Sunday, July 17, 2022

Part 5 The Keepers An Alien Message for the Human Race ... An Adventure on Board ...This Way, Please ... The Gift ... Human or Alien? ... Diamond in the Sky

The Keepers 
An Alien Message 
for the Human Race 
Jim Sparks
Chapter 16
An Adventure on Board
This relaxed time probably made me less eager to search out other contactees and abductees. Probably I was just recovering and lying low for a bit. In any case, when I did finally start going to the meetings in 1994, I realized I could help lots of people with fragmented memories simply because mine were pretty complete. Conversely, I found people there who could help me with my experiences. There were solid people in this group — people like Don Watkins, a law enforcement state supervisor, and Daved Rubien, an engineer and investor. 

Don Watkins is a short, cocky guy — a muscular fellow in his fifties who looks like a cop in every way — steely eyes, short hair, and hard-looking. From the first, I could pretty much peg his main fault. Don was the high-machismo sort — heavy on ego and personal power. However, around me he was pretty much a puppy dog and we got along great. We both knew the alien abduction phenomenon was real. His memories of it all were fragmented. Sometimes they were clear, but mostly he found in me a way to get in touch with what he couldn’t remember. He became one of my best friends. 

If God is the master of the Universe, David Rubien is the soul of the Earth. He’s a tall guy, filled with health and compassion, love and comfort. I guess you could say that David was the emotional stabilizer for all of us abductees. If we called any time day or night, he was there for us. A financial success in a big way, Davids smart and sharp as a tack. He is a very caring guy who has made a real difference in my life. 

Two years after my rough experience in 1992, I found support in that group for my grief and shock. A couple named Courtney and Steve Wood had had a similar experience. They were a good-looking couple with Southern drawls in their mid-forties. They were both in the banking business — very responsible, solid folk. Courtney was blonde and lovely, and everything about Steve spelled strength, both physically and emotionally. 

The bad thing for Teresa and me was that while we still were married, we were not as close as we had once been. In early 1992, she missed two periods. Now this was odd, because while we did have sex, it wasn’t that often. Plus, when we did get intimate in this way, we used birth control. Pregnant? Surely not. Still, she went to the doctor, and it didn’t take long to determine that yes, indeed, she was expecting. My first thought was that she must have been having an affair. As we had serious marital problems, I almost half-expected this, but my Italian jealousy was checked by practicality and compassion. She assured me, though, that this wasn’t the case. I must be the father, she stated. 

“Well,” I thought, “I could always check the DNA later.” Still, with my having seen both Teresa and my “daughter” on the alien craft, I got a sick feeling about the whole thing. So I just took it day by day. A part of me said, “Be cautious.” 

At the end of her third month, Teresa went for a check-up and was just fine. That evening though, she woke up in great pain. I rushed her to the emergency room at Lee Memorial Hospital in Fort Myers. I waited with her in one of the small examination rooms for a staff doctor. He asked me to leave so he could run some tests, so I waited in the hall. An hour later, he came out to say that Teresa would be fine. There was only one problem, though. While she definitely had been pregnant, with a fetal sack and all, there was now no fetus inside. He held up an ultrasound photograph with a uterus, a sack, and no fetus. 

He explained that although this was a quality picture here in his hands, the fetus might not be showing for some reason. It had happened before. “If your wife was still in pain, I would take more intrusive and extensive tests. These tests are a little riskier and quite expensive. She seems to be doing just fine, so I don’t see the point in disturbing her any further. If the pain happens again, bring her back in here and we’ll do other tests.” 

My stomach sank down to about ankle level. The baby was gone. I was convinced that the aliens had taken it. I was absolutely sure that this was all a part of their plan for her. My wife had a miscarriage, sure enough, the next day in fact, and there was no actual fetus in the expelled material. The doctor assured me that this sometimes happened, that the body sometimes absorbed a faulty fetus. The first trimester was the riskiest part of the pregnancy span, and I researched the situation. Everything he said was true. It did happen. This could well be perfectly possible, but I had a gut feeling that the aliens had taken it. 

Indeed, when I mentioned this feeling at the meetings I went to during 1994, my friend Courtney mentioned that she’d had several pregnancies where she was positive the aliens abducting her had taken the child just at this point. Even as she declared this, another woman named Hillary said she’d had the exact same experience. Another abductee, Shirley, said, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find this is a common phenomenon among female abductees.” In these cases as well, although there had been sex, there was surprise at the pregnancy. I was heartbroken about the miscarriage. Although we hadn’t planned on a child, the idea of me being a father had not seemed to be a bad one at all. In fact, I’d rather liked the idea. I felt a real loss — a real sadness. Eventually, the pain for both of us wore off. 

Two years crept by, with only occasional abductions. Then on March 7, 1994, everything changed. That was the day I took that walk on the beach with the alien in the 1940’s suit, and the day I got my wish to roam about one of their craft, which is where I started this book — on the ship, free to roam, having been brought on board the easy way — that is, the way you or I might board a passenger jet. I was still pretty awestruck. I thought I would have been prepared, but I really wasn’t. By now you probably understand why, although I was frightened at finding an alien in human disguise making like Humphrey Bogart, I wasn’t totally surprised. With the Visitors you expect the unexpected. But I must say, I was pretty shocked to find myself with free rein of the ship that night. 

After that walk to the beach, though, with all the sensory aspects of reality — the breezes, the sea oats, the vivid sea smells — there could be no doubt that this was indeed all truly happening, including that ship hanging there above the sea. It was real as real can be! As you may recall I was left alone in an examination room with the door open. I walked and explored, and I was stunned at what I found in the room where I ended up. 

I’d been hoping for just this opportunity for years. Now, though, with what was spread out before me, I wasn’t so sure I should have ventured out into the ship. There were creatures, things, fifteen or twenty of them. I don’t know the exact number, because I was too shaken up to count. They were on the kind of examination table that I’d just departed, on their backs, covered by thin blankets or sheets pulled up to their necks. They were like the worker aliens but a little more human, which actually made them all the more alien. Their heads were bigger than the workers’. They had no hair, no eyebrows or eyelids and smooth faces. I had the sense they were female, although they had no breasts. They were just lying there, not looking so much asleep or dead, but more like they had been turned off. 

I don’t know what came over me, a surge of horror, or an incredible realization of what I was involved with. Routine had turned into raw dread and fear. As soon as I got my voice, I started screaming. I backed up against the wall and just let it rip. My terror was suddenly mitigated by the perceived presence of a Supervisor. I could feel him behind me, and I almost welcomed the arrival of this familiarity. My body became paralyzed, and I felt a river of calm flow over me from the alien. Then, my reality altered. Something reached inside my mind and — click! — a projection of a different view of the room developed. It was screen imaging. It rippled over this screen image, and suddenly the strange beings lying on the tables were beautiful women. This image somehow relaxed me. They turned and looked at me, but these women I also thought were shut down or dead. They all had exactly the same kind of makeup and hairstyles, sort of ludicrously glamorous. One spoke to me. 

“We’re not dead, Jim,” she said.

I was still frightened, but not in any kind of panicky way, and then, mercifully, I just blacked out. When I got back my consciousness, I was on an examination table myself, lying on my back, propped up at a forty five degree angle. A worker stood by, and a Supervisor stood right next to my leg. 

I felt no paralysis. A thought occurred to me that I could just kick the bastard because he’s so close, but it was just a whim. I realized immediately that I wouldn’t do such a thing on purpose. Although I was angry, I didn’t want to harm anyone or anything, and I sure didn’t want to get myself in trouble with these things that had such power over me. I realized then that I was naked, even as one of the workers put a too-familiar apparatus over my groin. Oh, boy! Semen extraction again. I was far from thrilled. It’s difficult to tell you how abusive this felt. 

The Supervisor sensed my apprehension and I could feel the screen image percolating. He looked over toward a doorway, and two very attractive young women entered the room, petite with beautiful dark hair and skin-tight blue jeans. The mere sight of them bore a shock straight to the old reptile brain of Jim Sparks. They were almost a parody of what I liked in beautiful women — clearly these beings could read every centimeter of my mind. One even wore the kind of silver and turquoise jewelry I find attractive on women. They seemed so real.... One of them ran her fingers through my hair and stroked my face. She turned to the other woman who was staring down adoringly at me and said, “My, isn’t he handsome!” 

Well, that proved they weren’t real! Still, it was easy to fall into the illusion. They stroked me and gave me pleasure and then a warm mild electrical shock coursed through my testicles and I ejaculated. This shook off the spell, and the sense of abuse came over me again. 

“This isn’t natural!” I yelled. 

Almost reflexively, I jerked away and tried to get away, and my leg kicked up hard into the Supervisor beside me. This startled me as much as it did him. The two women beside me vanished into thin air. I fell back onto the table, upset and maybe even contrite, but I noticed that all signs of any kind of reality overlay had been smacked away. Gone were all the false images. The Supervisor suddenly seemed frail, atrophied. His large head was a mass of wrinkles, like those of some very old man. 

And I got an incredible jumble of thought beams projected at me from him! How could you do that to me? You know better! You should have known better. I trusted you. You betrayed my trust in you. You betrayed my trust in you. You disappointed us. Did you try to disappoint us? You did this on purpose. You tried to hurt me. Why would you want to hurt me? Don’t you know this is bad? On and on in a gush, a stream, a mind-blast. 

A hundred of these phrases ripped out, complete with emotion. I felt and heard each and every phrase clearly — all in one second! I was numbed. Laying back on the table, I knew I’d never forget how those ancient, strange eyes had looked at me. Acceleration. Why the hard way again? That, after all, was the way they’d brought me here this time. Onto the moonlit beach, then directly on board. Maybe they just couldn’t deal with me.

Back in the quiet pre-dawn hours at my beach home, I felt exhausted, overcome and of two minds about this whole experience. On one hand, I was elated. I’d been able to explore their ship a bit. I was moving forward. I’d had a different experience. At the same time, I felt depressed. Maybe I’d blown the whole thing. Maybe I’d failed a test. Of course, even if I’d hurt the Supervisor, it wasn’t badly. And since they knew me through and through, they must have known I didn’t intend to hurt him. And even then, they knew they were doing things to me that I felt were abusive and I was simply reacting to them. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that although there was a strong possibility I’d taken a big step forward after six and a half years of confusion, there had been a bit of a slip. The big relief at this point was that it was 1994, not 1989. I had someone to share all this with — Tim, and the group. Maybe I’d share it with them later, I thought, as I eased off to sleep with those images of the creature-things on the examination table fading away into dreams. 

“I was taking these changes better,” I thought, as I finally fell asleep. It was still culture shock, yes, but something inside me was tough now and trained to take this mental and emotional punishment.

Chapter 17
This Way, Please
Pine resin. I smelled the sharp smell of trees and the bitter taste of dead leaves, moss, weeds and ocean, with a touch of swamp. I was in the woods, a deciduous forest of some sort, it seems, with just a touch of a cool breeze. There were oaks and pines beneath an overcast night sky. I stood in a large clearing. What was I doing here? I didn’t recall at first... but then I remembered the whirl and rush of acceleration. This was an abduction, but I had been brought here instead of on board a craft. “Details,” I told myself. “I have to remember details.” 

By now, of course, I realized how important it was that I cling to my memories, as most abductees I’d met had had a hard time with that. If my experiences could help others, or accomplish something, then the pain of my experiences would count toward others’ learning — maybe even help humankind. This kind of thinking wasn’t actually purely altruistic. Frankly, it helped me keep my sanity. Okay. Details.... 

The clearing where I stood was maybe half the size of a football field. There was more than the breeze sighing through the tree branches, though. There was the dreadful sound of people crying and moaning. Alarmed, I looked down. There were maybe fifteen people sprawled on the ground around my feet. I turned at another sound, and saw that there was also a young man standing to my right. The people on the ground were both men and women. Most of them were in their nightclothes; a few were nude. The guy to my right, though, wore a short-sleeve white dress shirt, dark dress slacks and leather shoes. He had dark hair and medium build. Although he was standing, he was paralyzed, except that he could speak. He was panicked, and he murmured, “The last thing I remember was driving home in my car....” The people on the ground had clearly been abducted from their sleep. They lay paralyzed, disoriented but completely conscious. There was an exception: a blonde-haired woman in the group was in fetal position, rocking back and forth on the ground and screaming uncontrollably, only partially paralyzed. For some reason, I was calm. 

As my eyes adjusted to the dark pools around me, I could see that about twenty yards to the left, another dozen people were sprawled on the ground. Above them stood an alien. Twenty yards to the left of that group were another dozen or so people. Detail: Three piles of disoriented people in a clearing, barely dressed or naked. I was determined to remember this. The young man standing by me was losing control, shrieking terribly. An alien appeared beside me, and I heard his telepathic communication: “CALM HIM.” 

“Me?” I said. “Are you giving me a job?” 

Again the alien said, “CALM HIM.” 

As he seemed truly bent out of shape and I certainly understood what that could be like, I figured I should at least try. Although I doubted my efficacy in the matter, I grabbed his arm and said, “You’ll be okay.” 

“I feel sick,” he said. “My stomach is... sick!” 

“That’s normal after just being transported,” I told him, trying to sound reassuring. “It happens to me all the time, but it quickly passes.” 

“I’m so scared,” he said. 

“Yes. I know how that feels. The same thing happened to me. Try hard not be scared. You’ll be just fine. You’ll be okay.” 

I continued my soothing words. He began to calm down. I was truly astonished that I could do this. The blonde woman on the ground seemed to be even more distraught now, though, rocking back and forth. Then the alien said, “CALM HER.” 

I could move. I realized then what was happening, I was being trusted again. I hadn’t blown it when I’d freaked and kicked the Supervisor alien. I leaned over and placed my hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You’ll  be okay. They’ll take you aboard their ship and teach you things. A new alphabet. Numbers. Symbols.” 

“NO! YOU ARE TELLING HER TOO MUCH. JUST CALM HER!” 

I continued to do my best to soothe her with calming words. As I talked to her, I heard others on the ground moaning and crying in fear. I felt overwhelmed. One of the people cried, “Look! The ships! They’re coming!” I looked up. Above us were three balls of light, glowing within the low clouds. One streaked from the horizon to hover just above us, as though on cue. The others followed. Then, majestically, one descended. 

For all the stuff you see in movies or pictures, being there in the flesh makes all the difference in actually experiencing them. This was the case with this vessel, this thing that others might call a UFO. Silently and gracefully it descended in gorgeous, magnificent splendor. Its beauty took my breath away. It was a large metallic sphere with a streamlined dome. The egg-shaped bottom, slightly out of proportion with the rest of the ship, lowered. I saw windows containing the silhouettes of humanoids. Some figures stared down at us, others scurried about. The most astounding thing of all was the light radiating from the bottom — intensely bright white with a bluish hue. 

I was witnessing some sort of mass abduction in process. I was spellbound by the sight. I walked forward a few feet, trying to get closer. The second ship came down and hovered further down the field. The third ship did the same, hovering above the final group. I thought maybe I’d been trained for just such a moment. I tried to signal the ships in the symbology I had learned, tracing it in the air. I blacked out. 

When I awoke, I found myself in a large foyer. Beside me was the group of people I’d stood among, totally zombied-out. 

“LEAD THEM.” 

There was only one way to go. I headed down a corridor and sure enough, these people followed. The hallway felt like something on a ship, it felt familiar. At the end of it was a huge room buzzing with activity. Inside there were rows and rows of computer monitors, each fronted with seats and a work desk. There were already some people in the front. Each of the monitors displayed the same picture. It reminded me of a NASA control room or a TV salesroom. 

“SEAT THEM.” 

I did my best. It seemed automatic almost, the way I was familiar with this whole set up. These guys were a class of many, though, and I’d always been a class of one. Even as I put them into their seats one by one, I noted the monitors going blank. It was rather nice knowing exactly what I was supposed to do and performing my function competently. Soon my group was all seated. As soon as the last person was down, I blacked out again. I reawakened to discover myself in a chair. “Gee,” I thought, “all they needed to do was to tell me to sit, and I would have done it.” Or maybe not. I had been scanning the whole room, getting curious again. 

On my screen and the screens of those around me erupted a color image showing a vibrant green forest with old-growth trees, backed by mountains in the background, with a clear, crisp blue sky. All this was majestically beautiful, as were the following images: a clear lake, a fantastic waterfall, a rain forest, settings of nature here on planet Earth. I lost my objectivity and became mesmerized. I felt the intense fabulousness of it all. 

It was like an amazing slideshow. We all got a few seconds of each image and then it moved onward, like a View Master experience supreme. But then, the scenes began to repeat. Blemishes began to appear in the scenes. Brown foam in the lakes and rivers. Blackened waste in the forest. Skies became nasty and gray. I felt a depression weigh upon me. Then: dead fish, bloated and floating in the turgid mess in a lake. Such was the change from elation to depression that I couldn’t look any more. 

“YOU ARE KILLING YOUR PLANET!” said the Voice inside my head. “YOUR PLANET IS DYING.” 

At the bottom edge of each image was a symbol. To combat the depression I felt, I started trying to translate these alien symbols — cataloging symbols, I supposed. 

“NO!” 

I can’t tell you how emphatic and truthful this environmental message was. I felt it with every fiber of my biology. True, so true, and yet I tried to deny it, focusing on the symbols as the images spun out their awful story. I blacked out. 

On the other side of unconsciousness, I was in a smaller room, rather like a locker room, complete with benches. My group of people surrounded me, all naked, all showing fresh scars from surgical procedures, usually concave pieces of flesh removed from forearms or calves. These wounds, I remembered from the support group and my own experience heal, often showing no lasting scar, but the people in the group were whimpering with terror. An alien walked in and told me, 

“CALM THEM.” 

I did the best I could. but my words did seem to help. Then another alien entered. “FIND AND PUT ON YOUR OWN CLOTHES.” You’d think that, as orderly as the aliens are, the clothes would be neatly folded and stacked. Alas, no — they were mixed up and thrown all over, but the great task of finding and covering their nakedness helped put aside any panic. That was it. My job was done, and soon, after acceleration. 

I was back on my familiar sofa, but this time I felt different, even good. I felt an odd enjoyment of the experience, and an accomplishment. I felt as though I had a place in whatever strange scheme was happening. Unfortunately, there was one problem: My right eye was sore. I didn’t remember bumping it, but that meant nothing. I’d conked out a lot on this last abduction and could have hit a few things, but there were also those bright lights. My next thought was about Tim, and how glad I was that I was going to be able to share this with him. 

My eye was still hurting when I saw him, but we were too excited about this whole experience to discuss my eye problem or go to a doctor. Tim was so thrilled with my story that he insisted that I let him hook me up with Budd Hopkins. “You have to meet Budd,” he said. “This is much too important.” 

I agreed. I was starting to see more of how I fit into all this, and how I had to share with more people other than just the group. There was a reason behind all this. My eye continued to hurt. I saw a doctor. He gave me  eye drops, which helped to soothe and heal the eye in a matter of days. But I’ll never forget his question after examining me. 

“Has this eye been exposed to bright lights recently?”

Chapter 18
The Gift
I’d heard of Budd Hopkins, of course, from other members of the group. I didn’t read his books, as people suggested I might, because even then I had the sense that I had a unique mission and view of the whole alien scenario, one that I was just working out. I honestly feel, and still feel to a lesser extent, that reading too much other material will sully and confuse my memories. Mary Anne, one of the members of my alien support abduction group agreed with Tim that I should talk with Budd. More than that, she knew an easy way to contact him. She had a summer home in Cape Cod, close to where Hopkins spent the month of August each year. She knew him well and invited me to stay with her and meet Budd there. 

Hopkins had spent 17 years studying alien abduction phenomena and had figured importantly in Whitley Strieber’s exposure of the whole business to national media attention through Communion. He had written the best-seller Missing Time. When I agreed to go, it was fairly quiet. The summer of 1994 saw no abductions. Rather than compromise myself totally, though, instead of actually reading it through, I just perused passages here and there to get the gist. I must say, even this reading process turned up some amazing similarities to my own story. Well, maybe not so amazing, since it merely confirmed to me the veracity of my own memory. 

A few days before I was to head north, though, I was pulled. I found myself in the same teaching room as before. This time, however, there wasn’t a bit of me that was paralyzed, and I was unattended. I made no effort to explore like last time. I’d wait here to see what they had in mind. Sure enough, in a little while two Supervisors appeared, holding a black box — a perfect cube. The psychic radiation of their presence was a little upsetting, but I got a hold of myself and didn’t panic. 

“LOOK. A GIFT FOR YOU.” 

One of the aliens took the black box and laid it on the table, and I noticed again how long and slender his fingers were. 

“A gift?” I said. “What do you want me to do with it?” 

“DO WITH IT AS YOU WILL.” 

They turned and left me with that box. I remember that although I was free to move around, I did feel a little foggy-headed. I had no sense of danger from the box, and I was curious, so I tried to open it. Alas, it seemed to have no lid. I tried to wrest it open, but no luck. I thought about banging it against the table, but I didn’t want the aliens to think I was tearing up their ship. After pushing and pulling didn’t work, I just put it on the table and stared at it. Then I realized the one thing I hadn’t tried was a gentle exploratory method. Sure enough, I gently grasped the lid and played with it, pulling it toward me. It slid off. Well, I just hope that wasn’t an intelligence test, because I probably scored pretty darned low! 

I noticed a foul odor rising. In the box were about 6 or 7 upright, long glass tubes. Each tube was about an inch to an inch and a half in diameter. In the bottom lay a thick, dark brown, sticky, smelly fluid, about two inches deep. The alien returned and stared. I broke eye contact, not because I was frightened but just to be safe. “What is that dark stuff?” 

“IT’S YOUR GIFT. WE EXTRACTED IT FROM YOUR LUNGS.” 

“From my lungs? This trash was in my lungs?” 

I really didn’t know what to think. Could this really be true? It’s possible because at that time I was indeed a smoker. I didn’t know what to say. 

“FOLLOW US,” one instructed me. 

They took me into another room and instructed me to stay. I just stood there in the dark — then I blacked out. When I awoke, I was in another room, this one well lit. I could move, but only in a kind of slow motion. Peripherally, I noticed that there was another woman in the room. It seemed to be Teresa. Then, I was aware of the slender fingers of an alien touching me and guiding me to another part of the room, so that the woman was out of my range of vision. The alien, definitely a Supervisor, led me to a wall. There stood a full-length mirror that seemed to be the sort they have in dressing rooms. 

The alien stood me in front of this mirror and said, 

“LOOK.” 

The figure in the mirror was me, only altered and not distorted, like a funhouse mirror. My hair is dark brown, full and thick. The image showed me with thin dark brown hair, mixed with blond. My chin seemed pointier. My image had no eyebrows, and my moustache was gone. My eyes were slightly larger, and my body more frail. 

“What is this all about?” I asked. I got no answer, and I didn’t push it. Baffled, but happy to know that I’d be able to talk about this with an expert like Budd Hopkins, I just paid attention as best I could. Soon I was  transported back. I found myself back home, and the clock read 5:30 A.M., safe and sound. The whole thing had been somewhat of a gift — after so long, a refresher abduction to remind me of details, just days before my trip to Cape Cod! I’d be able to report things absolutely vividly! 

Cape Cod was gorgeous in August, with the Atlantic breezes smelling clean and the sun giving off a much more pleasant kind of heat than muggy old Florida. Mary Anne was a splendid hostess and showed me the places in the area where she’d actually been abducted from her car. One of her abductions had been especially harrowing. In general, however, she dealt with the whole experience well, using them to help others cope. I learned that one of the reasons she’d done so well with this whole thing was that she’d had a very supportive family who actually believed her and did the things to keep her together in the first harrowing experiences. I felt a little bit envious. 

Although my main purpose here was to meet Budd Hopkins, Mary Anne wanted me to talk to another contactee to whom the aliens had shown their symbols. I’d shown very few symbols to my group and generally kept them to myself, reasoning (perhaps faultily) that if I found another person knowing the same alien symbols without having me disseminating them beforehand, it would be 100% rock-hard evidence that my experiences weren’t just extremely vivid hallucinations. 

Sure enough, the person Mary Anne wanted me to meet kept a meticulously sketched record of the symbols she was taught during her abduction experiences. Mary Anne knew this, and thus linked me up with a terrific lady whom I’ll call Sandy. We met, and we were both quite excited about the symbols. She invited me to her home so we could go over some of her experiences and view some of the symbols she had seen. 

Sandy is very fastidious. Most of her experiences were kept in diary form, and any alien symbols she remembered, she kept logged and filed. We both became quite excited about one particular abduction experience in which the similarities were astonishingly similar to one of mine. I’ll never forget the shock that coursed through me as I looked at two of those symbols, exactly as I remembered them. It was emotionally satisfying, and it made me feel so much less alone. 

The next night I was to attend a meeting of alien abductees from the New England area, where I would meet Budd Hopkins. This was such a special meeting for me. Budd Hopkins is such a pleasant gentleman. He’s graying, avuncular, soft-spoken and best of all — he listens carefully to you. An extra treat that night was the attendance of David M. Jacobs, author of the book Secret Life. I shared some of my story and listened to those of others. There were similarities, but also differences, which confirmed my opinion that quite a wide variety of alien races are visiting Earth. Afterwards, Budd invited me to come by and talk further. Sipping cold drinks that next day, we focused completely on my story. He was such a pleasure to talk to, and it was gratifying to see how amazed he was by my memory for detail. He asked if I’d had anything odd happen to me before 1988. No, I replied. However, there was one exception... 

One day in the mid-1950s, my mother and I were visiting relatives in New York City. I somehow got lost. I remember a strange man in a suit who offered to help. He took me to his car and we drove around for what seemed at least an hour. We found my mother, and all ended well. However, the odd thing was that to this day my mother swears that I was gone only for a couple of minutes. She’d panicked, looked around for me — and there I was, holding the hand of a man in a dark suit. As I told Budd, my mother was quite overprotective, and it’s hard for me to see how she had let me get lost on my own. Also, my memory of that car ride is crystal clear. Besides, I know a car ride would have taken much longer than a few minutes. 

“This could be a case of missing time,” Budd said. Although I couldn’t quite see how it related to my experiences, it did pique Budd’s interest. He mentioned that in most cases, encounters with aliens begin in an abductee’s childhood. He thought it would be a good idea to explore this further through hypnotic regression. The process could uncover gaps or lost memories. I was a bit nervous about the idea. I’d never been hypnotized before, and I didn’t really need it to recall my experiences. I felt I was unique and wanted to keep it that way. Budd understood. He explained that there were myths about hypnotic regression. Debunkers claimed hypnotists lead the individual into believing or recalling events the hypnotist is suggesting. He assured me that this wouldn’t happen. He just found that the hypnotic state was a relaxed environment that allowed recollections to occur. Of particular interest to Budd was the “Gift” I had been given. “It’s a fresh abduction experience,” he said, and he wanted to work with that a little bit. 

I agreed to undergo the hypnotic regression. Budd led me to a small room, just big enough for a comfortable, single bed. Budd instructed me to lie on the bed while he sat in a small chair. There was a small bookshelf against a window with several books atop the sill. I felt relaxed. Budd asked me to close my eyes, to think of a place where I enjoyed being, one that made me feel good. For me, that place has to be on the Gulf Coast in the morning, when gulls are feeding on baitfish that chum the glassy water. After a few minutes of relaxation and soothing words, Budd asked me to talk about my memories of childhood, between the ages of three and four. I did. He asked me to linger there and stand in front of a mirror and tell him what I saw. 

I must say now that I had the totally wrong idea of what hypnotic regression was. Maybe I had visualized stage hypnotists making people bark like dogs, but there on that bed I was completely conscious and totally aware and I knew I could end the session at any time. Once I was ready, Budd simply asked me to share the story again, the story of how I was lost as a child. Although I was under hypnosis, I pretty much said the same thing and told the story with the same detail as I had before. However, there was one big difference. As Budd asked me questions, and I watched the whole thing unfold again, I described everything. I was watching people through the square window of the vehicle I rode in. 

“What do you see?” 

“I see lots of people walking on the sidewalks. I see cars and buildings and I can see the tops of the men’s hats. I am saying to the nice man as I look at the women, “That’s not my mommy, and that’s not my mommy.” 

Then it hit me! I almost jumped off that bed. I was viewing the city streets filled with people and traffic all right, but obviously I was up in the air! I was looking down! We were moving, and I was in some sort of craft.  The implication here was that the aliens had been keeping track of me since childhood. 

When the session was over, Budd and I discussed the whole thing. I would like to emphasize that in no way did he plant this memory. It was just there. You have to understand that I did remember the craft — it just apparently never occurred to my young mind that I was flying. 

That evening at Mary Anne’s house I had the chance to go over all this again. I had a true feeling of discovery, achievement, and belonging. I felt good. I felt validated. 

The next day at Budd’s we immediately used the regression therapy to get into the alien-gift scenario. And thanks to the hypnosis, I got into an area where I had previously gone blank. All of the business up to the dark room was the same. Then, instead of losing consciousness (or feeling that I had) I lingered in that dark room for quite some time until I heard a voice in my head. This voice, followed by other voices, lectured me. 

The gist was that they wanted me to take more responsibility when I spoke of them and my interactions with them to other humans. In other words, this was a duty — bearing the message of what I learned to others. I understood, but I didn’t like the tone or method, so I guess I was being a little stubborn. They left me in pitch black. 

“STAY HERE AND THINK IT OVER.” 

They wanted to ensure that I would tell my story accurately, not adding anything of my own, just what I remembered. In retrospect, standing there in the gloom, this didn’t seem unreasonable. I suppose I reacted in that way because of my natural stubbornness and resistance, which had given them such a hard time before, but in turn helped me maintain my memory. 

I told the rest of the story. Budd shook his head. He didn’t see that regression was really useful with me because I wasn’t coming up with that much more. I remembered almost everything consciously. Down the road, I might want to retrieve a lost memory with it, but for the time being it didn’t seem that useful. My conscious memory aligned pretty well with my unconscious recollection. Budd gave me his thoughts on the matter. 

“Let’s go back to the beginning. First of all, they gave you a gift. When they left you alone in another room, you felt you were being chewed out or lectured. I would have to call this a ‘good-cop, bad-cop’ scenario.” Secondly, Budd said he felt the reason the aliens had me look in the mirror was to make me believe that I was also one of them. I was surprised to hear that. “Why?” I asked. He thought this way I would feel more a part of them and be less reluctant to take on the duties they were bestowing upon me. He seemed to have great insight, and I gained a great deal from it as we spent a little more time going over his investigations and theories. 

Later that evening, Mary Anne and friends dined with Budd. When she returned, she told me that Budd said that in all the years he had worked with abductees, I was the individual with the most conscious recall. At first that had seemed a curse. Now, it was becoming more, at least I hoped anyway, of a blessing.

Chapter 19
Human or Alien?
“I believe that the aliens are embarked on hybridization experiments,” I told the group. “Semen and eggs are extracted from us and, by utilizing alien DNA and biology, new beings are created. I think the worker aliens are a product, and may even be a commodity they trade in some sort of galactic business. But there’s more to the alien agenda, and much that I’ve observed and theorized jives with what I heard from Budd Hopkins and other analysts I spoke to in Massachusetts.” 

The Florida Alien Abduction Support Group listened carefully as I reported my new experiences, and the news from my visit north. The group was growing. Its membership was gaining not marginalized folk, but solid, everyday, upper-middle-class citizens — Democrats, Republicans, bankers, lawyers — a cross section of the community. Also, these people weren’t just locals. Some had traveled several hundred miles, because they’d heard that I was going to speak! I seemed to be gaining notoriety. Again, as I remember the woeful isolation I’d felt all those years, I could see a reason for it now. I not only could help others with their experiences, but it was also helping me. So, I agreed to let Tim schedule a few speaking engagements for me, hoping, as I do now, that I could help people. I also tried to do as the aliens requested and be as accurate as possible in my reporting. It was as though they approved of my spreading the word of their activities to those who would listen and be open to what was happening. 

In December of 1994, after a stretch of peace, I was pulled again. I lay flat on my back with the effects of acceleration still buzzing around my head. I had the sense of a large echoey space, and sure enough, this was not the normal room in which I usually found myself. I was on a hard table. I pried myself up and, although I could move, it was slow. My eyesight was blurry and my peripheral vision limited, but I could pretty much tell where I was, as I pulled myself to a sitting position, legs dangling off the edge. I was in a huge rectangular room perhaps half the size of a football field. The walls seemed to be corrugated metal. In fact, it looked as though I were in the interior of a jet hangar. As my eyesight cleared and I looked around, I saw something I didn’t like much — human military guards. They were lined up, backs against the wall, spaced out at 20-foot intervals. 

Outside I heard the roar and scream of jets taking off and landing. I looked around. On the other side of my table was a rectangular platform, 20’ by 15’, surrounded by tiers of steps. On this platform stood two barrel-shaped transparent containers made of glass or even some sort of magnetic field, perhaps. These were maybe 15’ in circumference, about 8’ high. Each case held one male and one female human. The female had a certain resemblance to Teresa, but I wasn’t sure. 

Two men in lab coats appeared, walking with an alien. Humans fraternizing with aliens on an equal basis was pretty upsetting to me, of course, but I had to remind myself that I’d seen humans before who had been the result of screen imaging — aliens messing with my brain. Nonetheless, the longer I watched, the more I had the sense that these really were humans. I also seemed to sense that these containers were some sort of transport system, and that they were man-made. But if this indeed were a human facility, why was the alien here? Why was I here? Had I been transported here using one of these things? Was the U.S. military in league with my alien abductors? 

One of the men had some kind of metal rod or wand. The three turned their attention to the woman in the chamber who was still too blurry for me to identify. He started prodding her. A tremendous sense of outrage filled me. I felt I had to stop them from doing whatever they were doing because it was abusive. As though in slow motion I struggled off the table and wobbled up the steps. They didn’t hear me coming or expect me, so I was able to dart between them and grab the arm of the woman, who I could tell by this time wasn’t Teresa at all. 

I pulled hard, and the zombie-like woman didn’t budge. The alien stepped back. The images of the men in lab coats wavered and they became aliens as well, but this seemed to me to be just a ruse to confuse or frighten me, and I was far too angry to be put off from my mission. I heard the pounding feet of the guards by the wall, coming forward. Another rippling and the alien images faded. Again I was with a woman, an alien, and men in lab coats. The man with the rod motioned to the guards and they stopped in their tracks. 

“I’ll handle this!” he said right out loud, without telepathy, in good old brusque, American English. 

He touched my hand with the rod, and Ouch! did that sting! I yanked my hand away from the woman, but I was still out of my head with anger. I tried to pull away again, but again that rod flicked down with unbearable pain. I staggered back, and things got very fuzzy. Then I was on the table again, with the impression that time had passed. The canisters on the transport platform were empty. I could see this as my head was tilted in that direction. I looked up. Hovering over me was a figure, examining me in some manner, and this figure kept changing back and forth between alien and human. I felt quite drugged. 

Usually during these abductions I’m wide awake. This time I was filled with fogginess with only intervals of clarity. The human/alien was lecturing me in a fatherly fashion. I could comprehend everything he was saying, yet my mental state was such that I couldn’t retain it. The sound of jet planes kicked up again. The man/alien left me. The jet activity stopped, and dead silence descended. Then there was a rolling sound of a giant hangar door opening! I looked up and sure enough, this door was slowly moving, revealing a night sky. I could see lights and runways, and past them the dim forms of a starlit desert. 

The smells and feels of cool desert night air rolled in, and I could smell the sage and the cactus. I recognized the sight and feelings, and it felt like Nevada. There was every sign that I was in the Southern Nevada desert. I used to vacation in Las Vegas several times a year, and I would always take trips out to enjoy the unique air and sensations of the Nevada desert. That was what I experienced now. Out on the desert landscape, I noticed, on the horizon to my left, a bright stationary light, just hanging in the sky — a spacecraft! It did not make a sound, but just hung there as though waiting for me. I sensed it was time to go, and not through the transport cylinders either. Realizing this, I felt relieved. Then, almost from nowhere, a man walked up to me. He leaned over the top right side of my head and began to speak, telling me to read a book. He said it was The Roman by Mika Toimi Waltari and that it would aid my understanding. Then the whirls and whirs of acceleration began. 

I returned home remembering only this much and no more. More startling though was the fact that I had many cuts on my hand where the man had hit me with that wicked stinging rod. Any wounds I’d ever received on alien abductions before usually healed amazingly quickly — the process was almost finished at the end of an encounter. These wounds were quite fresh, and didn’t look anywhere near healed. They weren’t deep, but they were quite painful. I didn’t resent them though as they confirmed the reality of what had just happened to me. 

At the next UFO meeting, my friend Don, the law enforcement guy, noticed the cuts, healing but quite red and obvious. We’d gotten close, and it felt good that he trusted me, because he didn’t want it to be known to the community at large that he was a UFO abductee. I told him the story, and what bothered us the most was the idea that the U.S. military was involved in this whole business. Government officials have routinely denied any knowledge of UFO or alien activities, all the way back to the late forties and Roswell. Don just suggested that I not read too much into anything, but just roll with it, and let it play out. I hadn’t mentioned the book I’d been told to read. I didn’t even know if it really existed, and I was afraid to go to the library to look for it. Maybe I was afraid it was an illusion, that it would show that I’d been fantasizing all this — that my cuts were some sort of strange stigmata. 

Maybe, though, I was even more afraid that the book might actually exist. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. Almost three weeks later I was staring at a library computer monitor, typing in the title of that book and the name of its author. Sure enough, it popped right up on the screen, and there was a copy available. I was so shocked that I even started to faint. I grabbed onto the monitor and held on, as though to my sanity. When I recovered I did manage to check the book out and take it home. It was a 600-page historical novel about a man who held tremendous power about 2,000 years ago in Rome. 

Remember the bloodline business I spoke of before? I was convinced that I am descended from this man who claimed to get his knowledge and advice from Godlike creatures whose dwelling was the “Stars.” It seemed pretty obvious to me that I had some sort of tracking gene, something that came down the ages in my family, that the aliens could follow, manipulate and work with. Even though this book helped me understand a good deal, I was still pretty unsettled with the business that took place in that hangar. But what could I do? Journey to Washington, D.C., pound on doors, and demand to know what exactly was going on? I would just have to wait. Later, though, I got my answer.  

Chapter 20
Diamond in the Sky
I continued my work, sharing and helping others, continuing to spread the word. After the hangar experience though, I started seeing things in a different light, particularly when I heard reports on UFOs and government reaction. 

I continued to talk to small groups sometimes. I attended various UFO group meetings, including the Tampa Project Awareness Conference, where I had the good fortune to meet Linda Moulton Howe. I was also invited to do a few radio talk shows, including the Mutual UFO Network, the Kathy Fountain Show in Tampa and the Brad Collins Show on WINK 1200 AM in Fort Myers. 

Initially, this widespread exposure made me nervous. I guess I really wasn’t that comfortable with the idea of coming forward publicly with weird stories and opening myself up for ridicule. But then when I considered the things that I had experienced in the last years, I figured I could handle radio. 

I kept my story simple and down-to-earth (no pun intended!) After the first few shows, I was surprised to find that the public at large was more receptive than I had anticipated. In fact, I was astonished when the calls came in. Many shared abduction experiences. Many respectfully just wanted more information. I was also amazed at all the UFO sightings! 

It was now March, 1995, and I had not been abducted lately. I was feeling pretty good, so I decided to attend the annual “Shrimp Festival” at Fort Myers Beach. 

The county-fair-like festivities take place on the beach just a mile from my home. It was late morning as I walked there, a clear and beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky. I had such a good time eating and drinking and watching the people and the parades, that the time whisked by. Before I knew it I had less than a half hour before sunset. I wanted to be home before dark, so I started to walk down the beach to a more isolated area. That day though, a young man and woman were wading in the water, waiting to watch one of our gorgeous sunsets. 

As I approached them, a strange thing happened. My heart began to beat hard and adrenaline began filling me. 

“Not here!” I whispered, thinking I was about to be abducted again. “Not now!” 

An extremely loud voice inside me said, “WATCH US ENTER THE ATMOSPHERE.” So strong was this voice that my entire body vibrated and swayed uncontrollably to every word. I attracted the attention of the woman, and I managed to get a hold of myself. “You’re about to see something fantastic,” I said. 

“I know,” said the woman. “The sunsets here are beautiful.” 

I felt sheepish. Why had I said that? But then as I turned to hurry away the woman cried out, “Oh my God! Is that a UFO?” 

I turned, and for some reason I knew exactly where to look. Right there, hanging stationary in the sky in broad daylight was a diamond shaped ship. It looked as though the sky had partially opened up to let it in because directly behind the ship was a streak of bright white light with a hue of blue. It was beautiful, just hanging there. We stared at the magnificent thing. “Remember what you are seeing here today,” I said. “There are people who spend an entire lifetime investigating these things and never see one.” Then, in a flash, it disappeared. 

“It’s not gone yet,” I said to the woman. “Keep watching. It will come back.” 

“How do you know that?” 

I hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I seem to have some sort of connection with these things.” Sure enough, it came back and performed quite a splendid show. When it was over the guy started to jump up and down, yelling “Yahoo, Yahoo!” Then he ran away down the beach. 

The woman just shook her head. “No one will ever believe that we really saw a UFO,” she said. 

I stayed a moment and made conversation with her. This was an exciting moment, but frightening as well. It was exciting because I’d just shared a UFO experience in broad daylight, straight out of everyday reality, with immediate feedback from others. It was frightening, because this  was a new way they had contacted me, and I was always frightened when they reached that deeply into my life. 

I asked the girl a favor. When she got back home, would she please write to me and tell me exactly what her experience was here, in her own words? She didn’t feel that she could. She didn’t feel that she could tell anyone about this — that people would think she was nuts back in her small town in Minnesota. I asked again, and gave her my address. I didn’t tell her I had decided that I should start writing the book you’re reading now. 

Alas, I never heard from her. I had the feeling, though, that I would hear from the aliens again — and soon. A few days later, late on the evening of March 23rd, I awoke suddenly, intensely feeling their presence, yet it was different than before. 

“WE ARE ALMOST THERE.” 

It got to me, this different feeling. I was used to acceleration now, but not this. I became very frightened, and the energy was so intense that I curled up into the corner of the sofa in a fetal position and said aloud, “I’m too scared. I can’t do this. Go away! Just go away, please!” I was almost wailing in fear. “Why do you bastards insist on creeping up on people in the middle of the night? I’m not ready yet!” 

The energy level radically dropped. I felt tremendous relief. I couldn’t believe it. They had actually honored my request! 

This was all very strange. It made me wonder if I were now dealing with a different crew of aliens entirely. I could feel their presence fade and disappear. 

The next day I was invited back on The Brad Collins Show. I almost didn’t accept, because the topic was the US government’s involvement in the UFO phenomenon. Collins felt that involvement was heavy. I wasn’t so sure. But still, it was a chance to communicate again and maybe even learn, so I accepted. 

On the morning of the show, which was scheduled for 6:00 P.M., I had to run down the road a long way to get a part for my pick-up truck. Since moving back to the Fort Myers beach area, I had managed to settle down enough to acquire two beautiful and large dogs — one was a black Lab and the other a blond golden retriever. They loved riding in the bed of the pickup. On the 60-mile trip that morning, they rode along, as usual. 

On the way back I was preoccupied, thinking about that evening’s radio show. What was I going to say? I was in a pretty desolate area of highway, headed for the Gulf of Mexico, deep in thought when a telepathic voice in my head proclaimed loudly “JUST SAY WHAT YOU KNOW.” 

In the back, my dogs began to whimper with fear. 

“That’s it!” I said, and it suddenly all seemed very clear. 

“DID YOU THINK YOU WERE IN THIS ALONE?” 

If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn these guys had a sense of humor, but I didn’t have long to laugh before a huge diamond-shaped space craft appeared in the sky in front of me. 

Yanking myself out of shock, I looked at the clock. It was 11:10 A.M. I looked back and yes, it was the same vessel I’d seen on the beach, just closer. Now I could judge it as maybe being 100 feet in length and about 50 feet wide. My truck rolled to a stop. It took me a while to realize that I’d stopped right in the middle of the road — not a good place! Still, there was no sign of traffic. There’s always some kind of traffic hereabouts, but that day there were no cars or people either! The dogs behind me continued whimpering. 

The craft began to move away. I hurried to get closer, but it eluded me. Finally it dropped right into the Gulf of Mexico without a splash, confirming to me its interdimensional qualities. 

I raced down a side road to check it out, getting to the place where it had disappeared in the water. I got as close as possible and then I stopped. The clock read 11:42 A.M. 

“Bullshit!” I thought. It had been no more than three minutes since the craft had appeared, not 32 minutes. The dogs had stopped whimpering. I tried to look around a bit longer, but I finally had to accept that the ship was long gone. 

When I got home, I called Don. “Jim, you lost time. Do you think you were abducted?” 

I wasn’t sure. “Everything about their behavior this past week has been different.” 

After chewing this over with Don, I felt better. Eventually all would be revealed. Was I dealing now with a different set of aliens, creatures with a different methodology? It was hard to say, but then everything about this whole business is tough to deal with. 

That evening the radio show went without a hitch, and I was pleased with the way it turned out. Whenever I was asked or pressured about the U.S. government’s involvement, I didn’t speculate, I just said, if pressed, “That’s possible, but I don’t know for sure.” 

This technique seemed to ease the host, and at the same time it afforded me the opportunity to share my experiences as fact instead of speculation, which gave balance to the show. 

In our UFO discussion group meetings, we often discuss the possibility that there are indeed different alien species involved in this whole interaction with humans, a kind of coalition. 

I began believing this because of the different descriptions and behavior patterns described by other abductees. 

I had a new attitude to all this by then, though. Before, I wanted the aliens out of my life. Now, it was as though I couldn’t wait to see what was next. 

What was next was an acceleration in the evening — a low-pitched whirling sound, then, waking up…. 

Only this time it didn’t speed up as fast or get loud. The gut-wrenching part was still there, but not as strong, and it took longer than usual for me to black out. When I awoke, it was earlier than usual and I could see where I was going! 

I was high above ground, descending slowly into an abandoned carnival park. I was floating over a large old-fashioned neglected wooden roller coaster. I also saw a few empty concession and gaming booths, shabby and falling apart. 

It was night, but I wasn’t frightened for some reason. In fact, I was so calm and relaxed that I was enjoying the ride. Twenty feet from the ground, I started to rock slowly back and forth several times like a pendulum, almost as if I were being guided to a target and this was the final adjustment. The transport method was the same, but the technology was notably much more gentle. When I was a few feet from the ground, I saw the profiles of about a dozen large creatures standing in a semi-circle, and then I blacked out. 

“WE WOULD HAVE GIVEN IT TO YOU, BUT WE KNEW IT WOULDN’T HAVE MEANT ANYTHING UNLESS YOU EARNED IT. IT WAS THE ONLY WAY YOU COULD POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN A PART OF AND WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO.” 

The message came to me loud and clear as I began to regain consciousness and opened my eyes. I later understood that by “IT” the Voice meant knowledge. 

I found myself standing in that abandoned carnival yard, clear headed and fully conscious. There were those creatures again, and I could see that holograms of human faces were cast over their faces, to disguise their true appearance and make me feel less apprehensive. 

I noticed that each alien seemed to be concentrating and communicating or transmitting its thoughts to the creature to my left. They seemed to be of like mind, as though combining their consciousness into one telepathic Voice. They continued: 

“THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND. 

“YES, IT’S TRUE THAT WE HAVE BEEN IN CONTACT WITH YOUR GOVERNMENT AND HEADS OF POWER. 

“IT IS ALSO TRUE THAT AGREEMENTS HAVE BEEN MADE AND KEPT SECRET FROM YOUR PEOPLE. IT IS ALSO TRUE THAT IN THE PAST SOME OF YOUR PEOPLE HAVE LOST THEIR LIVES OR HAVE BEEN BADLY HURT TO PROTECT THIS SECRET. 

“OUR HANDS HAD NO PART IN THIS. 

“WE CONTACTED YOUR LEADERS BECAUSE YOUR PLANET IS IN GRAVE TROUBLE. YOUR LEADERS SAID THE VAST MAJORITY OF YOUR POPULATION WASN’T READY FOR ANYTHING LIKE US YET, SO WE MADE TIME AGREEMENTS WITH YOUR LEADERS AS TO WHEN YOUR PEOPLE WOULD BE MADE AWARE OF OUR PRESENCE. THIS PART OF THE AGREEMENT HAS NOT AT ALL BEEN KEPT. 

“IT WAS ALSO AGREED THAT IN THE MEANTIME STEPS WOULD BE TAKEN TO CORRECT THE ENVIRONMENTAL CONDITION OF YOUR PLANET WITH OUR ADVICE AND TECHNOLOGY. WE SAY ‘ADVICE’ BECAUSE WE RESPECT THE FACT THAT THIS IS YOUR PLANET, NOT OURS. THEY ALSO BROKE THIS AGREEMENT.” 

I felt an awful wave of emotion from them — the feeling of abandonment. To feel any emotion from them at all was amazing, but this was quite overwhelming. 

“You aren’t giving up on us, are you?” I asked. 

There was a long silent pause and I received the transmitted feeling of tremendous loss. 

“Well, are you?” I asked. 

“NO.” 

I felt an immediate sense of relief, straight from my own emotions! 

“YOUR AIR, YOUR WATER, ARE CONTAMINATED. 

“YOUR FORESTS, JUNGLES, TREES AND PLANT LIFE ARE DYING. 

“THERE ARE SEVERAL BREAKS IN YOUR FOOD CHAIN. 

“YOU HAVE AN OVERWHELMING AMOUNT OF NUCLEAR AND BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS, WHICH INCLUDE NUCLEAR AND BIOLOGICAL CONTAMINATION. 

“YOUR PLANET IS OVERPOPULATED. 

“WARNING: IT IS ALMOST THE POINT OF BEING TOO LATE, UNLESS YOUR PEOPLE ACT. 

“THERE ARE BETTER WAYS OF DERIVING ENERGY AND FOOD NEEDS WITHOUT CAUSING YOUR PLANET ANY DAMAGE. 

“THOSE IN POWER ARE AWARE OF THIS AND HAVE THE CAPABILITY OF PUTTING THESE METHODS INTO WORLDWIDE USE.” 

I let this digest for a moment. I definitely had the feeling that these creatures were speaking as one. 

Then I asked, “Why aren’t we doing that now?” 

Silence. I was willing to wait. I had come a long way to be treated like this by them, to have this kind of meeting. Apparently, I had earned their respect and trust. The best part was that I was getting direct, truthful answers to my questions. I decided that I would milk this rare situation to its fullest, asking as many questions as I could get away with, even personal questions.

I repeated my question, and they answered. 

“THOSE IN POWER VIEW IT AS A MILITARY AND SECURITY THREAT.” 

That upset me. “You mean to tell me the people in power have the ability to save and better this planet, and they aren’t doing it?” 

“AMNESTY.” 

“What do you mean?”  

“COMPLETE AMNESTY TO THOSE IN POWER, GOVERNMENTS AND LEADERS WHO HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSING THE TRUTH. THEY CAN’T BE HELD LIABLE FOR ANY PAST WRONG DEEDS. IT IS THE ONLY WAY THESE LEADERS CAN COME FORWARD WITH THE TRUTH. IT IS NECESSARY THAT YOU DO THIS IN ORDER TO WORK TOGETHER AND SURVIVE.” 

Of course, they were suggesting forgiveness. My anger at all this faded, as I thought about it. It made sense. Heads roll whenever cover-ups are exposed, and this was a cover-up of galactic proportions. No pun intended. 

If anyone had a good reason to hate their government for covering up this information, it was me, and others like me. Most abductees still consider themselves victims who constantly suffer ridicule. When your government’s policy is to say, “You’re just plain crazy,” it only deepens the pain. 

I let my intelligence rule over my emotions and calmed down. 

“How do I fit in all this? What can I possibly do?” 

“WHAT YOU ARE DOING ALREADY. WE WILL SHARE MUCH MORE KNOWLEDGE WITH YOU IN THE FUTURE. ALTHOUGH YOU UNDERSTAND A LOT, WE WILL SHOW YOU MUCH MORE. 

“CONTINUE TO WORK WITH PEOPLE THAT COME TO YOU. WE ARE AWARE OF THE SMALL GROUPS THAT ARE FORMING AROUND THE WORLD AND WE HAVE ADVICE. YOU WILL RECEIVE MORE KNOWLEDGE IN THE NEAR FUTURE.” 

These were not the exact same aliens who had worked with me all those years — but there was a link between them, and the pain and learning I went through all led up to this. 

I asked my questions and they continued to give me some personal advice. They also said: 

“CONTINUE TO WORK WITH PEOPLE WHO COME TO YOU. THESE GROUPS FORMING AROUND THE WORLD ARE PEOPLE WHO ARE PREPARED TO LEARN. CONSIDER THEM THE CORE.  THEN YOU WILL HAVE THOSE WHO WILL SEEK YOU OUT, WHO ARE STILL IN FEAR. ONCE THEY ARE OVER THE FEAR, THEN THEY WILL BE READY FOR THE CORE GROUP. 

“MOST IMPORTANT IS THE CONDITION OF YOUR PLANET. THE FIRST STEP IN SOLVING THIS SERIOUS PROBLEM IS AMNESTY.” 

I asked them about fellow abductees I knew personally. First, I asked why they had chosen Tim. 

“HIS NATURE MAKES HIM SUITABLE FOR FIRST CONTACT. HE THEN EASES OTHERS WHO ARE IN FEAR.” 

So true. I asked about Don and what he could do to deal with the problems he’d had lately. 

“HE NEEDS TO CONTINUE TO WORK ON HIS EGO. TELL HIM THAT. HE’LL KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.” (In fact, he knew exactly what they meant, although he’d never shared any of this with me, and he was deeply affected.) 

I asked them about David, the state director for M.U.F.O.N. in Rhode Island. To everyone who had met him, though, including me, he was much more than that. As I stated earlier, he has a heart of gold. He was really calming and emotionally supportive to me and I know, for others. I have grown to have a tremendous respect for this man. 

“WE HAVE LOVE FOR DAVID.” 

Boy, that caught me off guard — love? The one that was speaking to me was sharing the collective consciousness of this entire group. They were different from the greys, because all of a sudden they had all these emotions. (The greys for the most part had no feelings.) I said nothing though, because I remembered that these guys weren’t the Ice Corps that had put me through my routines for years. They seemed more attuned to human emotions, and I guess I figured I should appreciate that.

It started to rain. I don’t mean just raining, it was pouring! 

The semi-circle of aliens didn’t budge and I felt no urge to either. We weren’t getting wet. Although we were all standing outdoors, with no  roof whatsoever, not one drop of rain touched us. We seemed to be protected by some kind of electrical field. I, of course, should not have been amazed, I’d seen so much alien technology, but still I was. 

I was still thinking about Dave’s question that he always asked me when he had the chance and he knew I’d recently experienced an abduction: “What do they look like?” Should I ask them? 

Instead, I asked other questions, which they answered — questions and answers which I’ll not go into here. Finally, though, they said, 

“IT’S TIME TO GO.” 

A rare courtesy — a closure. 

Then David’s request flashed into my mind. 

“Wait. Please, I don’t want to go yet! I want to see what you really look like. 

“IT WILL STRIKE FEAR IN YOUR HEART.” 

I promised I wouldn’t be frightened and said that it would be a privilege to see them. However, I did request that they make a peaceful gesture  in the midst of this frightening exposure, just to reassure me. A wave, perhaps? 

A spinning white light with a hint of green began to radiate over their faces and upper bodies. The intensity of this light slowly got brighter. It radiated from no detectable source. 

Then I saw what they truly looked like. They were big, all right. Their upper bodies looked like football linebackers. As the light became brighter and the details clearer, fear and shock did course through me like lightning. 

They had scales, and their faces were sort of snakelike, or lizard like. Nothing at all like the smaller aliens. 

I felt an odd, deep-down instinctual shock, but I told myself to calm down. 

Their eyes were small like ours, but diamond shaped. The pupils were reddish. Their heads were big, and their brow stuck far out from their eyes to various degrees, giving them all some kind of individuality. I was surprised that I was deeply upset by them. 

“Hey,” I said feebly. “You promised to…uh...wave.” 

Wave they did. Each and every one of them slowly lifted their arms and waved them in front of their faces — a sight to behold. 

This relaxed me, but I was surprised by a feature I didn’t expect — their hands. Their hands were huge, with thick club-like features, which appeared too thick by my estimate to work fine instruments. 

Once again, though, I had to remind myself that their technology is thought-activated, and anyway, I was judging by my limited human experience. 

The acceleration commenced. I regained consciousness back at home as usual, but the experience still gripped me. What a message! What an important communication! These creatures had a vantage point that no one else had. They were able to see a totality that many of us refuse to see. 

As the sun rose over the horizon, it felt as though it was a dawn of promise and possibility, and my fear was totally gone. 

I drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

next-195s
State of the Earth

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