
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so-sublte variations in the color seemed to indicate not just one
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circular iris within each eye, but perhaps two or more, although I
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somehow "knew" that their eyes were more than just visual organs, and
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the non-primary circular markings were not really a visual iris.
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(...that they had only one real visual iris within each eye)
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Additionally, it struck me at how the eyes were far less almond- shaped
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and less wrap-around than I had thought before. It made me think that
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the illustration of an alien on Communion was analogous to the Kroft
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puppeteer's version of Ronald Reagan: a highly stylized caricature.
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Then the image came to life! The thought was somehow conveyed to me
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that he was acknowledging the presence of orthodontic braces on my
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teeth. In a manner analogous to "I've seen yours, so now I'll show you
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mine," he proceeded to open up his little round mouth and let me look
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in. When his nearly lip-less mouth was shut, it seemed to call no
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attention to itself, but when opened, I noticed that he, like us, had
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muscles beneath the skin. The effect of seeing the tightened muscles
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beneath his skin made me think that he was capable of expression, in an
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otherwise expressionless face. Within the mouth, I observed a
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semicircular ridge of hardened tissue, which he called his "primary
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mastication NOUN."
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|
It seemed like he was using telepathy to communicate, and my mind was
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|
responsible for translations into the English language. The "NOUN"
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|
carried a meaning like "organ", "appendage", or "device," but the exact
|
|
word to convey the true meaning is not within my vocabulary, and it's
|
|
making me very frustrated as I write this. I somehow seemed to "know"
|
|
that they eat very soft foods, like being a vegetarian in England. The
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|
hardened ridge of tissue was unsegmented, unlike ordinary human teeth.
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|
With that, the image faded from my mind. What has taken me two long
|
|
paragraphs to write happened in only a few seconds of time. The image
|
|
was definitely a memory, and not something that was happening at that
|
|
moment. Whether the memory is of a dream or reality, I will probably
|
|
never know. After recalling the unusual experience above, the feeling
|
|
of contentedness overwhelmed me. My bladder now empty and Jim's warm
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|
body next to mine, I immediately fell soundly asleep. I didn't wake up
|
|
until after 11 am the following morning, and was relieved that I had
|
|
finally (post 6 am) been able to get a normal night's sleep. Fully
|
|
cognizant of the aforementioned experience, I immediately proceeded to
|
|
the computer and wrote everything down. While sit ting at the keyboard
|
|
and unconsciously scratching at my dandruff patch, I became aware that
|
|
my dandruff was severely aggravated, and I had a painful welt next to
|
|
it! For about a year, more-or-less coinciding with people telling me
|
|
that I had a sunburn (polycythemia), I have had a localized patch of
|
|
dandruff at the base of my skull. More specifically, if you run your
|
|
finger up along the cervical vertebrae, you will reach a slight
|
|
concavity between two muscles at the point where the neck meets the
|
|
head, in the occipital region of the cranium. It is in that spot that I
|
|
have my dandruff patch. I use the word "dandruff", for lack of
|
|
something better, because it is most likely some other skin disorder,
|
|
since I have an otherwise oily scalp . I have tried every name-brand
|
|
dandruff shampoo, and nothing seems to help, but fortunately, it hasn't
|
|
spread beyond that highly localized area. On this day, July 18, and for
|
|
several days afterward, the patch seemed to be draining some sort of
|
|
fluid from the painful welt which was just above and to the left of my
|
|
patch. As of this writing, (August 7), that welt has not entirely
|
|
subsided. On July 19, the following day, I developed another painful
|
|
welt on the right side of the dandruff patch, almost a mirror image.
|
|
Coinciding again with the development of my dandruff patch and my
|
|
polycythemia, for about a year I have been plagued by excessive
|
|
perspiration. For no apparent reason, I would sweat from my armpits in
|
|
phenomenal amounts.
|
|
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|
Neither nervousness, heat, nor physical exertion seemed to be
|
|
responsible. All of my good shirts are permanently stained. When my
|
|
armpits were on a roll, the sweat would pour forth at a rate roughly
|
|
equal to that achieved by crying; perhaps between 4 to 8 ounces in a
|
|
half hour. This had been an embarrassing situation for me for quite
|
|
some time, and when I mentioned it to Carolina during my visit with
|
|
her, she told me that I should drink the juice of a whole lemon in warm
|
|
water every day. I tried that a few times without noticeable success,
|
|
so I gave up. I had also invested a small fortune in a vast array of
|
|
brand-name antiperspirants, but to no avail. Now suddenly, on July 18,
|
|
the perspiration stopped, however I didn't realize as such until July
|
|
19. Whether this is psychosomatic or real, I will be eternally grateful
|
|
that my sweating ordeal is finally over! Thank you!!! On July 19, I
|
|
developed a rather painful pimple, deep below the skin in my pubic hair
|
|
region. It struck me as really strange that I should develop another
|
|
one in that same general area, so shortly after my first. Prior to the
|
|
first, which I placed at a few months earlier, I had never had anything
|
|
like that. My skin in that area is nothing like the skin on my forehead
|
|
or upper back, which tends to be more oily. Furthermore, this was not
|
|
an ordinary pimple; it was very deep and painful. For most of the rest
|
|
of the day, I tried to place a time-frame on the occurrence of the
|
|
first pimple. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that it had happened
|
|
sometime in mid to late March, using my journal and computer calendar
|
|
as a reference. I found this as somewhat noteworthy, since that
|
|
coincided with my first unusual nocturnal experience. Sometime during
|
|
the next few days, the Goodyear Blimp flew over. I was sitting at the
|
|
computer when Jim called me into the front room, bringing it to my
|
|
attention. I would say that the event was slightly unusual, because
|
|
I've never seen the blimp this far removed from a major metropolitan
|
|
area; we're about 50 miles north of San Francisco. It was travelling
|
|
from the Southeast to the Northwest, heading directly toward us at a
|
|
leisurely pace. I ran and grabbed the camcorder and recorded it as the
|
|
blimp proceeded to fly directly over us. We could clearly hear the
|
|
whirring of its engines as it passed our exact zenith. I am not
|
|
exaggerating when I say directly over us! We both wondered where it
|
|
might be going to, for at its present course, it w ould be over the
|
|
ocean in a matter of minutes, and the nearest major city north of us is
|
|
Portland OR, nearly 600 miles away. I'm sure this event can be
|
|
explained rationally, but I decided to mention it because of its
|
|
unusual nature, and the proximity in time to my strange nocturnal
|
|
event.
|
|
|
|
-----------------------
|
|
|
|
During the course of writing this document, I have had several
|
|
flashbacks to strange memories. In one memory, I seem to be quite
|
|
frustrated that I can't see as clearly as I'd like, because I'm not
|
|
wearing my eyeglasses. I thought this was taking place in an alien
|
|
craft. In another memory, I seemed to be getting a lecture about the
|
|
anatomical differences between the alien's brain and ours. He was very
|
|
interested in a small part of my brain, lying at its center, which he
|
|
described as "primitive." I think it may have had something to do with
|
|
emotion, and they didn't have that part of the brain. In contrast, he
|
|
showed me an image of a part of their brain which we do not have; it
|
|
was an extra small lobe in the occipital region, overlying both right
|
|
and left hemispheres equally. I have the feeling that it was used for
|
|
communication. I don't know how old these memories are, and I don't kno
|
|
w if they're memories of dreams or of reality. I am beginning to
|
|
seriously doubt my sanity. As I had written earlier, my life has been
|
|
dotted with minor strange anomalies, most of which I have filed away as
|
|
"unsolved mysteries", and forgotten.
|
|
|
|
I have several early memories, centering around the age of three,
|
|
which might be suggestive of an early abduction experience. Then around
|
|
the time I reached puberty, a lot of strange things started happening.
|
|
There have also been a few occurrences during my high school years and
|
|
continuing into adulthood. A summary of these anomalous experiences
|
|
will be the subject of a future essay. I want to stress my honesty
|
|
about everything contained within this narrative. I have neither
|
|
fabricated or exaggerated a single word of the experience. I consider
|
|
myself to be a happy, well adjusted individual. I have a small circle
|
|
of close friends, and a healthy family life. I am normally a high
|
|
achiever both at work, and in school. I try to balance my intellectual
|
|
lifestyle with a healthy proportion of outdoor physical activities. I
|
|
have never needed the services of a psychologist, and there is no
|
|
history of mental illness in my family. It has only been within the
|
|
past few months that my life seems to be slipping downhill. I would
|
|
like to resolve this situation by reaching some conclusion as to the
|
|
reality of my experiences, so I can get on with my life. I would like
|
|
to know if I am going crazy, perhaps due to some undiscovered br ain
|
|
tumor, or if this could possibly be real. This essay is a desperate
|
|
plea for help. If there are any qualified UFO researchers,
|
|
psychologists, or otherwise interested parties who feel like my case
|
|
warrants further investigation, and would like to help me come to terms
|
|
with my experiences, I can be reached at:Chris Sargent(707) 585-
|
|
8076WWIV Net: 82@7706I reserve all rights to this essay. No part of it
|
|
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written
|
|
permission of the author. I hereby grant permission for the electronic
|
|
transfer of this file to other Electronic Bulletin Board Systems,
|
|
provided that this file remains unaltered and intact.
|
|
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**********************************************
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* THE U.F.O. BBS - http://www.ufobbs.com/ufo *
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********************************************** |