A Personal Interaction




Tim Watts



Sirius Publications






Copyright 2003 by Author. All Rights Reserved.


No part of this publication may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.


Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be addressed to Sirius Publications through our web site at www.sirius-books.com.

Some names may have been changed to protect their privacy.




Printed in the United States of America


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



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




My most heartfelt gratitude will surprisingly be towards those who have no knowledge of this book or of my experiences. Close family and friends have proven to be the most solid without so much of an inkling of the double life I have led. As close as these people are, they will never experience either the brilliance or confusion that otherworldly interaction plunges you into and in so many ways I feel sad that I cannot share this insight.   

I would also like to offer my condolences to those who have suffered at the hands of extraterrestrials or paranormal entities because my encounters have never been this way. I don’t pretend to have the answers but consider the subject of interaction to be a science in itself offering a vastness of experience. There will certainly be a time brought about through a breakthrough when the subject of “high strangeness” will no longer be that way and the mystery behind personal experience will have been answered. 

At the age of 33 there are endless questions in my life still unanswered but the relatively short history of strangeness I have led is deeply explored in these pages. I hope that the briefness of my story will perhaps herald a greater and more complete saga ahead like a seed waiting to hatch.

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.





The Secret Mould


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.

Buy this Book!

Back to Sirius Publications