A couple of months ago, I quit putting material up on this website. The reason was that I was so overwhelmed with work that something had to go. Art and I were finishing our book, I was learning how to host a radio program, a lot of personal things were happening, and I was having the most intense series of contact experiences that have come my way in years.
It is these experiences that I want to talk about now. One would have thought that, after all these years, they would have changed their structure somewhat, becoming more focused and defined. If you’d asked me in 1989 what my contact experiences would be like in 1999, I would probably have predicted that they would be more direct and “normal” than they were then.
What has actually happened is very different. I went through a period from 1989 through 1994 where my encounters were indeed becoming more clear and defined. It got to a point that I was interacting with one particular individual on an almost daily basis. We hardly ever saw him, but his presence in our cabin was so obvious that even my wife Anne’s resolute skepticism was broken.
He and I used to meet in a room in a quiet part of the house. He would never get near me, except from behind. Sometimes he would lay his hands on my shoulders. But if I even thought about turning around, he would be gone. Other times, he would appear across the room, and disappear if I moved toward him. His primary interest was in working on meditation with me. He taught me to open my mind in such a way that ideas could come into it from the outside.
He was highly moral and extremely interested in my moral life. He was extremely concerned that I be faithful in my marriage, and the least suggestion that I might not be-for which he was always digging-would elicit the most appalling rage. I’ve been loyal to Anne and very much in love with her ever since we met, so this never went anywhere. But I cannot really imagine what his wrath would have been like if I had in any way besmirched my marriage vow. In fact, the only two times I have ever really felt threatened by the visitors, it was over this issue.
After a relentless assault on my finances that lasted three years, which I am going to write about in detail soon, I was forced to leave my cabin forever. I also left my teacher behind, which was a hard thing to do, because I had come to love him and to value his interest in me very highly. I remember our last night together, I begged him to help me and somehow get me the money so I could stay, but he would not help.
So I left, and since then I have not had a teacher. I have been on my own. Worse, after I moved to Texas, my contacts immediately diminished. I was heartbroken, but I tried to put as brave a face on it as possible. Still, consider what I had lost. I’d had a teacher literally from another world or a higher level of reality. What an incredible, wonderful privilege. And what hideous agony to have to give it up.
Even though I haven’t had a teacher, my work has progressed explosively here in San Antonio. I have been able to advance implant research, for example, in ways that never would have been possible in upstate New York.
And my contact experiences have changed, also, which gets me to recent events. In April, I had a rather crazy and astonishing thing happen. I woke up, and there was a small man standing beside my bed, who appeared to be southeast Asian. He was wearing shorts and a white t-shirt, and he was absolutely terrified. I sat up in bed. Understand, he was no hallucination. There wasn’t any question about this at all. He was a real, physically solid human being. The poor guy was so terrified that I took his hand in mine. I tried to reassure him, but all I could do was look into those frozen eyes. That was, I believe, the most awful terror I have ever seen. I had not seen them and I did not see them now, but when I took his hand, a young-sounding voice said from the dark of the hall: “he always does that.”
The next thing I knew, everything was black. I was lying back in the bed, and I had the impression that this man was being taught to do something to me. There was no physical sensation. I did not feel alarmed, and while the event was happening, I found myself thinking, ‘he’s a student.’
What he may have been learning, though, I have no idea.
About a month later, three dark figures entered the bedroom and began trying to force me out of the bed. I struggled and fought, awakening Anne, who proceeded to get up and go to the bathroom. The next morning, she vaguely remembered the battle, but could add nothing more. I eventually blacked out in this case, too. The visitors had withdrawn when she awoke, only to return again later, despite the fact that I had told her what had happened: she had actually waked up in the middle of an abduction and interrupted it. After hearing me say, ‘the visitors are still in the house,’ she promptly fell asleep again!
This commenced what appears to have been a period of communications, but I cannot say in a completely clear way what it has all meant. It proceeds along the lines of a grammar that is unfamiliar to me.
However, I have come away from it all with a growing conviction that things are changing between us and the visitors. My impression is that there is going to be an environmental break of some kind soon that is going to stun the world, followed by an increase both in contacts between us and the visitors and in the richness of communication.
I have always sensed that two things are necessary for us to increase our communications with them, and ultimately to achieve a cosmic presence for mankind. The first of these is to close the gap between us. To do that, we must develop our own propulsion system that is capable of transporting large numbers of us across the vast distances of space cheaply and easily; we must also come to understand and use the same means of communication that the visitors use, so that we can make ourselves heard on their level.
The second thing that has to happen is that we have to see the need. The only thing I can think of that might work is an environmental break that sends us a message that we cannot deny, that is, I believe, also the message of the visitors: unless we make it off the planet and into the higher world, our future is to decline and die as we use the earth up.
We’re on a spaceship that is running out of supplies. Time to broaden our horizons. So, even though I can hardly manage to describe the nature of the communications I am now having with the visitors, the message could not be more clear.
NOTE: This Journal entry, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.