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 about 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.
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 reputation 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 surprised 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 surprised 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," I replied, 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 surprised 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 gray, much less gray 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 "gray." Then I focussed upon his eyes. In the past, we had two pet cockatoos, a Molluscan and a Sulphur-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-little 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 almondshaped 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 would be over the ocean in a matter of minutes, and the nearest major city north of us is Portland OR, nearly 600 miles away. I'm sure this event can be explained rationally, but I decided to mention it because of its unusual nature, and the proximity in time to my strange nocturnal event.
During the course of writing this document, I have had several flashbacks to strange memories. In one memory, I seem to be quite frustrated that I can't see as clearly as I'd like, because I'm not wearing my eyeglasses. I thought this was taking place in an alien craft. In another memory, I seemed to be getting a lecture about the anatomical differences between the alien's brain and ours. He was very interested in a small part of my brain, lying at its center, which he described as "primitive." I think it may have had something to do with emotion, and they didn't have that part of the brain. In contrast, he showed me an image of a part of their brain which we do not have; it was an extra small lobe in the occipital region, overlying both right and left hemispheres equally. I have the feeling that it was used for communication. I don't know how old these memories are, and I don't know 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 brain tumor, or if this could possibly be real. This essay is a desperate plea for help. If there are any qualified UFO researchers, psychologists, or otherwise interested parties who feel like my case warrants further investigation, and would like to help me come to terms with my experiences, I can be reached at:Chris Sargent(707) 585-8076WWIV Net: 82@7706I reserve all rights to this essay. No part of it may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author. I hereby grant permission for the electronic transfer of this file to other Electronic Bulletin Board Systems, provided that this file remains unaltered and intact.
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