I recently had a late-night experience that had an unusual enough texture to be worth reporting as possibly not a dream, at least not in the ordinary meaning of that word.

I cannot say that it felt entirely physical, but it was unusual enough, and intense enough, for me to wake up the next morning thinking it might have been a contact experience.

It was the third such experience in recent months and, if it was real, then it could be important.
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Christmas is coming, and with it the 17th anniversary of my close encounter experience of December 26, 1985. To this day, it haunts my sleep. My wife tells me that, if she should get up during the night, I will call out to her immediately, and grab her hand when she returns to the bed. I still remember those few minutes as if it had all happened last night. But, nowadays, I am beginning to be able to sleep more normally. More often than not, I sleep right through the hour between three and four, when the incident took place. For the first fifteen years after it happened, this was not true.
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