Author’s note:

I am “he” …

And this recollection is genuine.

However, I chose the pronoun, “he”, to make this vividly recalled abduction, more easily acceptable to the uninitiated reader.

ABDUCTION RECOLLECTION:

He is flying high over a lush green tree landscape, over rolling tree lined hills and though he knows that it must be night, within the tractor light-beam, under a moving craft,  the fields and countryside below are lit up as though it were day, but he knows it’s night, because he is told that he is dreaming.

For a few brief seconds, until he is drawn into the craft, he sees the green granular nature of the trees below, and feels the  visual exhilaration of flying, but rather than fear, he is filled with a combined sense of peace and joyous happiness.

He marvels at the texture and color of his neighborhood, and his movement above it.  He is dreaming, but he is awake.  The smaller craft lands near a much larger ship, hiding in plain sight, in a field.

He is told by a small, dark, grey alien, always just out of sight, that he is to wait on line, for a tour of a country estate.

He is numb and is  surreal vividly dreaming,  but he feels that he is awake.  He  moves forward, people in front of him and in back of him,   on a narrow path surrounded by a false screen memory of a flat, unidimensional static scene,  a photograph of an English garden. 

It is hot and humid with the rank smell of soil.  People clutch what looks like brochures and move slowly in a single line, towards the country estate, bored, and only mildly interested.  He approaches the door of the large alien craft.  A ticket taker sits at the entrance way, on a stool behind a lectern, observing the entering crowd, a doorway official seen as a slim teenager.

 He thinks it odd, that such a young caretaker should seemingly be in charge, and as he lifts his eyes to meet the teen’s gaze,  the young boy turns into a kindly old man.

“It’s mind control, not shape-shifting”, he is told, by a sonorous tour-guide’s voice, in answer to his unasked thought.

Everyone is awake but also dreaming.  Inside is a waiting room, dirty, dull and round, a white room with no adornments and a black floor.

He awakens, dreaming and feels that the room is in flight.  It is a dream within a dream. Awake again, briefly, he is dreaming while standing upright, walking in his sleep, climbing  a steep metal stairway ladder path-bridge, that leads to a very large room at the top of the stairs.  Someone in front of him dreams, and wakes up dreaming.

He looks to his right, as he climbs, to see  an enormous domed -curved window which makes up the staircase’s whole upper wall of the alien craft, and as he climbs, feeling very numb, he pauses, and stops the line of mass abducted people.

He looks out of the window and sees the Earth and the Moon, opposite each other, hanging in the blackness of space.   He places his arms on the curved railing where the staircase meets the bottom of the window and cups his chin in his hands, to understand the raw beauty of what he sees: 

Outside is blackness…

The Earth, in the far right portion of the glass window, hangs suspended in a black nothingness, a planet swimming in blue-white haze, with a large red area, perhaps, the desert of North Africa, or the Arabian peninsula.

Silver and bright, the Moon, far to the left portion of the glass, also hangs suspended in a black nothingness.  Far away, violet splashes of nebulae, and points of red pinpoint starlight, intersperse with millions of white stars.  Chin in his hands, he leans over and says in a wistful, admiring tone,

 “These people who live at THIS estate have some view; what a view!”

The small, dark, grey alien tour guide became startled and all at once,  the window’s 3-D space scene, becomes  a painted uni-dimensional flat portrait,  of an English garden landscape.

Chin in hands, still looking out of the window, but now at the expanse of poster-like green lawn, of a garden landscape, he dully repeats,

“They DO have a nice view!”

The tour guide, startled to hear him repeat this praise, seemingly unaware that the scene of the garden had already worked to distract him,  knee-jerk- reflex -overreacted; he is slammed with a mind control jolt.
                               
The alien creature tightens and magnifies its short psychic leash of control to throw him into a vivid emotional ecstasy, and he feels compelled to look down at his feet, and away from the window’s view.

The simple metallic ladder- path underfoot, transforms into carved inlaid wood one, delicately patterned and dazzlingly ornate, an inlaid ebony and maple wood design, cryptic and deeply beautiful in motif and complexity.

He is forced to kneel to examine it, his eyes now fully away from the stars, Earth and moon, seen outside the enormous, curved window .

Powerful awe, love, and wood -admiration, a godlike reverence of wood, flashes through his mind at the mirage of the intricate wood designed staircase, suspended in air.   Complex, gorgeous and lushly constructed, a staircase in multicolored woods,  forces an almost religious awe, which courses through his brain,  to thrill him, a tsunami of reverent awe for the dazzling wood patterns, and for the unknown artist-architect, overwhelms and distracts him, a gifted attempt to get him to forget what he has seen outside of the craft’s window.

The sleeping line of climbing people is now fully stopped by his fawning and repeated examinations, of the simple metal staircase, as he repeatedly retraces his steps to examine it, in a rapture.

.

The tour guide, just out of sight, presumes that the delusion is strong enough to have worked and he hears a resonant, deep, paternal, impatient voice, now within his head, “Just keep going; it will be there, for you to see, when you get back.”

“But, things change so quickly, in dreams”,  he thinks, “and this gorgeous wood stairway, will likely not be there, when I return.”

He lingers, enthralled.

The alien ‘ guide’,  who tethers him and all the others, within a snug cocoon of illusions, had deftly made a simple, metal staircase, the un-rightful recipient of that stolen awe, of the magnificent scene viewed outside the craft’s window. But when he awakens, he DOES remember the staircase and  his monumental awe of the spectacular space scene, outside the curved window, of the alien craft;

“Astounding creatures, uncanny, psychic, mind-bending, short- leash-controls…”  

He  dully thinks, when he awakens exhausted, with a dull headache and a copious nose bleed, more tired getting up, than he had been, going to bed.  And ‘dreams’, in a gnawing realization, could no longer ever again, be trusted  to merely be, .. ‘dreams’…

Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for me, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL I saw aliens float me out of my body, in my bed, at night.  Then, I knew that they were more interested in an essence, that I never suspected I had: -> a Soul.

http://soulofwit.com/PaulSchroeder 

*******

Postscript

Rather than a fear-based approach to Dark Force Entity safety and caution, I prescribe a required spiritual “shift”  towards the equally unseen goodness of the spirit world, and away from fear.

Unlearning fear is a step-by-step acceptance and assertion, of one’s spiritual ‘Self’, a distance far and away from fearful  defenses mustered by one’s material physical self.

One’s longitudinal approach to any self-defense must be a spiritual one, and not a physical one.

For defenses to flare, one must  recognize that one is not a person having troubled spiritual problems, but instead an eternal soul having troubling human experiences.  From the stance of self-recognition as an eternal spirit, one can then insist on “one’s own space’ as spiritual fruition.

Avoid  church-based or organized religions and put the Bible on the same shelf as “The Tooth Fairy,” for God is real, but He’s to be found down a long hall, and somewhere else…

Paul Schroeder

Brooklyn, New York