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