Excerpt
THE
OTHERNESS
A Personal Interaction
Tim
Watts
Sirius Publications
Copyright
2003 by Author. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be
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site at www.sirius-books.com.
Some names may have been changed to protect their privacy.
Printed
in the
ISBN
1-930889-43-7
If others have
see what I have seen
It may be a
vision rather than a dream
William Morris
Architect /
artist
About the Author
Tim Watts lives in London, England. When
asked to describe himself, he said, "I have always led what I considered
to be a unfulfilled life, lacking in the common developments that most of us go
through. But then there is this life ..."
Table
of Contents
Introduction
An introduction to esoteric phenomena and
why I believe my experiences were quite unusual even in paranormal terms.
1) The
Secret Mould
My early years and the cryptic preparation
for things that I had no idea existed. This chapter covers strange childhood preoccupations
such as magic, folklore and reservoirs of untaught knowledge.
2) A
Leak in Pandora's Box
Following a flashback memory later in my
adult life, I seemed to remember a strange childhood incident quite
differently, one which pointed to a wealth of deliberately hidden information.
3) Activation
This was perhaps the strangest chapter in
my book and my life. I had started to do things quite out of character that I
couldn't account for together with otherworldly experiences that were almost
indescribable. A new friend had come into my life who didn't seem to be from
this world followed by a bizarre memory that pointed to a classic UFO
abduction. The climax of this strange time ended with an unaccounted ceremony
resembling a Masonic ritual.
4) Living
Programme
Nothing of the above really sunk in until
I triggered a fading memory of a seemingly UFO encounter I believe happened
back in 94. I came to the conclusion that nondescript entities had interacted
in my life right from an early age and perhaps departed during the ceremony.
They seemed to have left some sort of psychic mechanism in my mind that I
believe operates to this day.
5) The
Truth in Yesterday
The psychic mechanism, whatever it was,
spoon-fed the most peculiar information about my personal history that wasn’t
there before. This chapter details those memories alongside my personal
theories and aims to address the significance behind it all. I cannot honestly
say that all these new memories were my own as they pointed towards other
realms, dimensions and even other experiences through a “multi-awareness
phenomena” explained in this chapter.
6) Aftermath
(The New Revelations)
I thought I had actually completed the
book before strange new experiences prompted me to write this chapter. Revelations
still continue to arise.
7)
Postscript
I will never stop waiting for
the answer.
To an animal, the civilised
world must appear a bizarre place. Their knee height perception of the things
we do must appear as puzzling as it is awesome. Our purpose, our values, our
use of time, cognition and memory are things we probably can't even translate
within the animal kingdom. Reality must mean something quite different to different
species.
Over the years, I have come to
believe in the existence of another species, one that is not classified in our
knowledge of the world. I am finally convinced of a higher kingdom of nature
where reality is not only taken in through the five senses and our version of
it is not necessarily the ultimate one.
I cannot help but compare the
relationship we have with this higher world and its species to the relationship
animals have with us. We have probably interacted unknowingly with other realms
for centuries in ways we are not familiar with, ways in which our awareness and
inquisitiveness stretches no further than that of a cage of gerbils when
confronted with their “outside”, the domain of their owners.
Having an awareness of the other side of
nature is nothing new. People all through history have reported periods of
high-strangeness, things which can only be labelled “unexplained”. This is not unlike being the animal that
curiously glimpses the comings and goings of our world and tries to register
what it has seen. This other realm interacts with us at the strangest intervals
and our ability to define it is sometimes as limited as the animal's. I sometimes wonder if our minds are
deliberately designed not to solve the mystery of the universe or think beyond
our reality any more than cattle are supposed to think beyond theirs.
I hope this is not so with the
human race and that our evolution is limitless. If my experience with this
other realm is something which we will eventually evolve to then there are some
breathtaking leaps ahead in our development. I know because I've seen some of
them.
Like many others exposed to the
strangeness of the paranormal and unknown realities, I have sought ways to
define what is going on. This is what anyone would do as a means to feel in
control. The truth is I don't have any control and I am not sure anyone else in
these circumstances really does. All I can possibly do in terms of empowerment
is write about the things that have happened in the way I've interpreted them.
That is what this book is about, my life's interaction with another side of
reality. That doesn't specifically mean ghosts, UFO's or the legend of Atlantis
and interaction doesn't necessarily mean being whisked away by aliens. It means
something else on a deeply personal level that could be the common denominator
to all these phenomena. Ideally it is
about a personal interaction with something that I have come to call the
“Otherness.”
Writing about the presence of
ghosts or extraterrestrials would be a lot easier but that would only add to
the man-made definitions of the paranormal already there and not accurately
tell my story. My encounters have been more of an alternative state of being
than anything else, something which British paranormal researcher Jenny Randles
has come to term the “Oz Factor.” This is a silent dream-like state where
birds, insects and everything around seem to be put on a still pause. It is
where human consciousness will readily accept the bizarre just like dreaming
Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Stage
hypnotists love this state of being and can coax their subjects into doing
almost anything as their conscious sense of critique is down and only
sub-consciousness responds. It also explains how an advanced race of beings
have managed to manipulate my mind into accepting the most outrageous scenarios
without question, just like in a dream. I strongly suspect this is the method
behind many of the reported UFO abductions.
So where exactly do we go when
all this happens? The Otherness is all about that particular place, whether it
be deep in the mind or on another plane of reality. I really don't have the
answer to its location or its existence even but I have been privileged to a
fantastic insight of its mechanisms. It is a peculiar place, an understatement
maybe.
This new state or place of
being bears all the hallmarks of a dream, the inconsistency and the lucidity.
The only difference being that something remarkably significant has actually
taken place whereas a common dream would appear gobbledygook. The sleeping
state appears to be remarkably significant and it seems to be the time when a
subliminal or spiritual species prefer to interact. During the night I often
slipped into an ancient realm which leaves me wondering why others already
haven’t. I am finally convinced of another zone that abductees and “out of body
experiencers” are transported to in their hazy nocturnal hours. I’ve been to
this place and it is fascinating.
In this book I will try to
delve deeper into the stranger aspects of this zone and why the presence of its
inhabitants appear so bizarre. I will explore why the agenda of visitors coming
to this side of reality seem so cryptic and sometimes absurd. Above all I will
demonstrate why the Otherness is about a secret life that I have unwittingly
lived as well as being another side of the physical world that we think we
know.
I have to begin by saying that
my paranormal experiences have been quite different from most. I must reiterate
that I cannot compartmentalise what has happened to me as a typical ghost case
or UFO experience as my experiences seem to cover so many areas. What started
with a strange memory followed by a UFO type encounter has triggered a shower
of peculiarities ranging from deja vu to some kind of parallel reality. Not
even the Oz Factor can explain all.
This Oz Factor has proved to be
far more than just a state of mind. For me it has become a gateway to an
intangible and esoteric world which folklore calls “fairyland.” Intangible in
that I can never reach out and define it as an essential source of evidence.
This of course leaves me without so much as a grain of proof and not a leg to
stand on.
Even as I write, I feel myself
wince at the absurdity of what I have to say. “These things just don't happen. How
can I ever expect anyone to believe this?” And very little of it has
actually taken place in the reality we're used to. Somewhere remote, it is all
very real and has a solid significance. The significance is the mystery I call
interaction, and again that is what this book is about. The “how” and the “why”
behind it all is not really for me to say but I can at least try to translate
the magic behind the Otherness and what you will see on these pages are my best
interpretations.
Sometimes I feel like the
Amazonian who has been given a fantastic glimpse of civilisation and actually
approached it. My task now is to go back to the tribe and try to relay the
strange tales of the new world. I am not an explorer of that world, rather I
have been drawn or plunged into it and for some reason been granted the special
privilege of memory. The inhabitants of that civilisation have
allowed me to remember.
My memory is not the only
rarity here. I can honestly say that none of my experiences have been unpleasant.
Never have I encountered any threat or presence of evil on the other side. I
have also never needed the valuable service of hypnotic regression, which is
strange because I suspect my memory has often been tampered with. Because this
has been such a deeply personal interaction and so cleverly disguised leaving
no trauma whatsoever, there has been very little call for any investigation.
There are very few people that I have actually approached and this I believe is
rare.
I cannot approach people with
these tales as it invariably leads to ridicule and denial. Denial probably
being slightly sinister because it suggests that I have stumbled across
something perennially dangerous that shouldn't be touched. I sometimes wonder
if the same people who baulk are the ones who secretly fear or know there is more to life than we
actually come across.
The esoteric beings that pull
the strings to my life and many others want to leave as little trace or
suspicion as possible. This allows a huge agenda free to carry on uninterrupted
and there are many books on the paranormal that also suggest this. What
concerns me is that it doesn't just limit itself to the stories of alien
abductions. A secret agenda seems to apply also to haunting and outer body
experiences just as if they are a part of the same tapestry.
In the past few years I have
been reading up on religious histories as well as paranormal phenomena to try
to shed some light on this strange and hidden study. It makes me wonder how
much information we actually have about this institution and how much our
ancestors really knew about it. Why have these things established themselves so
well within our folklore? We just seem
to live on with this accepted knowledge of our culture yet alarm bells only
ring when we’re confronted with something. Angels and aliens instantly strike
me as something already known about from bygone days.
In my moments of strange
interaction, I have met people who demonstrate things to me. Communication is
always through the silent oddity that we call telepathy and gestures are made
about things that certainly confuse. However, I am convinced that what was
shown to me has a tremendous significance. So much of it is firmly anchored in
our culture and smacks of familiar rituals that humans have carried out in our
past. For instance, there is something about the ritual behind freemasonry and
stage magic that has this uncanny resemblance to the bizarre ceremony I have
witnessed. It seems that the powerful use of gesture goes hand in hand with these
beings’ telepathy and at times I have seen things which resemble magic wands,
pointed hats, mysterious boxes and cloaked dwarfs. Despite the “Alice in
Wonderland” type scenario, my experiences also have an ultra hi-tech theme that
is straight out of tomorrow. I have seen the mythical world of wizardry used
amongst technology to which our imaginations haven’t yet stretched.
I am not from a cultural
background that would favour any of these scenarios. Instead, I just take what
I saw and relay it the best I possibly can. In fact, I believe there is a
common bond that links everything paranormal. But does anybody really know why we use magic wands in conjuring and
what the significance of the magician’s box is?
I suspect there are those that do.
I have often thought of this
knowledge as institutional like a secret torch handed down from the keepers of
ancient legend. It would explain our
legacy of Masonic secrecy.
If this is a part of a hidden
institution secretly passed down to “me” then the question is surely why? Where
exactly do I fit in? I am not a part of any cult and possess nothing unusual in
mind or body so the question screams, “why me?”
David Ike, the much-ridiculed
sports commentator turned prophet and author of many spiritual- themed books
was once posed exactly the same question on a television interview. Why had
this mediocre sports presenter with little influence on the spiritual been
chosen as a type of messianic prophet only to be the subject of endless jibes?
His answer was a simple question. “Why was Jesus, a humble, unknown carpenter
from Nazereth turned out to be mankind’s saviour and the founder of the
Christian religion?” In other words, why do bizarre and groundbreaking
phenomena take place with the most unassuming people?
I am not claiming to be a
messiah of any kind, but I will not be the first unknown to have had something
strange happen to them. If there really were such privileges, then why not
grant them to the Pope?
I don’t think it works that
way. I believe that a higher civilisation or race of beings have some kind of
selection criteria but it isn’t based on intelligence or spiritual development
as some will have you believe. I do not want to mislead anyone into the
condescension of New Age belief where only the highly developed achieve
enlightenment. I for one have never meditated and probably have more
materialist beliefs than most but what happened during my secret life is
another matter.
It isn’t that I have met with
interplanetary beings or can prove there is an afterlife but my experiences
have provided me with a strong suspicion that religion, New Age and science are
not necessarily set in opposing quarters. Somewhere along the line they link
hands quite naturally but the authority of each quarter will never let us see
where. The beauty of not being from any of these backgrounds helps me see the
whole phenomenon without bias. I can see why we thought of otherworldly beings
as demons or angels hundreds of years ago and I can also see why we think of
them coming from other planets today.
For me, I find science the best
tool for interpreting the paranormal. It enables me to accept the phenomena at
a grass roots level and seems to help explain the mechanisms behind religion
without necessarily disputing it. I would love to be the first able to prove
that the concept of an ethereal world is not as far away as people would
believe and that you need not be a yogi to finally discover everything.
I am not an atheist but believe
that maybe one day, God can be put under the microscope and that a high-tech
medium will eventually propel us through the gates of Heaven. It is, after all,
a growing awareness that helps us cross that line of taboo and allow the
unknown to become known.
Like many others exposed to the
paranormal, I have a strong feeling that those who monitor us, the angels,
alien overlords, whatever are guiding us towards transformational changes like
parents holding the baby as it learns to walk. This might mean that we are
about to become “them”, taking our place alongside the makers.
Something somewhere is
preparing us gradually without our conscious minds even being aware… but that
is changing.
For the first time in evolution
the cattle are becoming curious. They are venturing way outside of their field
and what they are finding keeps them coming back for more until their knowledge
becomes altered forever. The livestock are about to finally take their place
amongst the farmers and this bizarre and ongoing harvest will no longer be a
mystery.
1
__________
I was always being prepared for
something. Looking back, there was always this reserved suspicion that my
history of interaction was actually a programme of some kind. This isn’t
something I can elaborate on; it’s more a case of “knowing’.
Secret knowledge appears to be
the bottom line for my experiences and has proved to be the cast that formed my
interests. Reservoirs of untaught information are a common theme with alien
interaction and in my case, it has been more of a way of life.
We accept the most bizarre
things when growing up and only in our sober hindsight of adulthood do these
things appear strange. I realise how the mind changes over the years along with
our sense of reality but it doesn’t explain why we sometimes instinctively have
a fixed view towards something without even questioning it. If there’s never
been a known source for your influences, you can’t help wondering where they
came from.
I now know that the human mind
can be programmed. I’m not talking about verbal influence or hypnosis but
something far cleverer and more effective that causes you to hit a kind of
boundary when you try to access it. Somebody has been programming my mind this
way where I would simply go through my days believing that nothing is out of
the ordinary and everything is the norm. I am going to refer back to this
altered state called the Oz Factor because that I believe is where the
“programmers” themselves operate.
An abductee can be halted at
any time during the Oz Factor and sent into an altered state where everything
happens in slow motion. It won’t be until a much later stage that they realise
something strange has happened along with missing time.
I believe that my programming
has been even more advanced than this as I have grown up without suspicion. In
fact, I haven’t even been allowed the faculty of wondering because my firm
belief always insists that the paranormal happens only to others. Again this
was just an unquestioning mode of thought that didn’t seem to come from
anywhere. It wasn’t until the
programmers themselves decided one evening in early 1996 that I should finally
remember. Prior to this, any level of strangeness belonged to the subconscious
realm of dreams or the domain I called the Otherness.
Over the years I have learned a
number of things about these programmers. As clever and advanced as they may
be, their system is not without flaw. They obviously want a process as
uninterrupted and free from suspicion as possible, but that isn’t always the
way it works. Look how many people who suspect missing time finally turn to
hypnosis and reveal a huge chunk of the alien agenda. Look how many photographs
and widespread stories of the paranormal have broken onto the news and onto
bookshelves everywhere. Perhaps these people are only a handful of the
experiencers existing. Thousands of others like myself may have participated in
this way without being aware and will remain unaware indefinitely. I also
suspect that the terrible leakage in the system coming from the outrageous
minority making these claims have probably made their perpetrators tighten
their belts. It would explain why my experience with these visitors have been
even more stealthy and less like an alien involvement. Their ingenious method
of inducing amnesia hasn’t even made me care to try hypnosis and not once have
I ever (knowingly) been exposed to the archetype alien entity known as the
“grey”.
Pictures of these creatures
don’t even strike a chord with me. That isn’t to say that my version of events
are correct and everyone else’s are false, it just suggests that perhaps I am
one of the first to witness a new or changing face of the paranormal. The fact that my experiences have never been
unpleasant also suggests something very new indeed.
Maybe this is just a subjective
thing. I often wonder if the inhabitants of the paranormal somehow prescribe
different programmes for different subjects. What would appear as a malevolent
grey brutalising some poor subject onto a higher fear threshold would
deliberately appear quite differently to someone else. The more I read about
other cases makes me appreciate just how different this interaction can be and
just how fortunate I am. To be honest I am not as strong or brave a person as I
would like and perhaps my threshold for stress is simply too low for that
treatment. Perhaps the entities themselves are aware of this and have somehow
offered a more sophisticated course of action where I would be totally
oblivious to what is happening.
Even this extensive level of
stealth offered to me has proved to have its leakages. There are hints of
strangeness that have manifested themselves to me during childhood although not
necessarily in an alien or paranormal way. It was more in the manifestation of
my early ideas and interests that suggested something strange was going on. As
a child I seemed to have interests and impressions that were never fed from
anywhere.
Where did I acquire this early
fascination for conjuring and magic when I had hardly seen it practiced anywhere?
Why was I preoccupied with the notion of robed beings like monks who I believed
carried out this magic? Why was a late developer like myself questioning the
basic laws of physics at such an early age where I would spend hours with an
electric torch wondering why I couldn’t manipulate its light? Almost as if I’d
seen it done somewhere. The night time occurrences were the strangest. I would
often drift off to sleep with a series of numbers and advanced equations
whizzing through my mind followed by the most vivid dreams of flying. Not the
usual flying dreams that we all have but ones of being in complex machines.
Before I go into any depth
about these, I need to reiterate the point I made earlier about the notion of
being “selected.” This isn’t a privilege and I am not a celebrity or author who
aims to take you on any New Age journey of enlightenment. This is the first
book I have written and my convenient knack of explaining the unusual only
comes from experience.
The truth is I am nobody. If
the criteria for selection was based on sophistication, then I probably
wouldn’t have touched first base. In fact the life I thought I had led (the one
I consciously remembered) was no more than a mundane legacy of
under-achievement. I cannot remember any promising potential shining through as
a child which would suggest I was destined for anything great. This book is
largely about those two lives, the conscious one and the shrouded one revealed.
I have found the contrast between the two to be quite breathtaking.
As the book continues, you will
begin to see the reason for selection and what that criteria may be. I can
assure you that it isn’t something you have to slave at through personal
development. Like most experiencers of the unusual will tell you, “it just
happens.”
The interactive experiences I
have had were delivered to a lifestyle that was not particularly unique. I was
born in the late sixties into a working class family living just outside of
London. My father was a taxidermist and my mother a florist and although they
were never poor, I remained an only child, possibly because it was manageable
and partly for financial reasons. I think the social or financial category
would have been upper working class, for me, however, I can only describe it as
comfortable. I never went hungry or without anything and cannot claim the
nobility of being poor.
Being an only child did
contribute toward me developing into a loner, which is a trait I have to this
day. From an early age I seemed to build up a resistance against loneliness or
boredom by acquiring this strange world of my own. Like most children, I had
imaginary playmates but these would occupy an unhealthy amount of my time.
Today I am not so sure they were imaginary at all and I doubt children’s
creative abilities stretch that far.
Nevertheless, the activity kept
me occupied and as always the interaction was pleasant enough to keep me coming
back for more. Whatever it was I interacted with knew exactly what it was doing
and had a lifelong agenda planned for me.
This hidden activity would
prove to cause problems for me later on, particularly when I began school.
Years later, a teacher described me as having too much activity going around
in my head. I would often get into trouble for being miles away and “tuning
out” at the most inconvenient moments. Being in a world of my own meant I would
regularly get reprimanded by the teachers who at one point thought I was hard
of hearing. I remember when I was about 7 years of age, a specialist was called
into the school to test my hearing abilities. After a tedious test of repeating
words spoken to me both clear and muffled without saying “pardon” once, it
became obvious that there was nothing wrong. This led to the obvious pondering
and humming adults do when pretending to understand. They could only diagnose
me as being persistently “miles away” which was something that would follow me
through my schooling and adult life.
Having a label of being a
daydreamer would have been acceptable had there been some evidence of academic
success to compensate for it. The trouble is, there wasn’t, and within the
black and white reasoning of children (and sometimes teachers) this meant quite
plainly that you were thick. This stigma was worse as it led to a kind of
despondency where I would opt out of studying and go further into my world of
magic. My whole attitude to study eventually became one of “why bother,”
particularly when there was this head full of strange activity that made the
absorption of new knowledge a huge task. I can remember times where I would
find it agonising just to try to digest so much as a paragraph of a textbook
when it didn’t appeal to me. I could describe it as a bulimic mind: it simply
wouldn’t accept information, especially if that information didn’t match what
was within. If this was some fault of the aforementioned programming rather
than just a lazy or feeble mind, then someone somewhere possesses some
frightening uses of mind control.
Could I have had a separate
education coming from elsewhere?
Having said all of this, there
were times where my awkwardness would triumph and signs of this hidden world
would prove to be an asset creatively.
Whenever there was the opportunity to express my mind rather than
develop it, people seemed to take notice. Writing stories from my own initial
ideas was always a success at school and many times I would be asked to read my
stories to the class. Looking back there were some funny ideas that I would
incorporate into my writing which would baffle teachers and often myself. I
seemed to have these preconceived ideas about how things were rather than the
way they were factually. So many times I would be challenged on facts:
“But there aren’t any monks who
practice magic”
“Steel
isn’t organic like wood and cannot be grown, it
has to be welded.”
“How
can you fly over the Earth without the use of a spacecraft?”
I would grow up dismissing
these strange ideas as a part of my undisciplined imagination or as something
odd from my dreams. What I wasn’t aware of was that these ideas were developing
more into fixations. Like most things, I kept them to myself and had learned
the art of what not to say, particularly if it would alarm or embarrass.
Quite often they would manifest
in my schoolwork and I found that teachers would either keep very quite about
my odd theories or assume that I picked them up somewhere. This would happen
when I was old enough to do science at school and had to write why you thought
things were as they are. This first happened early in my secondary school during
a particular exercise in the science lesson where we would be asked to write
about a certain question, the answer to which remains unknown to this day.
Something about why a multitude of different colours would always appear beige
when spun around at a certain speed. I didn’t really know the answer but I
wrote something to the effect of “the light reaching you from the spinning
object only allows you to see a vague combination of the primary colours while
the others absorb into the speed of the wheel.” This may have seemed a
plausible, albeit advanced explanation for an 11 year old, but take into
account I didn’t really understand what I was saying.
The teacher didn’t pursue this
written theory although she casually remarked, “Who’s your older brother doing
physics in the fifth year?”
This alternative set of rules
embedded in my mind appeared to have a particular theme to them that did not
come from my culture. My fascination with stage magic and conjuring had come
from my parent’s practical trades, I assumed. From an early age I had wanted to
be a stage magician and would often practice and play out the scenes in my
bedroom. Again I would have preconceived ideas about how it should be done and
what to expect. During these fantasy scenes I would be accompanied by a team of
magical dwarfs who acted as my helpers and I would possess a metallic box that
lead to a secret dimension. This was where all the conjuring would take place,
the gateway to the ethereal world of spirits and goblins.
The vagueness I had about what
to expect during my sessions of magic would often lead to frustration. Why
didn’t that just vanish and appear elsewhere? I’m sure I’ve seen it done
somewhere. When I tried to process where it was that I’d seen it, my head
would burn as if I approached a forbidden boundary. I knew that somewhere these
tricks were performed using tools far more sophisticated than the plastic toys
I had. Somewhere existed a world so strange that a mental taboo would crop up
just by wondering about it.
Looking back, the fixations of
my young mind appeared to have a pattern that was etched partly in what we know
as folklore. There were cloaked beings that possessed the power of magic. This
would explain my early fascination with the mystique of monks because that is
what they dressed like. These beings carried out ceremonies that appeared
slightly like the woodland solaces of Wicca people and not unlike the Masonic
rituals of today. These “monks” would be accompanied by Troll-like people who
were dressed the same only they were like assistants. What these ceremonies
were for was something I could never fathom.
All of this remained as
information etched in my mind about things that I believed existed, not
necessarily something that actually involved me. Or at least I didn’t think it
did. For me it was just knowledge without a source and questioning its source
would cause it to evaporate just like a fading deja vu, the intricate work of
“programmers.”
They say that a little
information is dangerous, which is why I learned to keep quiet about these
beliefs early on. If you cannot explain how you know something then you really
haven’t a leg to stand on. Evidence is the factor that is seriously lacking in
these occurrences.
In the event where my mind was
allowed the capacity to question the scenarios, I would always come to the
conclusion of dreams. That was it, vague memories of weird dreams, what else
could they be?
Most of the time I am sure that
dreams are only the resting mind’s leisure time where it juggles information around
with the dreamer’s fears and imagination. There are the rare occasions however
where something else happens between the sleep and waking state, where there is
just too much lucidity and consistency for it to be a dream. The Oz Factor plays its part here and I
believe it to be the habitat of peculiar entities.
These dreams were nothing of
the kind. Just like the normal ones, they were easily forgotten and only
recalled in vague patches later. This of course reinforced their invalidity. It
makes me realise now how these shady entities have fooled so many over the
years by manipulating the dream environment. I now understand the entities
patterns and manoeuvres enough to be able to differentiate between the real and
the non during the night encounters.
The “dream people” of my
childhood were different. The ones that came at night were different from the
“monk magicians” and seemed to display ultra technology rather than magic. I
always knew when I was about to have one of the “night people” dreams because
the environment around me changed. I didn’t necessarily need to be asleep
either. A kind of oppressive atmosphere would fill the room just before a visit
and the sounds around me such as the downstairs television or the toilet
flushing became distant as if underwater. The interaction always followed on
after a mental cascade of numbers which meant nothing to me.
Once this had happened I was in
the night people’s realm, the ethereal and immaterial existence I call the
Otherness. Changes would also take place in me as I was physically different.
Once in this state I could do the things they did such as float or converse
telepathically without even questioning the phenomena. I would often be taken
from my bed and led on some abstract journey. Ludicrous and incredible.
My young mind often assumed
these beings were children because of their size, but when I think back to
their actual appearance I realise of course that they weren’t. They had all the
filled out characteristics of an adult although they couldn’t have been much
more than 4 feet high. Their appearance was humanlike although not exactly. In
fact they resembled dolls with their perfectly proportioned features and smooth
skin, so much so that they couldn’t have been human. Another ironic feature
they had was “painted on hair” just like some of the action dolls I played with
at the time. They had to have been dolls, even their mouths were in a fixed
position when they spoke to me without sound.
Each of them wore a jumpsuit, sometimes
in an orangey brown colour and other times a dull grey but what each of them
had always was uniformity, all in brown or all in grey. I found that they
usually arrived in fours, sometimes more depending on the operation at hand.
The interesting thing was that
I never recalled how they would enter my bedroom. They would somehow manifest.
I would just wake up to find a suffocating presence in the room together with a
dim light that seemed to come from nowhere with the beings themselves gently
coaxing me out of bed for a task for which I was always strangely prepared.
Very little communication took place but when it did, it was never demanding.
Non-verbal words of reassurance were occasionally spoken in ways which adults
reassure children.
I would then simply float
with them as each held me the way a lifeguard might when teaching someone to
swim. Sometimes the atmosphere in the room felt so thick it was almost like
being in water and although my physical form was still humanoid, its properties
were different. I suspect that we have an “in-between state” somewhere amidst
the physical and astral that is definitely astral in form but borrows all the
human anatomy. I will go into this “halfway state” in more detail at a later
chapter.
The form that I adopted with
the night people allowed me to pass through solid objects much like a radio
wave. I can remember always passing through a hole in the ceiling (which was
never there in the morning) and actually feeling the texture of the ceiling
around me. Wherever we went or whatever we passed through, the same dim bluish
light would follow like an encompassing halo. When we reached the outside,
things were not quite as expected. In theory we should have been above the
rooftop of my house overlooking the trees and facing the nearby motorway.
Instead we were inside a cave of some kind illuminated only by the dim halo
that followed us. There were steps that led down to a parked vehicle positioned
on a kind of rail track as if it were a funfair ride ready to board. I could
never remember getting inside that car but once inside, it didn’t feel as
though it actually moved. Instead, the scenery would change around us as images
would fade and emerge until the backdrop suddenly became consistent. It would
always be a struggle to remember what happened at this stage but I seem to
recall being shown things around me.
The vehicle itself I am almost
embarrassed to explain, because immediately it reminded me of something. I
remember it being a flat silvery car without any edges and no roof above it.
Its seating area only came up to the level of our chests (remember, I only had
the height of a 7 year old) and I don’t remember feeling any wind pass us as we
flew, assuming that’s what we did. The car travelled without sound and was so similar
to the comic book flying vehicle known as the “Fantasi-car” from the superhero
strip the “Fantastic Four.” As reluctant as I am to divulge it this way, it is
how I clearly remembered it and conveying it any different would be
fabrication. I think some things are so absurd in the abduction scenario that
people often do modify their stories in order to sound sane!
The absurdity was the main
factor that made me doubt all of these events as dreams over the years. Why
would these beings need a vehicle to fly anyway when they could fly themselves?
I have often heard stories of how victims of alien abduction sometimes suspect
that the beings themselves are using illusions or play scenes in order to mask
the reality of the abduction. I couldn’t grasp what was so secretive about this
flight scene that would make my visitors want to mask it as a scene from an
American comic book! Despite the
absurdity, I’m pretty sure I am remembering it the way it was. Perhaps the
Fantasi-car is just another illusive vehicle alongside the flying saucer, I
really couldn’t say.
That would be the extent of my
memory with the night people and their excursions. It didn’t necessarily bring
me any closer to them or their world. Questions remained unanswered-- weren’t
even asked. The programmers had kept me safe in a non-curious state of mind. By
morning, the strange events with the night people were no more than patches of
a shady but familiar dream. There were peculiar occasions however where I would
awake with physical evidence of the dream. For instance, I would find blades of
grass in my bed the morning after dreaming of being in a field with the night
people. Although I could never understand this, it didn’t make me any more
suspicious. I would go about my business
in the normal way still believing that my life was as mundane as any
schoolboy’s.
Every day I would travel to
school on that well-worn bus dreaming about the far reaches of space and time,
thinking how insignificant my life was compared with this subject of interest.
Connecting these interests with my own life and its strange moments had never
really occurred.
That did not mean that my mind
would ever cease its strange fixations. In fact they cropped up fast and
furious. My written stories at school would continue to have the most baffling
themes and theories, which the teachers were now starting to expect. They had
soon put it down to too much television and at the time I suspected they might
have been right. But I couldn’t relate my ideas to anything that I had seen on
TV or anywhere for that matter. It all seemed to point to a “secret education”
coming from somewhere that a boy of my age could never normally access. It
would explain much of the bizarre activity going on in my head around that time
that was causing me to flunk most subjects. The activity generated within
didn’t seem to allow for much relevant information to be fed. It was causing
notable failure.
At the back of my mind, there
seemed to be an unexplainable consolation about my academic failure. It was like
a distant a voice telling me not to worry, “You know what you’re really here
for.” This went back to the almost arrogant notion of "being
selected" and had I ever questioned this calling, I’m sure it would have
responded to the effect of “some day it will all make sense.” It was an inbred
notion that all of this unpleasant underachievement was just the rocky road to
something big.
The transition to secondary
school and adolescence didn’t bring me any closer to an answer. The bane of
under-achievement followed me still and any possible building blocks for an
academic career looked pretty unlikely. My unusual interests and
pre-occupations were however growing into something.
I was becoming increasingly
interested in the paranormal and often wondered why I hadn’t come across
anything unusual when I was convinced it existed. There was a magazine around
at the time called the Unexplained
which I read with fascination. Each month I waited in anticipation for the next
issue to read up on strange accounts of ghostly experiences and
extraterrestrials. Although I never knew where this intrigue came from, I
seriously felt I could relate to the stories being told, particularly ones of
meetings with strange beings. I tended to skip past the formalities of reports
such as sightings and physical evidence and home in on the more intriguing
aspects such as the personal experiences. These would entail stories of outer
body journeys and actual alien abductions. The stories of personal interaction
would never fail to keep me glued to the magazine, taking in every detail.
During that time there was the
famous case in Yorkshire of a man found dead on top of a coal heap as if
mysteriously placed there from above. He had been slain by some unknown burns
as if from radiation and to corroborate this story, there was also the case of
a local policeman claiming to have been abducted by a UFO around the same time.
This account was a fascinating one brought into clarity through hypnosis where
the man claimed to have been aboard an unknown craft lying on an operating
table surrounded by small robot-like beings examining him.
At times like this I would
seriously ponder over the meaning of it all and even wonder if a mass landing
was ever going to take place. I often wondered if we were ever getting nearer
to a final revelation of the unknown, God, even? What would be the outcome of
this and would it tell us what happens when we die? I always harboured this
strong suspicion that these phenomena were all related.
My young mind could only guess
what it might be about and my ideas were of course tainted with popular science
fiction. Without the help of these “programming beings” of whom I wasn’t even
aware at the time, this fancy proved to be a damaging tool to mask my
experiences and keep them from my daily life. I would never equate my
fascination with the unknown to personal experience as long as I thought of it
in terms of robots and laser beams. Years would pass before I outgrew my
insistence that the paranormal was all about Star Trek.
As a child, the nearest I would
ever come to seeing an unknown object in the sky was something that we as a
family all witnessed and still joke about today. It must have been about 1981.
One winter’s evening my parents and I were having dinner when we saw a green
fireball whiz through the sky heading towards Heathrow. My father jokingly
pointed up, saying, “Look, UFO!” knowing of course my fascination with the
subject. We were so used to seeing fireworks around that time that we quickly
dismissed the green flash as another sky-rocket; although, for a firework, it
was unusual. The object made no sound and had a brilliant green consistency to
it. Later that evening, a bulletin came over on the radio that dozens of
reports had come in of a mysterious green fireball in the sky over London. I
suspected it was a comet, but years later when I would read so much literature
on UFOs, I read something about a government project known as Project Twinkle.
This project was set up in the 1950s to study the mysterious green fireballs
seen across America around that time. As intriguing as it all seemed, I have to
conclude coincidence on that one. I strongly doubt that it had anything to do
with my experiences. In hindsight I find it amusing how inappropriate this
sighting must have been for those who I suspect were involved with me.
Intrigue would always remain
together with the strange fixations. There was something about the image of
Earth as seen from space that would always strike a note with me. Whenever I
saw NASA’s photographic images of our planet on television, I would immediately
observe and feel a strange familiarity with something. Had I seen this once
already other than TV?
This suspicion went back to an
early age. My parents remember that when we would watch footage of the space
explorations on TV how I, at age three or four, would point to the black and
white images and say that I had seen that big globe before. Quite innocently,
they would insist that it was our world seen from space and only astronauts see
that. I would remark that I had seen it and it was bigger!
There is something about the
striking image of Earth that moves me even today. I seemed to recall images of
a huge section of a blue glassy marble-like structure beneath me. All around
was dark but the fantastic surface that I looked upon was illuminated in the
most majestic way. My programmers must have had a job erasing this scene from
my mind because its brilliance grabbed me and always will. I was so in awe of
this image that it could have been a living entity talking to me, like a
collective message from its billions of inhabitants. Even though I never
connected this scene with my interest in the paranormal, I don’t think I ever
dismissed it as a dream either. This had to have happened; it was so lucid and
intricate.
Like most scenes, I can only
remember snapshots and never the sequence of events that brought me there. My
memories seemed to capture images and emotions and I feel that the gargantuan
globe could have been an entity living and breathing with me. The scene was
powerful and more than just a visual thing.
This snapshot recall of events
has taught me a lot about the realm of existence I call the Otherness. It has
been noted that those who experience the Oz Factor often come across a feeling
of time slowing down or even put on a still pause on time itself. This slow
motion or seizure of events can appear at anytime. Remember how it is when a
sudden accident takes place like dropping a tray full of food in a busy
canteen? You almost watch it happen in slow motion or even experience deja vu
as you helplessly see it happen. I suspect that the operating realm of the
Programmers is a kind of timeless zone where the past, present and future are
all an abstract scene of things happening at once. It is hard to imagine this
timeless zone with our law of physics but it would account for the high
(sometimes illogical) level of strangeness in which these visitors operate.
The still pause of life is
another of the many ludicrous ideas I had from an early age that seemed to come
from nowhere but within. As a child, I would ponder over the boundaries of the
universe as many children do, wondering where it all could possibly end. Surely
if there was a boundary, there must be something outside that boundary and if was
limited, what was it that limited it? From a young age I concluded that the
universe might be confined by a boundary in time where time as we experience it
simply stops ticking. A place where there cannot be a before and after or a
“here” or “there.” When people talk of
doing things in “no time”, my theory of a simultaneous universe or
timeless zone soon comes to mind.
This could just have been the
way my young mind rationalised the common and frustrating puzzle of space and
time. As I mentioned earlier, perhaps our minds were not designed to solve
these problems. It was a theory that really meant something to me, a subject I
could have talked about for hours. I even remember comedy sketches from
television shows such as Benny Hill where he would use a video’s remote control
to still pause time and events around him. I often mused at how effective this
would be in travelling trillions of miles in “no time’. Going through a zone
devoid of time or distance. This all sounds similar to the idea that modern scientists
have of “tachyons” and “bending space/time.” It also smacks of the Oz Factor
and would allow a perfect environment for the aliens themselves to operate
without so much as a hint of disturbance. It also reminds me of my absolute
confusion about missing time and its sequence of events.
God only knows how many of
these bizarre events have taken place in my life during this altered state
where I explore the Otherness. I had the most profound snippets of memory that
conveyed nothing to me but confusion. All I really knew deep down was the
notion of “being prepared.” Sometimes I felt like the wholesome calf being
nurtured as a delicacy for the future or whatever the harvest was. The truth
was deliberately spared from me, and in hindsight, the Programmers must have
shown an element of kindness in doing that. Even if the grand master plan was
benevolent, I’m not sure how my young and obsessive mind would have coped with
the information. Perhaps I would have been a nervous wreck today.
Being prepared meant a
meticulous process and unfortunately this did very little for my material needs
and future. Sometimes when I look back, I must have drifted through those years
as a zombie because I cannot seem to account for the way time flew. The process
didn’t leave room for any other essential developments and this left me quite
maladjusted.
The important years of
preparation for a decent future were being neglected and for some reason I
didn’t seem to care. Some other project was subconsciously taking place all the
time and my studies were just a type of supplement to top up this secret
project. I realised that a crucial time was looming with final exams on the
horizon and necessary qualifications for the future but even acknowledging this
importance didn’t alter things. I felt indifferent to it all. My secret
activity of hooded monks and night people with their ceremonies of magic and
bizarre science seemed to take precedence of everything. In fact it was the
real world that seemed the odd one.
I didn’t think it necessary to
apply for my final examinations because sitting them would have been futile.
Apart from the core subjects, the rest of the exams were optional and required
payment. I declined them all because I was nowhere near prepared. This ill
preparation had followed me right into the outside world and shaped me as the
proverbial square peg in an unsympathetic system of round holes.
My early ambitions of going
into performing and becoming a stage magician had seemed to have dried up. The
intrigue of conjuring had never really faded. I had become disillusioned with
the conventional ways of going about it. It wasn’t so much the trickery behind
magic that appealed to me, it was the magic itself. When I was old and wise
enough to know that the appearance of magic was just trickery, something inside
me just didn’t seem to buy it. Instead of conventional stage magic, my
attention shifted towards the performed feats that couldn’t be explained such
as telepathy and spoon bending.
I hadn’t abandoned my interest in
performing altogether as I had continued with drama at school which I seemed to
have a knack for. With drama there were no hard and fast rules about how it
should be done and I seemed to shine in the art of portraying other people. I
wondered sometimes if this was due to my lacking personality or the belief that
the lives of others were far more exciting. It did feel like a refreshing
escape at the time and above all, it was fun.
When it was finally time to
depart those school gates, I realised I wasn’t going straight into the theatre.
However, I enjoyed being in that make believe environment so much that I had to
seek some kind of role there even if it was stagehand. I collected the
occasional stage magazines and looked for opportunities at any level. I did
eventually arrive in the theatrical world albeit at the very menial levels.
This at least provided me with a platform in which to drift from position to
position without ever really going anywhere. I shifted scenes, I helped out
with basic maintenance of the stage but as far as the make believe world was
concerned, I was an onlooker.
At the end of the day, the
secret obsessions had dictated the kind of maladjusted life that I had secretly
feared. School may have been behind me forever, but that unforgettable label of
“hopeless dreamer” from my school reports had prevailed.
I would remain for a very long
time without a direction. Halfway through my twenties I remained without a clue
of who I really was or what I was cut out for. The crazy mind full of bizarre
activity had never truly been addressed as I had only accepted the flippant
diagnosis others had given me.
The only reassurance I
harboured was the deep suspicion of being selected, being prepared for some
great task. No logic I had could explain it. There was nothing to support the
belief. My future seemed vacant and my purpose was like putty in the hands of
others who were quite out of reach for human evidence. There were those who
truly had me where they wanted me and it wouldn’t be until a later stage, after
a series of bizarre interactive experiences, that an explanation would finally
loom.