As part of our new Communion Letters series, “Deb” writes: At approximately age four I climbed into bed with my parents because I remember feeling sick that night, and it seems as if I had had a nightmare.

We lived in Phoenix, Arizona, and the house was one-story. I remember looking out of my parents bedroom window and seeing the moon in our front yard, which, for some reason, didn’t seem odd to my 4-year-old mind. It was parallel to the bedroom window, big and bright. I slept for awhile, then woke up to see that a transparent window-like device had telescoped through the bedroom window. The only thing I can compare it with is a glass display case in a bakery.

Inside the “case” were several little gray creatures that looked to me like little monkeys. They wore vest-like aprons with what appeared to be tools or electronic devices in each of the many pockets. (This 1958, long before computers and electronic games arrived). I could hear them talking to me but did not see their mouths move. They made it very clear that they were there to contact and study me. They also said they couldn’t touch me. They appeared to be taking measurements, pictures, and recording me somehow. I tried to wake up my parents, but they seemed to be paralyzed.

The “monkeys” told me I had been selected as a messenger and seemed to hold me in great regard. Something within my child’s mind understood this and even expected it. They told me they would be visiting me many times, and a little silver metallic rod projected itself out of the device and scooped some flesh from my upper wrist: I still have this mark. It changes shape, and is sometimes round, sometimes parallel lines, and sometimes triangular. It didn’t hurt at the time, and never has.

After they finished their duties, the device telescoped back through the bedroom window and I fell asleep. The next day, I was playing in our front yard when the monkeys came back on what I thought was a fire engine, although it hovered above the ground. They even had little fire helmets on to complete the illusion. They threw candy to me and told me not to tell anybody about the previous night. I still remember the taste of the candy: like a cross between grape and cherry, my favorites. But the smell was somehow distastefully organic, like the smell of a compost heap. I told my older sister, Kathy, but she called me a liar.

After that, my childhood was fairly unremarkable, except I was aware I saw things other kids didn’t, like auras, energy and spirits. I soon found it was better not to talk about it. There was a humorous Easter visitation, when one of the monkeys appeared in an ill-contrived Easter Bunny costume. I remember the hooded part kept slipping off its little gray face, and this seemed to cause him great consternation.

I would also get clairvoyant messages, and long dissertations on topics of the day, such as Communism and environmental issues. I still get those messages, and the group who deliver them call themselves The Plurality. They seem to be shrouded in mystery, but they tell me this is due to my perception of them, because I love to study esoteric subjects. They laughingly say they communicate sometimes in metaphor because otherwise I wouldn’t grasp the many layers and nuances of meaning. They are Christ-like parables.

I had a miscarriage when my husband and I were first married, and during the D&C while I was under general anesthesia, they came to me again. They were taking the opportunity to manipulate my DNA and wanted to give me the privilege of viewing it. I woke up from the D&C in a state of horror, not from that procedure, but the DNA manipulation. I was depressed for weeks after that. Eventually I forgot all about it, until my second son was born. I had a C-section, and, while under general anesthesia again, I had to endure another DNA manipulation. The doctor attributed the depression to postpartum depression.

The Plurality continue to contact me, I write everything down. They call the state of mankind progressive regression and there are many layers to that definition. My psychic abilities have increased. Today I had a 3 hour time lapse. I was at home, and when I suddenly realized how much time had passed, the front door open and closed on its own, despite being locked. But that’s normal around me and this house.

I once prayed for protection for my husband when I was travelling out of town, and he called me up to ask me where the big brown ghosts dogs had come from. You can imagine the relief and sense of identification I felt when I first read Communion years ago. I didn’t contact you then because my husband at the time considered anything extraterrestrial or metaphysical to be Satanic. The marriage didn’t last.

I have thought of compiling the messages from the Plurality into a book. They are very profound messages that reveal a loving sense of humor.

NOTE: This Insight, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.

As part of our new Communion Letters series, Deb writes: At approximately age four?we lived in Phoenix, Arizona (NOTE: Home of the Phoenix Lights, which Whitley will examine on this week’s Dreamland) [and saw] several little gray creatures that looked to me like little monkeys [who] told me they would be visiting me many times?I still get messages, and the group who deliver them call themselves The Plurality.

NOTE: This news story, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.