I wrote a sequel of sorts to my first book I Know Why The Aliens Don’t Land! titled The Skeleton Key To All Worlds. Ultimately, I scrapped the project and picked from its parts material that became Urgency.
If nothing else, these beings we call “alien” love a well-timed joke. The joke they played on me was giving me my most in-your-face encounter with them I’d ever had shortly after publishing I Know Why The Aliens Don’t Land! Naturally, I wrote it into the unpublished sequel.
I’m toying with the idea of releasing an ebook version of I Know Why… with material from The Skeleton Key To All Worlds but formatting it is daunting and I have other projects on my plate at the moment. However, I told the Paratopia Facebook Group I’d publish this encounter from The Skeleton Key… on my blog, so here it is.
The first part comes from chapter 6–called Cyber Six because it details in typical comically-crass me fashion my first time having sex with a gal I met online. Her screen name was Wildcherry, so that’s what I use as a pseudonym. The important point here for all you Trickster theorists is, I had a fear of intimacy revolving around the fear that I’d be introducing this abduction stuff into my significant other’s life. Night one I lost my virginity and breathed a sigh of relief that no “aliens” stuck their probes through the wall like Porky’s. Night two, on the other hand–boom! Porky’s 2: The Next Day. Wait, no–I mean aliens. Just ridiculous with that comic timing again.
And with that, we pick up in the middle of the chapter….
excerpt from Cyber Six
Later that night….
Wildcherry and I are snoozing away the wee dawn hours on my floor mattress. I don’t know what time it is but it must be between three and six because we got to sleep really late and it isn’t light out yet. Correction: it is light out. It’s very light out. In fact there’s so much light pouring in through my bedroom windows that it wakes me. The quality of light is strange. It’s bright yet dull. Foggy. Like the sun shining evenly through a thick, thick fog.
I prop myself up on my left arm and just stare at this. Wildcherry remains out cold, unmoved by the brightness. I collapse onto my back and now see that there are three beings standing over me to my right. I am terrified but don’t scream. The beings are short, not more than four feet tall. They are wearing brown tunics. Their skin is gray and from what I can see of their hooded heads they are bald. They have diminutive facial features, save for the eyes, which are huge black oval pools. If human eyes are the windows to the soul these eyes are windows to the infinite depths of everything.
There is something else curious about them: They have a playful nature. The one closest my face, at least, is smirking and exudes this childlike naivety. It is as if they want me to come play and yet I am horrified beyond the meaning of the term. They never speak a word to me. Wildcherry remains unconscious.
The next thing I know—and there is no transition here, it’s literally just the very next moment—I am standing in another room altogether. I’m wearing the boxer shorts I went to sleep in. The room is long and open, not quite cavernous but the illusion of that given the lighting.
About ten feet in front of me begins a row of tables vertical to my sightline. I’m not sure how many tables there are, maybe 5. They’re lit from above by unseen sources. The fixtures, if indeed that’s what they are, give off that same misty/foggy light that had flooded my room. These are the only sources of illumination. Outside of the tables, everything is black and empty.
There are people lying on the tables. Humans. Strangers. Men and women. Naked. Immobile. Unconscious. One closest to me is a blond-haired woman, Caucasian, in her late forties or early fifties. A bunch of similar beings—maybe even the same ones who brought me here—stand around her table. They are examining her in an inclusive way as if letting me in on the situation, like they’re saying, “See? This is what we do for a living.”
Standing there and observing this, I’m totally calm, the antithesis of the terror that plagued me when they stood in my bedroom. ‘Why am I seeing this,’ I wonder silently.
A female voice answers in my head, “Because you’ve always wanted to remember an abduction.” The voice is calm, soothing, and familiar. I know this woman. I know this woman. She is not human and I am not on earth.
The telepathic voice and I have a lengthy discussion. I remember it long enough to jot it when I’m returned to my bed, but I don’t. I let it go.
This wasn’t a dream, this was real. But it couldn’t be. What are the odds? That light in my window… Why didn’t it wake the whole neighborhood? No, this was a dream.
No it wasn’t.
No it wasn’t.
Shut up and sleep.
In the following chapter, we get a sequel, of sorts. It’s not a lot but just enough to confirm the first incident. I could no longer hide behind the “It couldn’t have happened because the light outside would have woken up all of Queens” denial. Here we see that the foggy light isn’t, for instance, shining down from an aerial ship. It could be a portal; it could be something else. Whatever it is, the fact that it appeared the first time outside my window does not indicate that it wasn’t concentrated right there and/or directional for only me to see.
I had no direct link between the meditation energy and alien abductions. After I’d initiated it back in the old apartment there was a night when I felt and heard an enormous crunch followed by a boom high up in my nasal cavity. I felt it reverberate throughout my skull. I thought I was having an aneurysm and was about to die. It felt like it should have hurt but somehow I was anesthetized so the episode felt numb as opposed to excruciating.
Instead of dying, this really bad sci-fi grid of the earth appeared in my mind’s eye. It was a green 3-D model of our planet. It was spinning slowly, as earth is prone to do, and then suddenly ice from the north slid over the North American continent. This wasn’t a vision in the same way I’d have visions bleed into view years later. This was more like a computer simulation…uuuuuh…beamed into me, for lack of a better term. It crackled and popped with an electricity I could see. I’m tellin’ ya, it looked like a bad Atari graphic, but it did its job. I now feared some huge natural catastrophe was going to happen in my lifetime. I figured this was an alien transmission but do I really know?
The second connection was much stronger. This happened in the deep AM of April 17, 2004. I was asleep in bed. I thought I was dreaming that the meditation energy was tapping lines over my face with my hands the way I’d described earlier. The energy does a lot of this tapping, like pressure-point therapy, all over my body. The patterns remind me of the lines native peoples paint on their bodies. Ever wonder where they got the idea?
I thought I was dreaming because this ended with my left hand pinching the bridge above my right nostril like one would do for a bloody nose. The meditation energy had never woken in me while I was asleep before, had never done anything mundane like pinch my nose. I didn’t actually have a bloody nose, so in my tired stupor I thought I was dreaming the whole thing.
The timing of what happened next is hazy. It could have been shortly after or maybe hours later. Not sure. But the next thing I remember happening is waking up because my bedroom was lit up. I thought the sun was rising and invading through my window. I was lying on my right side, facing the wall. I opened my eyes to find my wall missing. Where my wall with its posters and pictures should have been was this field of blinding white light. It was the same quality of evenly-distributed dull light as I’d experienced that October night with Wildcherry 3 years prior.
As I was lying there staring confusedly into the void that had once been my wall, my nose began to bleed. It didn’t bleed out, though. Instead, it trickled down my throat. Nosebleeds are common to abductees and other forms of nerd, so I think I might have been visited by nerds that night—aliens! Visited by aliens!—and the meditation energy cauterized my nose in preparation of the event so that I wouldn’t bleed all over the sheets. Per usual I didn’t bolt out of bed hysterically screaming or leap through the energy field into Narnia. At least I don’t think I did. Huh.
I don’t recall what happened next and, in fact, I’d forgotten about the episode entirely until I’d climbed out of bed at a decent hour and scampered into the kitchen. There I spoke at length with a subletting roommate named Brian. In the middle of our conversation my nose bled out the left nostril and onto my shirt. With the red torrent rushed memory of the previous night as described.
Welcome, Brian: I’m a bleeder.
This incident was the most solid link I could make between the meditation energy and alien abductions. However, just a month prior, that other quality of energy—the one that enters through the spine—the one I’d only felt twice before, the first unspectacularly, the second ending in possession—remember that? Still with me here? Yeah, on March 25th, 2004 that energy welled up for a third and, as of this book, final time. It was the most spectacular experience of all and one I believed all of this meditation nonsense must have been leading to, for on that morning, just before 6:00am… I became God.