X - Casey and
Karla
After asking these eight courageous women to share their experiences
with the public, it is only proper that I also give an account of
the things my husband, Casey, and I have witnessed since the first
year of activity recounted in
INTO THE FRINGE. We have repeatedly
been asked about further experiences, and the following summary will
serve to fulfill that request, in addition to increasing the body of
knowledge upon which research depends.
The first intense period of dealing with alien activity lasted from
late 1987 through most of 1990, but after that the encounters
dramatically waned in our daily life. We breathed a figurative sigh
of relief, hoping that the aliens had moved on to another task.
Besides, having become active in abduction research, this relatively
peaceful period allowed us to focus on learning from other people’s
experiences, expanding our base of knowledge from the personal level
to that of general society.
I still kept a calendar notation of any questionable or unusual
events, but the frequency was so low that a journal wasn’t needed
any longer. In all of 1990, for instance, I recorded signs of only
eight possible events, only three of which were evinced in a
conscious or objective manner. In addition to some unexplained body
marks, I witnessed another UFO sighting on February.
Leaving a friend’s at 8:15 p.m. I saw a huge, white object flying
rapidly at a very low altitude above three tall towers in the city.
Driving on, however, I lost track of it, but when I reached my own
neighborhood I saw it again.
I decided to go to the hill near our house and have one more look.
When I parked and walked to a prominence to get a wide view, I
immediately saw the same light coming from the west toward the
south. It was moving much more slowly now, and bobbing along
rhythmically instead of in a smooth, straight path. It passed
between the downtown skyline and me, so I knew it couldn’t be more
than a mile away.
It began to grow larger, as if moving closer, and I felt ready to
confront it, at last, in full consciousness. But after a bit, the
light receded, still bobbing, and continued on into the south. I ran
down the hill to the car, thinking I’d drive home for Casey and
bring him back to see the object. Then I thought I should have one
last look to determine where I would likely find it visible when we
returned. So I raced back up the hill and looked around. The light
was not where I had previously seen it.
I turned back in disappointment, and then caught sight of it again,
in the very position it had started from the first time. The bobbing
light silently repeated its path, once again coming close for a time
and then backing away. I returned quickly to the car then and drove
the half-block distance to my home. The streets were deserted as I
pulled into the garage.
When I ran inside and yelled for Casey to come with me, he looked up
puzzled from the couch and asked if I had pulled into the garage
twice.
“No, of course not,” I replied. “Why’d you ask that?”
‘Then I guess it must have been a truck out on the street,” he said.
“But it sure was loud, for just a truck.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
‘This huge noise,” he said, “about thirty seconds before you came in
the garage. It was so loud that the whole front of the house shook,
like some huge tanks or trucks were barreling down the street.”
“I was just on the street,” I objected, “and there was nothing out
there. But I did see a UFO, up on the hill.”
We drove together back
to the prominence and were disappointed to see nothing but the usual
air traffic in the sky.
At no time during 1990 did either of us have a conscious encounter,
just signs that something might have been going on. Emotionally and
intellectually, we had nothing concrete with which to deal.
In 1991, however, at least in the beginning, that was not the case.
Both Casey and I felt a great, undirected stress, as we’d done back
in 1988, and that experience told us that activity might be
recurring which was kept repressed from our consciousness.
In January, our son’s friend James reported encounters with unusual
entities, one of which once masked itself with the illusion of a
beautiful blonde woman before revealing a very different physiology.
Casey also recalled a possible encounter with the blond group that
month, which had seemed like a VRS dream event (as recounted in INTO
THE FRINGE). For Casey, the event was disturbing and puzzling, and
we both wondered if anything further could occur. But nothing
similar happened, nothing but a few unexplained marks, until April.
Shortly before leaving for the Ozark UFO Conference early that
month, we had a “phantom sedan” incident, reminiscent of “Men in
Black” reports. In this event, a very real-looking black car rolled
down the street, came to a near stop as it reached our yard
boundary, and a human-looking man in a white shirt and dark suit,
wearing sunglasses, peered through the car’s deeply tinted windows
into the front of our house-where I was standing staring back out. I
turned around to shout for Casey to come see it, and when I looked
back the car had vanished.
In June, the mysterious helicopters returned, appearing on three
different days. By the end of the month we made a permanent move to
Arkansas, and thereafter, in an area with heavy, normal helicopter
traffic, it was impossible to tell if any of it was unusual. We
found a few questionable marks on our bodies in August, but it
wasn’t until October that a memory of anything specific turned up.
During the night of the fourteenth, I physically got out of bed at
some point, and I also had a dream that aliens were about to come
into a long, narrow room where I was waiting.
My only thought was, Don’t scare me! But nothing more remained in my
consciousness, in spite of the bruise on my arm and scratch on my
abdomen in the morning.
One other incident, in January 1992, involved another
almost-conscious realization that an intrusion was occurring. I woke
at 1:34 a.m., opened my eyes, and wondered why the room was so
foggy. My immediate rationalization was that my eyes just hadn’t yet
focused, and I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I started
walking, a sudden rush of thick, clear liquid with tiny black specks
suspended in it flooded from me, much more than can be produced
naturally by the body, but I had no idea where it had come from.
Neither could I account for the new scratch and bruise I found the
next day.
These things were physically real, yet something within me didn’t
really “come to grips” with what might be happening to us. I
wouldn’t let these events obsess me or throw me off track from
researching other people’s situations. If the aliens wanted to get
my attention again, they were going to have to do a lot better than
this, I decided. A strange snippet of a dream now and then, a few
marks, even the liquid-the significance of which I certainly knew
from other women’s accounts-weren’t enough to frighten me or move me
in any serious way. I refused to feel under attack, even granting
that some activity was occurring. But I was only able to keep this
frame of mind because I wasn’t perceiving them consciously.
For months thereafter, neither Casey nor I noticed anything
inexplicable or suspicious. Throughout most of 1992 I was busy with
radio and newspaper interviews, the result of INTO THE FRINGE being
released, and I also worked on a research project involving Ted
Rice, the well-known psychic in Shreveport, Louisiana, whose
lifelong experiences with alien forces shed extraordinary light on
some of the abduction activities which have been so hard to
penetrate.
The period of no unusual activity, however, came to an end with a
bang on the morning of October 13. I was sitting at the coffee table
working on Ted’s material, when a large ball of white light appeared
and exploded right in front of me, less than four feet away. There
was no noise, so I realized I hadn’t merely seen a reflective flash
from an explosion.
Five minutes later, a noise did occur, a very loud, pounding noise
that slammed against the kitchen wall with a house-shaking thump. My
dogs started up, barking, and we ran to the kitchen door to see what
had happened. The garage doors were closed and locked, however, with
nothing out of the ordinary in sight. My immediate response was a
feeling that this was an announcement of some sort, a declaration of
a renewed presence. And from past experience I could recognize the
“feel” of this intrusion. There was no fear or anger in my mind,
just a complete determination to face whatever would come next.
That proved to be a UFO sighting. On October 27, at 7 p.m., our
neighbors phoned to say they’d been watching a UFO for the past ten
minutes and wanted us to come out for a look. I had dinner cooking
just then, but Casey and a visiting friend raced up the road, in
time to watch an odd orange-red orb of light disappearing behind the
tree line. The neighbors said they saw the orb change colors from
white to orange, and that at one point a solid-looking beam of light
emerged and moved around before retracting back into the UFO as it
moved away.
Since this event was multiply witnessed, we didn’t feel it was
“aimed” at us. UFO sightings
are surprisingly frequent in central Arkansas, and they are often
seen by multiple witnesses. This sighting, although momentarily
exciting, was oddly unaffecting. If this sighting report had come
from someone else, I would have recognized the pacified response,
but it’s much harder to analyze oneself than someone else.
The next month, as I started a dusk stroll up the drive, I had my
most bizarre UFO sighting to date. And again I experienced a sedated
reaction. In absolute silence, a large, rectangular craft soared
over my mother-in-law’s cottage, which is thirty feet from our
house, just above treetop level. My first response was exhilaration,
and I started to run up the drive to follow it. But its speed, while
not startling, was fast enough that the craft was soon out of sight,
blocked by the tall, thick trees on our property.
I observed it long enough to get a clear picture, though. It
reminded me of a train boxcar in length and width, although not
quite as tall, and it looked metallic-brown. The bottom of the craft
had an indentation or bar across the middle, with a large amber
light at each end. Four more amber lights marked each corner of the
rectangular object, for a total of six lights.
Within a matter of seconds, my exhilaration disappeared along with
the craft, and instead of racing inside to get Casey, I just began
to stroll again. When I did go back in, I told him of the sighting
and that I hadn’t had time to notify him before the craft flew off.
My natural excitement and curiosity felt artificially suppressed, so
much so that I didn’t even make a notation of the sighting on my
calendar.
In fact, it simply faded from my memory for almost two
weeks before I suddenly remembered it again. After experiencing this
response several times, I am now convinced that it is externally
imposed and thus denotes outside contact of a very real nature.
At the time, however, I was unconcerned. My friend Brenda was in the
midst of much more overt alien intrusions in her home, and they
seemed more important than the few things we’d experienced
ourselves. Besides, as I’d decided earlier, it would take something
highly significant to pique my interest and get me to interact on a
personal level with the aliens again.
On January 8, 1993, it got rather personal when I woke up to find my
clothing had been removed, and I hadn’t been the one who removed
them. This was always upsetting to me when it occurred in the past,
for it made me feel intimately and helplessly violated. I had the
same response this time, and when I phoned Brenda to discuss it the
next morning, she told me of the dream she’d had the same night. I
was in it.
She dreamed she was aboard a craft, immobile on a table,
and she could see me on a table beside her, also unable to move. She
said she tried desperately to reach out to me, but couldn’t, and
that’s all she recalled. I had no memory to match the event, but the
missing clothing was indicative of some nocturnal activity I hadn’t
generated.
It was Casey’s turn next, in February. On the morning of the
seventeenth he told me
that in the middle of the night, at 12:38 a.m., a loud “bang” noise
awakened him from a
dream. (Normally I am the one who awakens at any sound, while he
sleeps through
everything.) In the dream, he had been standing in the living room
looking out the
picture window at the ridge behind our property. A large, white orb
appeared in the
sky and then descended to the ridge.
He told me that he instantly
remembered the dream when he was awakened by the bang and that he
then got out of bed and walked into the living room. Just as in the
dream, he stood peering out the window, watching in full
consciousness as a large, white orb appeared and descended to the
ridge.
“What happened then?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“I guess I went back to bed,” he said, “but I honestly don’t
remember doing it.”
And his response was curiously passive, as mine
had been. This time I noticed and determined to be more alert if
anything else were to occur, to fight the passive effect in order to
react the way I thought best, rather than the way some outside force
directed me.
In April I also had a nighttime event, much less dramatic than
Casey’s sighting of the orb, but nonetheless inexplicable. At 1:14
a.m. I awoke hearing the sound of a C-130 airplane, with which I’m
very familiar as training flights from the nearby military base have
regular paths over this area.
The plane sounded as if it was just
coming directly overhead, at an extremely low altitude. My first
reaction was irritation at the thoughtlessness of training flights
at such an intrusive hour. I’ll phone the base in the morning and
complain, I thought as I lay there with Casey soundly asleep beside
me. But seconds, and then minutes, elapsed, and the noise of the
C-130 didn’t waver, increase, or diminish.
It can’t be hovering! I thought, but that’s exactly how it
sounded-as if a C-130 was motionless low over the house. In a normal
state of consciousness-which I really thought I had -I would have
awakened Casey to hear it, too, but I didn’t. Instead, six or seven
minutes after first hearing it, I just fell asleep. It didn’t occur
to me to resist.
For over a year I had kept the attitude that I wouldn’t acknowledge
alien contact back in my life, in our lives, without strong, overt
experiences. I had also been praying, in my fashion, to whatever
good and loving and true higher forces may be out there, asking for
two things: that they guide me to know and follow the power of
goodness; and that they communicate with me in an overt manner,
without any subtlety or ambiguity. I prayed for help, for
information that would be clear enough for a child to understand, as
I realized my level of understanding and perception were about that
rudimentary in dealing with the aliens. I wanted a communication
that couldn’t be dismissed, variously interpreted, or ambiguous as
to its nature.
On May 10, 1993, I may have gotten a partial answer to that prayer,
although great caution is called for in assessing any contacts
before accepting them at face value. This particular contact
conformed exactly to other abductees’ descriptions of the VRS dream
and was the first of its kind I had experienced to such a degree.
I was in the middle of a normal dream when suddenly I was somehow
removed from that dream and found myself sitting in a chair, in a
darkened area, accompanied by entities I wasn’t allowed to see. They
spoke to me, clearly and frequently, throughout the event. I was
facing a small stage area, which I now feel was more holographic
than solidly three-dimensional even though at the time it looked
quite realistic. My “hosts” told me I was to watch a scenario played
out on the stage.
It began with a scene from Genesis, in which Esau returned home
feeling so hungry he feared he would die. His younger brother Jacob
was sitting there eating a bowl of pottage, and Esau begged him to
share it. Jacob said he would give Esau the food, but only in
exchange for Esau’s birthright as the oldest son of Isaac. I heard
Esau say, It won’t do me any good to have the birthright if I die of
starvation, so I’ll agree to trade it for the food.
Then the scenario on stage changed to another part of the brothers’
story. In this second scene, Isaac was very old and blind and knew
that he was close to death. He called for Esau to be brought to him
to receive the laying-on of hands that would confer the inheritance.
Jacob wrapped an animal skin around his arm and presented it for his
father’s touch. Isaac felt the fur and believed it was the arm of
his very hairy eldest son. So in his ignorance of this deception he
conferred the blessing and gave Jacob that which rightfully belonged
to Esau.
The play ended, and then it started right up again, playing out
several more times as my hosts discussed its meaning with me. At
various points they would stop the action, much as we pause a video
tape, and would point out some specific detail and tell me what it
meant, what it symbolized, and what the message was trying to
convey.
They told me not to focus on the biblical aspect of the play, that
their message had nothing to do with any actual Jacob and Esau, but
that the story was designed to illustrate important information
about what the aliens are doing to humans, both in the past and in
the present. The hosts went through the play with me several times,
pointing out details and saying things like, Okay? Let’s try it
again. Now watch closely. And the play would proceed.
After several repetitions, I suddenly “woke up” in my bed, amazed by
what I’d just seen. I got out of bed for a while, trying to discern
the nature of the event, whether dream-like or externally generated,
and I also pondered on the meaning of the scenario. When I lay back
down, as soon as I touched the pillow I was suddenly back in the
chair, facing the stage, and my hosts said we would now resume. Once
again the play began running, as did the explication offered by my
abductors. And when they apparently were satisfied, the action
ceased and the abductors gave me a clearly delineated summary of the
things I was meant to perceive.
Esau, the older and hairier brother, they explained, represents the
original human species on this planet. Jacob represents the altered
product of alien genetic manipulations of that older species. The
aliens produced this new variant and then used it to replace the
original form.
In our current situation, the aliens are once again doing genetic
alterations of our species and are once again trying to produce a
variant which will be more useful for their purposes and which will
supplant us. And again it will be attempted through deception, as
Jacob deceived Isaac. This deception, I was told, is being carried
out by the aliens through exploitation and manipulation of global
events, including weather phenomenon, to make us believe that the
planet is in imminent danger of cataclysm and destruction.
This is why they impress the idea of coming destruction upon so many
abductees,
telling then they will have tasks to perform at that time. They want
us, as a race, to be so
afraid of this upcoming destruction that when they show themselves
openly and offer to save us in some way, we will be willing to take
their help, even if it means giving up our birthright, so to speak,
which is preeminence on this planet.
Like Esau in his hunger, we
will say,
“What good does it do us to keep our birthright if we’re
all going to be destroyed along with the planet? What have we got to
lose if we accept alien help, even though that means accepting alien
control? Better to survive under subjugation than not at all.”
But my hosts stressed that this is all a deception, that our planet,
without their intervention, is not in imminent danger. These
terrible disasters we see-the flooding, hurricanes, and
earthquakes-are sometimes being intensified by the very aliens who
will then come in and offer to save us from “inevitable”
destruction. We should not believe them, I was told emphatically.
And we must not surrender our sovereignty to them, as that would
mean we were truly lost forever.
After this, I knew nothing more until waking in the morning, very
disturbed by what I’d been shown. I had no way of identifying the
source of this event and never caught even a glimpse of my
abductors, who stayed behind me in the dark. I couldn’t deduce
anything about the event from my past encounters, because this one
was completely different. I knew I hadn’t been taken anywhere,
because I woke up consciously in the midst of the experience and was
able to check my physical surroundings. And there was no doubt in my
mind that during the encounter I was not asleep; in fact, I remember
being so awake when I was removed to the chair that I thought, How
can they snatch me right out of a dream like that?
The experience seemed designed in some ways to fulfill the request
I’d made for a straightforward, clearly comprehensible communication
that would be helpful. They must have taken me at my literal word,
for the message was reinforced in every conceivable way: visually,
repetitiously, and verbally. So did that mean I could accept it as
coming from a benevolent source? Could I test or trust its accuracy?
All I could do, finally, was hold the message in reserve and compare
it to the events that occur as time passes. At least parts of what
they told me I already knew to be true. The aliens do make a
practice of giving abductees information about a coming time of
destruction or change. With the many natural disasters of recent
time, it is an easy message to believe. And they have engaged in
what appears to be genetic processes for years, according to
abduction accounts, as well as taking credit time and time again for
the creation of the human species. But even these two “facts” I
still had to question, because in neither case could we objectively
verify the activities.
Things around our home went back to normal after that, until the
middle of July, when a series of odd noises started to plague us. We
heard everything from large plastic ware (nonexistent, of course)
shattering on our wood floors, to gigantic invisible woodpeckers
hammering away in the living room. Things got even stranger one
evening in August, when Casey and I had a parallel and infuriating
experience. I heard him ask me a question, and when I turned around
to answer him, instead he answered it himself. Both of us heard the
other one ask the question, it turned out, although neither of us
had even been thinking about the subject.
Throughout August and September, there was an undercurrent of
tension in our lives that felt just as it had back in 1988, after
alien contact had renewed with Casey but before he was consciously
aware of it. His usual coping mechanism for work and personal
concerns seemed impaired, so that almost every interaction was
stressful.
The stress was affecting me, too, leading to recurrent insomnia and
sleep disruptions. I started doing something I’ve never done in the
past-leaving my bed, and Casey, to try to rest elsewhere. Sometimes
I’d lie on the couch, with the dogs nearby on another couch, and
sometimes I wrapped up in a blanket and slept fitfully on the guest
bed. There were no conscious events to show that anything suspicious
was occurring, but the insomnia was not normal, and neither was my
willingness to be separated from Casey.
We weren’t in step with each other or comfortable with ourselves in
those weeks. I became worried as the situation seemed to go on and
on, but I couldn’t pick up any clue from Casey about his thoughts.
Given all that had happened in the past months, I should have asked
him if he thought the stress indicated suppressed memories of new
contacts. But I was honestly afraid to ask and risk a confrontation
with something that felt so heavy or ominous.
It was Casey who broke the silence, one night as we drove home from
visiting friends. In the quiet of the evening drive, he began to
talk after a long period of silence, seriously and very tentatively.
I could feel he was searching for a way to be both confiding with me
and reassuring of my feelings at the same time.
What he told me were the details of two dreams. The first one had
occurred in early September, but he hadn’t told me at the time. When
the second one occurred later in the month, however, he had
described it to me the next morning. I recalled he said we were a
team of detectives in the dream, and then he sketched out the
details of our pursuit of two suspects. We had chosen to follow one
of them, a woman, but when we caught up with her we realized she was
innocent, that the other suspect was the guilty party.
“I think it was a symbolic message,” he told me that morning. “I
think it was telling me that you and I are on the right path in this
work with the abduction situation. We’re following the truth, that’s
what the beautiful woman we caught represented.”
In our talk in the car, Casey began by telling me about the first
dream, from early September, and I could see why he’d been reluctant
to discuss it.
“Something’s been going on,” he said, “and I want to tell you about
it. I had a dream earlier this month. It woke me up, and I looked at
the clock. It was around 4 a.m. I thought there would be plenty of
sleep time left so I wouldn’t be tired when I got up for work.
Satisfied, I rolled over and started to drift off, when I remembered
what the dream was about. And I noticed then, and only then, that my
heart was still pounding faster than usual.
“I thought there must have been something to that dream, so I tried
to remember more.
There was a strong odor of spicy sweat and a stronger scent of fear
in the dream. I think
I was nude, and so was this woman who was sending out fear and pain
signals. She seemed to be very confused and upset by the situation.
I felt dazed and angry, dazed by whatever control was being exerted
on my mind to get me into this situation, and angry at being in the
situation in the first place.
“I felt pity and sorrow for her, so I held her gently and tried to
calm her down. I tried to talk normally, and that seemed to reassure
her and give her back some sense of control. When she calmed down, I
awoke. And immediately, I remember now, I smelled the air to see if
there was any scent from the dream left on me. But there wasn’t.”
“Did you recognize the woman?” I asked. “Do you know her?”
“Yeah,” Casey said, naming a casual acquaintance with whom we’ve
never had any social involvement. “I really tried to think it was
just a dream,” he said, “and that maybe I was going through some
sort of mid-life mental quake, but I don’t think that’s it. Anyway,
I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to worry you. But
after the second dream, I can’t keep this quiet any more.”
“Why?” I asked. “Was it something awful?”
“No,” he said, “it wasn’t a bad dream. Do you remember me telling
you the dream where we were detectives?”
“Yes,” I replied, recalling the conversation quite clearly.
“Well, that was the dream,” Casey continued. “I told you about it at
breakfast, and we talked about whether it was symbolic. And I really
thought it was. Until two days ago.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I was at the mall with a friend for lunch,” he said. “We had eaten
and were heading around to the escalator, and then this woman came
around the corner, dressed all in black. She was blonde, genuine
blonde, and her skin matched the color, eyes, too. She looked at me,
started to lift up her arms, and said, ‘H-h-hello!’ And then she
seemed to get real confused and walked on past me.”
“What did you do then?” I asked. “Did you go after her or talk to
her?”
“No,” he said, “we went up the escalator , and when I got to the top
I turned and looked back down there. She was still there, looking
very disoriented, and then she walked off slowly.”
“So what did that have to do with the dreams?” I wondered.
“That woman in the mall,” Casey said, “was the same woman I saw in
the detective
dream. That was her! In the flesh! I recognized her immediately, and
I swear she acted
like she recognized me, too. You know how you’ll reach out to hug a
friend you
haven’t seen in a long time? That’s how it was, and when she reached
for me I was
starting to reach for her, too.”
“What do you think is going on?” I asked. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I thought that was just a dream, but
there was the real woman. So now I don’t know if the first one was a
dream, either. And that was a bad situation.”
“Do you remember anything specifically sexual happening in the first
one?” I asked, thinking of the encounters in other abductee reports.
“I didn’t see anything like that happen,” Casey told me. “I only saw
us kneeling in front of each other, nude and scared and angry. We
were in a circle of bright light that came from somewhere above us,
and everything outside of that was too dark to see. But I sensed it
was a very large room. Something could have gone on, either before
that or after, and I just don’t remember.”
“How did you feel, while it was happening?”
“I didn’t feel sexual. It was more a very deep sorrow because that
woman was in such terrible panic and fear and pain. It was so thick
I could almost grab it in the air, all that emotion. All I wanted to
do was make her feel better, give her some comfort, and that’s what
I remember doing. Just holding her and talking.”
“Have you seen her, I mean in person, since the dream?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So how did she seem? Did she say anything?”
“No, she didn’t say a word. I passed her on a stairway, and she
looked at me very intently. I think her face even turned red, and
then she looked down at the stairs and went on by.”
“Does she usually say hello when you see each other?”
“Yes, she’s always been friendly in the past,” Casey said. “I don’t
know why she acted like that, unless that whole thing wasn’t really
a dream. But there’s no way I can ask her about it, we don’t know
each other that well at all.”
“And we don’t have a clue as to finding the woman in the mall,” I
remarked, wishing we could ask her if she really remembered the
incident in Casey’s dream.
“No, I never saw her before,” he said. “But we had a connection,
when we were looking at
each other, a very strong connection. I looked at her, and then it
was like I was inside
her head, her eyes, looking back out at myself. And I could feel
her, in a way, that she
really is good, a good person. She’s not responsible
for whatever might have happened. If anything really did.”
That was the question we were always left to face, the nature of an
event’s reality. In some reports, two people have separately
recalled being in an identical dream or situation, and in those
cases the people involved can feel more certain of the dream or
event’s objective reality.
But it doesn’t always happen that way.
Sometimes one person will have a traumatic experience involving
another person, and the reality of the event is so convincing that
the experiencer believes the other person was truly involved, no
matter how impossible time and location considerations may seem.
Granted, there is plenty of evidence for the aliens’ ability to
manipulate time and space, so the objective reality of such events
cannot automatically be dismissed. But there is also hard evidence
that the aliens are masters of illusion, total-sensory,
gut-and-heart-wrenching illusion, generated by an external
mechanism. And when an abductee is in an altered state, the illusion
is very convincing to his controlled perceptions.
This lesson had been brought home by the extraordinary VRS involving
Amelia that Ted and Marie witnessed in 1991, and now I was seeing,
possibly, with my husband’s bewildered emotions, just how masterful
the aliens’ deceptive mechanisms can be. For Amelia, the event had
been a virtual-reality solo flight, the external product or result
of the blue sphere technology and its creators. Knowing this, I
wondered if Casey’s dreams were objective or virtual experiences,
the product of some similar technology, and so did he. The only
thing he knew to be “real” was the nameless woman he came face to
face with in the mall.
This experience, all of our experiences and those of the eight women
recounted here, define the abduction phenomenon. It is complex,
ambiguous, deceptive, inconsistent, traumatic, physical, and
metaphysical, with no single or clear purpose. There are patterns
and possibilities, but none so plainly verifiable that everyone can
agree on the facts, much less the larger truth, of the agenda.
If all that Casey and I knew about alien abductions was limited to
our own experiences, we would have a very different picture of the
situation. And we would be much more vulnerable to alien
manipulations or programming in our ignorance. It is only when we
consider our experiences within the larger context of Amy’s
experiences, and Beth’s and Lisa’s and the experiences of the
thousands of other abductees, that we gain enough knowledge to get
past the personal illusions.
And it is only by giving up our wishful
ideas and facing the data squarely that any of us can hope to
penetrate to the actuality of these events, to come to terms with
“what is” rather than what we wish it to be.
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