Reflection

Missing the paranormal in my life

Now and then, I tell those who may be interested – those who probably won’t laugh at me or think I am pulling a proverbial limb – about nine months, between 1996–97, when I experienced a paranormal event almost every day. Anything and everything – contact with extraterrestrial and/or inter-dimensional beings, timeslips, alternate or time-traveling versions of myself contacting my present self, men in black, spirits, and a plethora of dreams that were more than just “dreams”.

It is profound enough to have the occasional paranormal experience, or even a single one in a lifetime; it is difficult to explain what it’s like to have them everyday for an extended period of time. And while I was frightened, confused, and exhausted during that period, when the events came to a halt, I found myself wanting – missing – their presence, because I had to return to living a (relatively) mundane existence.

I was just there

It wasn’t me, it was a woman I was seeing – the paranormal surrounded

her and I happened to be in the right place at the right time; or the wrong place at the wrong time, however it’s perceived. I was involved with a small downtown theater in San Diego. In the summer of 1995, they produced one of my plays and I found myself in a romantic relationship with the director. I moved into her cottage; it was surrounded by leafy trees and tall high-rises. We agreed on an open relationship since it is almost impossible to remain monogamous within the theater scene. I started to see an actress who was in another play of mine, a married woman I will call “Terri”. Terri was nine years older than I was – I was thirty. She was bored and frustrated with her monotonous state government job and wanted the instability and uncertainty of the artistic life; a life as an actress or playwright. The grass is always greener, they say.

But she had quite an exciting secret life: she told me that she had been abducted by aliens a number of times since she was a child. Her earliest memory was at age nine: she had been taken into what she thought was an underground facility; two typical alien beings, the grays – the tall ones,

not the short – each held one of her hands and led her down a long corridor. She noticed a few human males in military uniforms looking at her. That was all she could recall and it seemed dream-like. She and her sister would both get frightened at the closing credits of Star Trek where they showed Beloq – the alien with the large head and eyes. They didn’t know why they reacted that way. The rest of her fragmented memories were the same: scenes of being taken down hallways, placed onto a table, but nothing more tangible than that.

I knew there had to be more to it.

Hybrid babies

Terri did not have children; she did not want any. “If my husband asked me for one, I would,” she said, but her husband – who had no idea of our affair – did not ask.

There had been times during her adult life when she’d suspected she was pregnant and she did not know how she could be, since she employed all necessary precautions. Then the feeling would go away and she’d

assume it had been her imagination. I suspected she might have been used for the gray’s hybrid breeding program. When I mentioned this to her, she appeared disturbed.

I suspected she might have been used for the gray’s hybrid breeding program. When I mentioned this to her, she appeared disturbed.

After we had broken up, after the paranormal activity came to an end, I started having dreams that were more like vague memories of alien encounters. I got online and asked members of the San Diego MUFON (Mutual UFO Network, which has a chapter in every major US city and in Europe) if they knew of a hypnotherapist who specialized in regressing alien abduction memories. Several folks recommended a certain doctor who specialized in trauma therapy, who had a few patients connected to MUFON.

I went to him, at $100 an hour, and he put me under hypnosis and this is what I remembered:

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