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The Face At the End of the Bed, August 1986
At last I tell the story of the moment when I knew I was interacting with aliens on a regular basis.
It was early to mid August when my world broke apart. My bed was back in the corner where it belonged. Curtains were covering the foot of it, blocking my view of my bedroom door, but putting me in the area furthest from the door, window, and closet door. (All these areas made me nervous.) My insomnia had become entrenched over the summer, and I no longer slept at night at all if I could help it. I prepared as best I could to face each terrifying night alone in my room, not knowing how to explain myself to anyone and so not even bothering to try.
All I knew is that I was scared. I wasn't sure what I was scared of… spirits? Is that what was causing all the nightmares and odd experiences? Demons? Fairies? It seemed like a crazy wild mixture of all these things. If felt like I was paranormally cursed. I couldn't escape from the appeal I apparently held for all these reality anomalies. I felt tormented.
Then one night I had my answer- or at least a part of it.
I was reading Jean Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear for like the 7th time, just trying to keep my mind on something besides my fears. I didn't have a radio on for company, because after the whole radio voices incident of a couple of years before, I was too afraid of what might come through the radio. So, with the window open to a cooling breeze, my family sound asleep, I lay on my bed in comfy summer clothes in full light, propped up against pillows, book in my hand. The side curtains on my bed were wide open, exposing a view of the room, for the benefit of the cool air from the window. It was about 3 am when it happened and I was wide awake.
It was so quick and simple. I was reading when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye by the corner of my bed. So of course I looked up at it.
… I find it difficult to convey the moment accurately to other people. It was such a short duration of time, but long enough that there could be no mistake about what I was seeing. Everything in my life changed in that quick few seconds of time and I haven't been the same since. If I could point to the most pivotal few seconds of my entire life– this is IT. I mean, I've seen them while awake since then, but nothing is quite like the shock of the first time an intruding reality is UNDENIABLE.
I saw a face. A half a face– peering around my bed frame and curtains at the foot of my bed. It wasn't right up next to the curtains, but rather a foot or so back from it, and it had very slowly and carefully moved into a position where it could see me with one eye. Kind of like that scene from the movie Communion, but there's no way to capture the biggest part of what that eye contact is like. I mean, the creep factor is already over the top, but its worse than you might imagine.
Because this guy (and I knew it was male) was telepathic. Just even bare eye contact while I was in a fully conscious state was nearly so overwhelming as to make me feel insane. I knew that I knew that– THING– that was staring at me. But it wasn't a thing. It was a being. An intelligent being that wasn't supposed to exist, but there it was!
[This is from a bust made of a being Betty Andreasson Luca called "Quazgaa"-- which is the closest image to what I saw.]
It had very light gray skin, very smooth. No lips, very flat, small nose (almost unnoticeable), and large, almond-shaped eyes that wrapped around its head (but not too much) WITH black pupils in white, not all-black eyes like most of them.
As I made eye-contact, I could FEEL this being in my head with me on some level. I had an instant feeling of familiarity, and a ghost of many, many memories started to float to the surface. I'd seen this guy before! He was the one who came for me most of the time. I saw him when I was a child –the one who escorted me back after being taken by tall greys in black cowboy hats?– Yeah, HIM. Same guy. (At the time, I didn't remember that incident of the pajama hybrid kids or the cowboy greys, but now I know its him.)
Looking INTO each other, there was this queer telepathic “echo effect.” I could not only feel him in my head and have an instant level of understanding and knowing of what HE was thinking. (Pretty much a supremely cautious approach and incredible alarm and dismay that I had “caught” him– a definite “uh-oh” reaction of having made a mistake in being seen that was very pronounced.) But I knew that he knew me and remembered me as an individual, and what's more I could feel this instant level of intimate understanding of one another from our interactions over time. Almost like friendship.
And I was babbling in my head, “Oh my god! There's a thing looking at me and it is real. Its really real and its there and oh-my-god I can't believe this! There's a thing and its an…. ALIEN. There's an alien in my room!” Try to imagine saying that really, really fast in your head and saying it over and over again to yourself in a complete panic state– and that was what I was doing. I could feel him in my head and I knew that he could hear me babbling to myself. I knew he could tell I remembered him a little bit– that I recognized him. That in those few seconds (2? 3?) that we stared at one another I realized what was behind all the paranormal freakiness in my life. There was an agent of sorts and THIS GUY was a part of it. And I realized the “spirit” attacks were THEM. The feeling of being watched and taken was from THEM. And even my strange fantasies as a kid where I talked to myself about aliens– weren't fantasies, they were REAL. They were real and HE was real and here he was RIGHT HERE and I was looking at him right now!
The echo went on, although very much faster than I can describe here. I knew his mind. I knew his mind knew my mind. I knew his mind knew my mind was knowing his mind. I could even feel an echo of “others” connected to him somehow. He was connected to a much larger group mind on top of his own individual mind– and it was like all these consciousnesses were connecting and sort of bouncing off one another really, really fast.
And in those seconds, my entire reality worldview got smashed. It was the most horrific thing I've ever faced. It was so awful that right in that moment I wanted to be dead. Death wasn't as scary as facing this reality and this being. I became seriously suicidal for over a year after this incident. Privately, I battled with myself over whether it was worth it to even live knowing these beings could come and take me and do whatever they wanted and I could never defend myself. Its not that I wanted to die– its that I couldn't bear the high level of my own fear. The terror and horror were so overwhelming (and I was a scaredy-cat to begin with anyway!) that escape from it by any means, even death, were my utmost priority.
My brain was re-wired into extreme Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that lasted for over 20 years. The worst of the initial trauma was just from those seconds of looking into an alien's eye and feeling it look back into my soul. I felt exposed at a level that is impossible to describe– worse than naked and oiled up for a feast of cannibals. It wasn't my body that was vulnerable, it was the “me-me” inside my own head. The “me” I know was a teensy, tiny, little squeaking mouse under the shadow of the foot of an enormous elephant that was the mind of this being– or maybe it plus the group-mind it was connected to. I've never felt so small. Every bit of who I was was known and could not be hidden or held back in any special way– because there was NO privacy for myself from this being.
(You know, everyone complains about being ultimately alone and often lonely because of it. Let me tell you, after being so completely exposed in this way to other minds in a way that takes that away forever– COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS.)
What I thought was real was gone. What everyone taught me was real was bullshit. I now KNEW for a fact that something tremendously huge and way beyond me was going on in my life and I was unaware of most of it. Multitudes of possibilities opened up all in a second while I confronted this alien being standing all of only 4 and a half feet tall (I could measure later against my bed– almost exactly 4'6″) and I could not handle it.
Then he left. He moved so fast I saw a trailing streak left in the air like a cartoon or something.
Without thought, I leapt out of bed, flinging my book to the floor. I stood in the center of the room looking at my bedroom door (which had never opened, but I somehow remembered that THEY could go through solid objects, so no door could hold them back.)
And I started screaming.
I don't mean normal yelping, either. I mean a scream had already started a second into seeing the being, and now it was coming out of my throat and mouth almost without my even 'being there' to hear it. I was reacting on automatic. I felt oddly removed from my own noises, and just sort of found myself stuck on the floor screaming my lungs out. It was 3-something in the morning in the summer. I was in a suburban area on a main road with homes closely packed together. I screamed for over an hour. I couldn't stop for a while. I was too afraid to move from my place standing on the floor of my bedroom.
But no one ever woke up.
No one came to check on me. No cars drove past. No neighbors called the police. A high-pitched scream that goes on and on and on is going to attract attention– and yet it didn't. The longer I screamed and had no response the more desperate and futile I felt. What was going on in the world?
I don't exactly remember when I stopped, but I know I must have before dawn hit with its faint light around 5ish in the morning because it was still dark when I was silent again. I kept watching my clock radio to make sure I didn't skip time. For some reason, I knew to watch for that, and there was no issue there. At last, a car drove past. Then another. I heard my family get up to go to the bathroom like it was a normal morning. But I sat on the floor and cried for a long time.
Nothing was ever normal again.
2012-08-29 03:07:48
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