Communion

TWO

O plunge your hands in water,

Plunge them in up to the wrist;

Stare, stare in the basin

And wonder what you've missed.

The glacier knocks in the cupboard,

The desert sighs in the bed,

And the crack in the tea cup opens

A lane to the land of the dead.

- W. H. AUDEN ,

"As I Walked Out One Evening"

DOWN THE CAVE OF MIND

Hypnosis

The Uncertain Mirror

My next step was clear. I was going to become involved with a therapist. But I had certain criteria. It could not be somebody who believed anything in particular about visitors or the disk phenomenon. The ideal therapist would have an open mind: I could have a mental problem. It might or might not have components unknown to science. Or it could be just what it seemed.

Because of the evident presence of fear-induced memory lapses and even possible amnesia, this therapist would have to be a skilled hypnotist as well. And again, not just any psychiatrist using hypnosis in his practice would do. I wanted somebody with a reputation in the scientific community as a real expert. I wanted both scientific rigor and therapeutic skill-and the two are not always present in the same person.

I chose not to approach any hypnotist to whom Hopkins had made previous referrals, despite the excellence of their credentials. One of these, Dr. Aphrodite Clamar, had worked extensively with Hopkins and was a very fine and highly professional psychologist, but I was firm in my desire to do this with somebody who had had no previous involvement.

Hopkins remembered that Dr. Donald Klein of the New York State Psychiatric Institute had expressed interest in the phenomenon and appeared to be open-minded about it. I looked up Dr. Klein's credentials and found them to be superb. If he would take me on, he was the ideal man.

A few weeks later I was in his office undergoing a searching three-hour pre-interview. I had provided him with a document outlining all my memories. We worked for some time trying to find ways into my mind, but I could recall little more than I already had. At his suggestion, I spent a week trying to do so. When I was not successful — in fact, all I got out of it was dizziness and strange nightmares — we decided on a trial hypnosis session.

I was dubious about hypnosis. I'd read in Science News of a study that suggested that anybody under hypnosis can be induced to remember a "UFO abduction and experience," complete with little men and all the trimmings. The hypnotist has only to ask the right questions. and the stories apparently just come pouring out.

It is a flat-out myth that people can't lie under hypnosis. They can and they will — if they think that's what the hypnotist wants them to do, or if they themselves want to do it.

When I got a more careful look at the study I had read about in Science News, I found that the questions asked were intentionally leading ones, specifically designed to evoke abduction memories. This study had as its purpose to prove that anybody can be induced to relate an abduction experience under hypnosis if he or she is asked questions designed to suggest that the hypnotist wanted him or her to relate such an experience.

Well, there was no chance at all that Dr. Klein was going to do that. This can easily be confirmed by the reader, as all the transcripts of my hypnosis sessions are verbatim. And I was very much hoping that the process would dispel the whole notion of the visitors and prove that — despite appearances — the experience had been a complicated series of misperceptions.

Still, the study illustrated a very good point and revealed a fundamental difficulty even with serious and competent efforts to use hypnosis in dealing with this sort of material.

We just don't know enough about hypnosis to call it a completely trustworthy scientific toot in a situation like this. While Don Klein certainly didn't ask provocative questions, there is always the possibility that I was unconsciously eager to comply with an outcome that I might secretly have longed for. I might wont powerful visitors to appear, to save a world that I'm pretty sure is in serious trouble. I'd spent the past three years working on books about nuclear war and environmental collapse. I knew full well that we are going to have a really rough time in the next fifty years. Maybe the idea of visitors coming along and saving our necks was more appealing to me than I might consciously have wished to admit. Maybe I hid my desperation from myself in order to live and raise a child with anything like a happy heart.

What I can say in favor of these transcripts is that they represent the response of an honest man to the efforts of a recognized expert in the field of medical hypnosis.

One of the greatest challenges to science in our age is from morn superstitions such as UFO cults and people who are beginning to take instruction from space brothers. Charlatans ranging from magicians to "psychic healers" have tried to gather money and power for themselves at the expense of science. And this is tragic. When one looks at the vast dollars that go each year to the astrology industry and thinks what that money would have done for us in the hands of astronomers and astrophysicists, it is possible to feel very frustrated. Had the astronomers been awash in these funds, perhaps they would have already solved the problem that I am grappling with now. I respect astrology in its context as an ancient human tradition. Still, I wish the astronomers could share royalties from the astrology books.

I did not believe in UFOs at all before this happened. And I would have laughed in the face of anybody who claimed contact. Period. I am not a candidate for conversion to any new religion that involves belief in benevolent space brothers, or in unidentified flying objects as the craft of intergalactic saints — or sinners.

And yet my experience happened to me, and much of it is recorded not in an unconscious context but in ordinary memory. If we are dealing with a new system of beliefs on its way to becoming fixed into religious dogma, the way the religion is in my case emerging, right into the middle of a mind with no obvious allegiance to it at all, suggests that real belief could be a totally misunderstood biological process capable of occasionally issuing forth from some extraordinary and unsuspected structure of the brain far more concrete than Jung's collective unconscious. Thus, even if visitor experiences are an essentially mental phenomenon, to laugh at them or dismiss them as some known form of abnormal behavior when they obviously are not is in effect to be silent before the presence of the new. Science should bring its best efforts to this, which means good studies that proceed from open and skillfully drawn hypotheses.

If mine is a real experience of visitors, it is among the deepest and most extensive as yet recorded, and I hope it will be of value if they emerge. If it is an experience of something else, then I warn you: This "something else" is a power within us, maybe some central power of the soul, and we had best try to understand it before it overcomes objective efforts to control it.

What follows here are two transcripts of hypnotic regressions, covering my buried memories of October 4 and December 26, 1985. That these are buried memories and not imaginations worked out in the doctor's office seems hard to dispute. The mechanism that buried them is no different from that which places any particularly terrifying experience behind a wall of amnesia. Beginning with Freud, the process of screen memory has been extensively documented.

The hypnosis used on me was not qualitatively different from that used on police witnesses. And the same caveats that apply to police cases apply to this case — those and no others. It should be remembered, though, that — even given my earnest effort — I am describing what I perceived, which may or may not have been what was actually there. We really do not have enough experience with our reaction to extreme strangeness to know how we alter such memories.

Donald Klein met me in his subdued gray office on East Seventy-ninth Street in Manhattan. He is a tall man with curly hair and a quiet demeanor. Two things were immediately apparent to me about him as a hypnotist. First, I sensed command; he was confident of his skills. Second, he was a thorough, careful man with a very acute mind.

I had never been hypnotized before, and I was apprehensive about it. As it turned out, my apprehension was for the wrong reasons. I was afraid of relinquishing control over myself, which seemed deeply disturbing. Control, as may be imagined, was a central issue in a life such as the one I had been leading.

I found, though, that I trusted Don Klein when he told me that even under hypnosis people cannot be readily compelled to say things they do not want to say. I would not be out of control, not really.

The process of becoming hypnotized was pleasant. I sat in a comfortable chair. Dr. Klein stood before me and asked me to look up at his finger, which was placed so that I had almost to roll my eyes into my head to see it. He moved it from side to side and suggested that I relax. No more than half a minute lacer, it seemed, I was unable to hold my eyes open. Then he began saying that my eyelids were getting heavy, and they did indeed get heavy. The next thing I knew, my eyes were closed.

At that point I felt relaxed and calm, but not asleep. I was aware of my surroundings. I could feel my face growing slack, and soon Dr. Klein began to say that my right hand was getting warm. It got warm, and then he progressed to my arm, and then my whole body. I was now sitting, totally comfortable, encased in warmth. I still felt as if I had a will of my own, a sensation that was never to leave me. In fact, the hypnotized subject does have a will of his own, very much so. But he is also open to suggestion.

After some preliminary questions, preparing me by asking me to recall my birthday and then Labor Day weekend, Dr. Klein proceeded to the afternoon of October 4. I wish to add that Budd Hopkins was present at both of these sessions, recording them. He was allowed to ask questions, but only at the end of each session, and it was understood that his questions would be few. They are identified with his name in the transcripts. All other questions were put by Dr. Klein.

Events of October 4, 1985

SESSION DATE: March 1, 1986

SUBJECT: Whitley Strieber

PSYCHIATRIST: Donald Klein, MD

[This is an actual transcript of my first hypnosis. Nothing has been left out. This is what happened when my memories were examined under hypnotic regression.

Dr. Klein began the session with Labor Day. As I grew more comfortable with the process of remembering, he drew me closer to the night in question.]

"Now, we're going forward a little further, to the beginning of the month of October. Right around October first, 1985. Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"Yeah, I'm working on the Russian book."

"What book?"

"The Russian book."

"What's that?"

"It's a novel about Russia. I've got a good idea I'm working on the Russian book."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home in the city."

"You have any plans for the weekend?"

"Yeah, we're gonna take Jacques and Annie up to the country and I don't know whether or not Jacques is going to fit in the jeep."

"Who are Jacques and Annie?"

"Jacques is a friend. Annie is his girlfriend."

"Now you're driving up to the country."

"Yeah.

"In a Jeep?"

"Yeah, it's a jeep Wagoneer. We're not having any problems. Annie's very small, so Jacques can fit. He's to the backseat and my son's happy because he likes Jacques a lot. I put on a tape but nobody liked it. So we talked. 'I'm gonna take you all out to dinner tonight. It's too late to stop for groceries. We're gonna go to the — you want to go to the Top of the Falls?' We had a lot of trouble deciding about that. I remember that, but then we went to the Top of the Falls."

"Go forward to that time now."

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm enjoying myself thoroughly."

"How far is the restaurant from your home?"

"Oh, not long, about fifteen minutes. And we had dinner. We had dinner. Anne, our son, all have a — I have a great time. Jacques has a good time."

"So you're back in your house."

"Yeah."

"And you're going up to bed for the night?"

"Yeah. I'm wearing my house shoes. We were all gonna sit in the hot tub, but I'm too tired." (I visualized myself in bed, talking to my wife before going to sleep.) "God, I wish I hadn't spent all that money on that restaurant."

"What happens after you go to bed?"

"Well . . . [Long pause.] Oh . . . I woke up in the middle of the night .... I don't understand that. Uh, there's something went past the window?" (I referred to an octagonal window beneath the peak of the living room's cathedral ceiling, approximately thirty feet from the ground. It can be seen from our bed and it looks out into a woods.) "What the hell?

Something went past the window? Something went past the window! There's nothin' pa — Oh, God 'Anne, the house is —' Something—"

"Something went past the window?"

"A big thing. [Beginning to cry.] No, it was a fight! [Calmer.] It didn't go past the window. It couldn't have gone past the window. I'm going back to sleep. I think the stove's OK. It was a light in the front yard. I keep thinkin' . . . . Who the hell is that?" (I was looking into the far corner of the bedroom, where I saw a dark shape about three feet tall standing in the shadows.) "Is that somebody? [Pause.] Is that somebody there? That can't be. Y'know I'm lookin' at this thing. I don't think, I don't think I like that. [Long pause. Eyes open.]"

"Relax. Close your eyes. Relax. You're going to stay relaxed, you're not going to open your eves Stay relaxed. Now tell us what you saw."

"I saw something that looked like it had a hood on it, standing over by the wall near the corner in our bedroom [breaks into panic] and I don't want it to be there! I don't want it to be there! Please! God, it-- What's it doing to me? Stop! Oh, oh, stop! What's it doing to me? [Screams, prolonged, twenty seconds.]" (I cannot recall experiencing at any time in my life such panic as was evoked at this point in hypnosis My memory was of seeing the shape sweeping across the room and realizing with a feeling that galvanized my whole being that it was something totally unknown to me, glaring at me from right beside my- bed in the dead of the night. I then emerged s ontaneously from hypnosis. No written words, noting, can convey my feelings at that moment. All I can say is that I relived fear so raw, profound, and large that I would not have thought it possible that such an emotion could exist.)

"Oh, I feel like I'm gonna throw up in a minute I'm sorry. Oh, God. You know I didn't know there was anything in my house till just this second that night on the fourth of October. [Weeps.] Ah, Jesus. Oh. God. Oh, boy. Scared the devil out of me. Sorry about that. I didn't expect this to be that bad, because if- I was prepared for being scared on the twenty-sixth. I did not know that anything had come into my house .... Oh, well.... It was there."

"Can you tell us?"

"You know it's dark. It's like a little man with a hood on or something. It looks almost like this —- y'know, there's no head . . . he's covered in something. And comes over to the bed and he starts like sucking something in-not into my head, y'understand, but like it was sticking into my mind. It would make a noise like a voice. It was terrible! [Demonstrates noise: a smacking, squeaking sound.] Like that. Going into me. It was just ('rod-awful horrible. He was standin' there Join' that."

"What was he doing?"

"You know, I can't. I'd have to be hypnotized again if I was ever gonna find out what that thing was saying. It was something that was being said inside me. Like it had a little thing it could touch to my head and it would make a voice. That's what I think it was."

"While he was talking to you, you weren't shouting then?"

"I was shouting. No, I was." (I was confused by this question, because, as will be seen in a moment, the figure was not in fact talking to me.) "I have absolutely no idea why the other people had — didn't remember because I'm damned sure I was shouting."

"Do you remember what your wife was doing?"

"I don't see her, because I'm turned toward the thing. Am I still hypnotized?"

"No."

"I swear to God. I just can't believe that this happened. But it did happen. I'll tell you the light comes down past the window, then I see a glow in the front yard. I thought I had gotten up, but I don't think now that I did. I thought I had seen the glow against the roof of the living room, but I don't think I did. I think I knew all along it was coming in the window, the glow, and I just didn't somehow want to say that. Because it was very obvious even then that it wasn't a fire. And he was-I just don't know what he was doing And I'll be frank with you all. I can't uh, I just can't figure it out. It was very scary. But he wasn't . . He was wearing a cover, like, he had a cover on. I'm shaky."

"Perfectly understandable."

"You know, I can't understand it. Yes, I guess of course I understand why an experience like that could be so scary. But, you want to keep on?"

"If you'd like to."

"I do. Definitely."

"OK."

"I mean, I think I may have gotten right at the beginning through the worst part of it, frankly. Because whatever it was, when it first came to me that night it was ultimately terrifying."

Budd Hopkins responded. "It's often like this. Beginning moments are the worst. And after that, it gets easier."

"Was I a good hypnotic subject?"

"You were excellent."

"Good. It didn't seem to take very long. It felt very nice."

"It always feels nice."

"I was amazed at you because I thought you were explaining to me how it was going to be done, and the next thing I knew I was thinking I can't keep my eyes open."

"It's very simple, because once you bet the hang of it you can do it just like that. Like this. Now look up at my finger." (In a few more moments, I was hypnotized.) "If you see something that is very frightening you will remain asleep. You will remain asleep, but you will tell us how you feel. The night of October fourth. You have woken up. You have woken up now. It's light There is something in the room with you "

"It's dark."

"'tell me what you see?"

"When he sees I see him he comes over to the bed. He looks mean. He's little. Goes up to about the top of the lamp. Looking down at me. Got eyes. Big eyes. Big slanted eyes. A bald head. He's looking down at me. He's got a ruler in his hand. Has a tip of silver. 'Pouches me. I see pictures. [Long pause.] I see pictures of the world just blowing up. I see pictures of the whole place just blowing up when he touches my head with this thing. [Weeps.] Jesus. It's a picture of like a whole big blast, and there's a dark red fire in the middle of it and there's white smoke all around it.

"Remembered voice: That's your home. That's your home. You know why this will happen.'

"I know why. [Weeps.] Why don't you like me? Wily do you hate me?"'

Dr. Klein: "Who said that?"

"I said that. [Pause.] 'Why'd you just put that thing on me, and it has the whole world blowing up? That's what I want to know. What is this about?! What is it about?!'" (Felt a sharp internal question, wordless.) "'I don't know what it's about! When is this gonna blow up? What's gonna blow up?"' (A flashing picture of my son.) "I know what's gonna blow up. I know what's gonna blow up. I know it is, too." (I was then touched again.) "Oh . . . green. Shows me a park. I see my son. What's this got to do with him? Is this the devil? What the hell is this?

"Remembered voice: 'I won't hurt you.'

"'I know you won't. I know you won't hurt me. Stop! Ah!' The house is burning down! The house is on fire. No it's not. That sounds stupid. Why did I say that?"

"Something woke you up. What happened?"

(I then emerged spontaneously from hypnosis.) "Explosion. I knew that. I was expecting it. I knew just when it would come. He took a little thing like a needle and struck it like a match in front of my face and it made a big bang, pow! And I thought the Mouse was on fire."

Budd Hopkins: "Was he there after this?"

"I don't know. I don't remember a thing. When I said the house was on fire I'm already out of the bed. Right away."

'This was the explosion that Anne and your son —'

"I think the explosion that they all heard. Yeah. He did it with a little needle. Stuck it in the air."

"Why did he show you those images?"

"I don't know why he showed me those images, to be frank with you. They are the most dreadful images."

" Warday? " (A reference to my novel of the same name.)

"I'll tell you the truth, what I feel. I think he showed me images of the future of our world, is what he showed me."

"What about the green?"

"It's a beautiful, green expanse. Was immediately relaxing when I saw that. And my boy. My boy is in the park. My boy is there. And he's happy. That's what I saw. But —"

"Why are you so upset?"

"Because I think the park represents death, and he's there because he's dead. That's what I think."

"Why should the park represent death?"

"I don't know. That's just my impression."

"And the other scene of the world blowing up?"

"It's funny. It's not like of the world blowing up. I've gotta calm down here. I'm told it's the world blowing up. It's a red fire, a big, red, fierce fire with all these horns of smoke shooting out from it in every direction. And they said that's the world blowing up. I mean, Christ. I think we've got a monkey on our back."

Budd Hopkins: "No doubt about that. Other people have been shown this kind of an image, too."

"You know, I feel a tremendous relief right now. This is good, to be able to remember. It's not an easy memory. But it's good to remember. Because I've been fighting to keep it out of my head."

"I can understand that."

"You know. I had a dream back in November. Of Cleveland blowing up. It was me remembering this image of the explosion but I thought it was a single city. so it wasn't so scary. Trying not to be scared of that image."

"You said he had a bald head?"

"He had a bald head and I would say he had slanted eves. It was real hard to see because he kept putting this thing on my head. Almost every time I would move he would put this thing on my head."

"And then you would see an image?"

"I would see these images, yeah. I thought at first the thing was talking but when you hypnotized me again I could see the -images. He had a little ruler thing chat had a silver tip on it, quite silver. because I could see glimmers on it and it's dark in the room. Did you try to light up the room for me or something when you said the room was light?"

"I didn't."

"Because the room was dark. It was very dark."

"I thought you said it was light."

"Oh. I also have the impression that he was wearing covering. Like he didn't — when I looked — the thing that's scary in a way, the thing that scared me at first was realizing he had been there for some time, standing over there in the corner, and y'know I have a feeling about a fierce whoosh of some kind ... . I'm not saying that I was being threatened so much as warned. That was my feeling. There was a very stern warning . . . or maybe it wasn't. Maybe if I had not been afraid of nuclear war and perfectly happy, when he touched that thing to my head other images would have come out. See what I mean?"

Budd Hopkins: "It certainly intersects with —"

"My own fears. Exactly."

"You spent a huge amount of time working on them in Warday. "

"Maybe it was a guy making a psychological test of me. Could it be that? I mean, maybe he was literally testing me, doing something like, as a hypnotist, you might do, using that little silver object in place of your finger. Could that be?"

"It could be, among other things."

"Including that this was some kind of hallucination, but I don't think so."

"Where did he touch you?"

"Right here." (I touched the center of my forehead, just above the bridge of my nose.)

"Very specifically right here. And every time he touched me there would be a burst of images."

Budd Hopkins: "You had no time to think between images?"

"No. This all happened quite quickly."

"They were visual?"

"Yeah, they were visions."

"Not words?"

"Absolutely not. They were pictures." (I became silent. I was aware of a great confusion of pictures in my mind.)

"Whit?"

"Yeah."

"You described two. Were there others?"

"Yeah, but the others are so jumbled up I can't tell what they were. You know. I think increasingly that they might be pictures out of my mind of my worst fears. Like nuclear war and my son being killed. And there's something else in there too that's all jumbled up. Maybe a fear so terrible that I can't even make heads or tails of it under hypnosis."

Budd Hopkins: "You said first that the figure seemed to be covered up, like with a hood."

"Yeah, but when it came close to me I could see its face "

"You said it had a bald head."

"Yeah? Did I?"

"Yes."

"Well, you see, I can sort of see that it had a bald, rather largish head for someone that size. And that its eyes are slanted, more than an Oriental's eyes And they're quite — There's a piercing glare, almost. There's a real fierce look to the whole face. I'm not sure, but at some point I almost thought it looks like a bug. But not-you know, more like a person than a bug . . . but there were buglike qualities to it. Am I getting myself dear at all?"

"Oh, yes. Have you ever seen an image like that before?"

"I don't know. The only thing I ever remember reading about this was in Look magazine years and years ago. 'The Incident' . . . the John Fuller article about people who were picked up. That's all I've read about it. And whether or not they had pictures drawn I just don't know."

"Are you sure you haven't seen an image like that before. What about the book you have?"

"No, it has no pictures like that. I don't think so."

Budd Hopkins: "What about the Hynek book? I think there's a drawing in that." (He referred to a famous book on UFOs by Dr. J. Allen Hynek, The UFO Experience, which he thought I might have read.)

"I haven't read it. But you know, in our culture, there's so much media around .... It's possible, but I don't think so, because this is so damn real. It just seems impossible that it could be an image I picked up from somewhere —"

"It could still be real, and be an image that you —"

"Maybe the drawings were right. That's possible too."

"That's possible. It's also possible that it's something quite inexplicable that you're trying to hang something on, to give it some shape or form."

"Yeah, that's possible too."

"What I'd like to do is go back to that scene again, and see if we can't get some clarification about these other images."

"OK."

"I understand that this is a wearing business, and if you want to check out at this point —"

"No, I don't want to check out at any point. I'm determined to go through with this. And it seems now that there should be more, because it's obvious that this happened to me. And I would be highly irresponsible to myself not to continue."

"The pacing of it could be too fast. I don't want you to feel you have to be a hero in this thing."

"It's not. a question of being a hero. It's much more a question of not wanting to walk out before the end of the movie." (Hypnosis was undertaken using the same method as before, ending with a count up to ten. In about a minute I was rehypnotized.)

"Now I want you to go back to the point where you are having these images. And it's going to be like slow motion now. Everything's going to be going very slow, very slow, very slow. And very dear. Very clear. Tell me what you see."

"The world turns into a whole red ball of fire. It just seems to burst into flames like a little ball of gasoline out in the middle of the sky. And all these . . . smoke . . . things start shooting off it . . . like great horns made of smoke. And we're all there, down there in the red fire, in the middle of it. Then I see that thing on my head and it's gone. Picked it up off my head.

"Now I'm scared of him again. Now I see . . a park.... My little boy is sitting there on the grass . . . he's all wobbly, and he's like he can't move his arms right. He's all wobbly and his eyes look funny." (They appeared entirely black, without any whites at all.) "I have to go over and pick him up and help him. If I don't help him, he's gonna die. [Long pause.]"

(At this point there followed upsetting images of my father's death, images that did not reflect what really happened, but rather my fears about what might have happened.)

"And he puts that thing down on my head again. 'I miss you, Daddy. Oh, God, Daddy, why did you die? [Gasps.] Daddy, why . . . why — I just never got to know you, Dad.' Oh. God, my poor dad, died a hard death. Oh, she couldn't help him. It's my dad dying and my mother's sitting there staring at him like he was a little animal. Why couldn't she at least give him a good-bye kiss or something? I never knew it was like that." (I saw a clear image of my father lying on the couch in our old den, his head thrown back, gasping and choking. My mother was beside him in a chair, watching, too afraid to move. This was totally different from the scene she described, which was what would have been expected from the gentle and loving relationship that had emerged as his life came to its close. The image, though, was deeply shocking to me, and so real that I felt as if I could step into the scene. I then emerged spontaneously from hypnosis once again. It is very unusual to do this, especially from a deep trance like the one Dr. Klein had induced. It was an indication of the extreme severity of the emotions I was reliving.)

"Did that make sense?"

"Did it make sense to you?"

"Yes, it damn well did. It's a picture of my dad, lying on a couch going like that — gasping — jerking . . . and my mother's sitting in a chair, watching. And he dies."

"Did it actually happen?" '

"I don't know. It's not the story she told. Maybe it's something I fear might have happened."

"Was your mother uncaring about your father?"

"No. They had their ups and downs in their marriage, but they were married for nearly fifty years, and I didn't think she was uncaring about him at the end."

Budd Hopkins: "So you feel these thoughts were maybe your thoughts?"

"They were my thoughts. They were definitely my thoughts. I mean, it sure as hell wasn't his father. He's pulling this out of my head is what — he's pulling it out of my mind. He's pulling things like my fear — perhaps there's a suspicion. First of all, when I saw that picture I felt an agony, because I never felt I got close to my father. My dad was distant. He was a loving father, but he always held something back. you know. He was from a very reticent generation. Rural Texans were very inward people. I guess I feel a little bit of guilt about that, or something. You know, I don't know what to make of all this. Do you suppose? I just don't know what to make of it."

"I don't really know what to make of it either, but it certainly sounds as if —"'

"It's just —"

"You were opened —"

"It's so unexpected. This is the last thing I would have thought would have come out of me. And what's weird about it is, why would someone come from a flying saucer and evoke that kind of impression in me? What possible reason would they have?"

Budd Hopkins: "Well, that's not to find out now. That's speculation down the road."

"Like they were trying to find out how I ticked. It really is like that. Unless it's simply that I've come to a time in my life where there's some very difficult and terrifying material that I've got to face and this is how I'm facing it, and there was no little man there. But you know, I say that and I'm telling you right now that it's not true. It's not true. It's incredible, but it's not true. The man was there. He was standing beside my bed as real as life."

"You said, originally, about the December twenty-sixth episode, that it was as if they said to you, when you disappeared, when your ego dissolved, if they had asked you what is your deepest secret, you would have told them right away."

"Right away. Yes."

"So you had an inkling about something. That your deepest secrets were coming out."

"Well, obviously I knew, because the memories were intact and they just came out of my head. Boy, though, if you'd asked me consciously I would have told you I had absolutely no idea what happened during that hour. If it was an hour. I thought I fell asleep after I saw the first glow."

"And the explosion seemed to come right after?"

"He took a little thing like a stick — a needle — and when he moved it even slightly in the air I could see it spark at the end, and he went like that [makes striking motion] and it went bang, and spread a tingling all over my face."

Budd Hopkins: "When I asked Annie Gottlieb what she would have to do to make the sound — I said, 'Suppose you were given resources to make the sound. She said, 'If you had a big, heavy door and you pushed it back against the wall, bang, like that —'"

"It was a big noise."

Budd Hopkins: "And your Anne said it was like something hitting something. Almost like an explosion."

"Yeah. Well for me it was more like a — I can't say it was like a balloon popping, because that's too innocuous a sound. It had a heavier quality to it than that, like some big energy had been released."

Budd Hopkins: "Annie Gottlieb said it had a slapping sound —"

"Not that crisp. More of a thud. It was a big noise. There was a slap, but there was a deeper resonance to it."

Budd Hopkins: "That's what Annie said. We've got four different people to come up with a description of the sound."

"Thunder?"

"It wasn't like thunder, no. Not like thunder."

"It had a clap in it?"

"Well, no, because it didn't last after it. It would be like a clap that ended immediately. It had a deep undertone to it. But mostly riot.. Actually, a clap would be the best — like a deep clap of thunder that had no echo. Just a single noise. But it had a deep undertone to it. It had a very electrical quality to it. If you could make a tiny bolt of lightning in someone's face, you would create thunder right in their face. That's what was done."

"I think we're about finished."

"Yeah, I don't want to go into the twenty-sixth now!"

"We might not be finished with the fourth."

"Now that the fear is over. The turmoil. I feel I don't have a psychiatric disorder. I feel you're right about that. You know what I've got to do? I've got to figure out how I feel about this, because I don't think I'm intellectually going to be able to deny their existence much longer. And I have to understand how to feel about these beings who would come into my house and do something so strange and yet somehow or another so productive."

"How productive?"

"Well, in two ways. One is, they learned a lot about me, if they are interested in me, for whatever reason. This afternoon I just learned a lot about myself. I learned a lot. Things I didn't have any idea worried me. About my dad and mother."

"The other fears —'

"Well, fear of war, obviously . . . and of the death of my son. There is no such thing as a good father who doesn't worry about harm coming to his kid. But the other material is a great surprise. And that's as vivid as it can be. I loved my mom and dad so much. I love my mom, still, and I want to believe that at the end it was as gentle and loving a moment as Momma has always said."

"That isn't an image of what really happened?"

"No. I have no reason to believe that. Maybe something much more subtle is going on here. Maybe that image was created to see how I react to something that would be ultimately terrifying to me. Or maybe they were just trying to find out what kind of person I am."

The session then ended with a decision to continue later in the week. The next night (Sunday. March 2) I called my mother in San Antonio, as I MY to do every week or two. I told her nothing about this matter. And how could I? I had not thought of a way to explain what was happening to us to my seventy-year-old mother on the telephone.

We talked for a time about a friend who was in the hospital. Then, without warning, she suddenly described my father's death to me. I did not ask her to, nor was I even hoping that she would. In the past ten years I have heard this description only once before, the day after he died. She recounted how she had been sitting near him while he lay on the couch. He had spent a restless afternoon. The doctor believed that his heart would soon fail, and had told my mother this just a few days before. Still, they had been together for so long she could not imagine him dying.

In the last years of their marriage they had become extremely close, often sitting hand in hand together, in the wordless communion that sometimes blesses very old relationships. I can hardly imagine a more gentle or loving end to their long time together than what happened at the last.

Mother told me again how she had suddenly heard Dad call her name, and had gone to him and said, "Karl? Karl, wake up." He was lying still and silent .... It was as easy as that.

How was it that she would suddenly retell this story again, after all these years, at the very moment I needed to hear it? The combination of the memory of that terrifying night and this story, told in my mother's calm, sure voice, led me into the most enriching of insights about my buried fears and quilts. I blamed myself for the lack of intimacy in my relationship with my father. He reached out more than he withdrew. Even though I loved him, I moved away. I grew up and left him to age and die without the comfort of his oldest son.

Also, though, I had to make my own life. Beyond its moral sense, the word conscience has always meant to me an active knowledge of one's inner truth, an acceptance of all the sacrifice on the part of others that has been required for one's own development. The prime sacrifice is that of the parents. One can preserve the guilt one feels for it — as I now see that I had done — or one can temper it with acceptance and use it as a building block in the edifice of maturity. In a moment that night, beneath the feather-pounding of the silver wand, I was given a potential that could greatly enrich my life.

If this was a real visitor, giving me a real blessing from some other reality, then why was it hidden in amnesia where I could not gain access to it? Maybe my experiences were only a side effect of some sort of study. Or maybe it was known even then that this rich treasure would eventually be open to me, because the whole experience had been designed in detail by insightful minds engaged in a slow process of acclimatizing humanity to their presence.

Maybe, though, there was another truth here. Perhaps the hypnosis revealed not just the possible presence of visitors but the action of a hidden and tremendously therapeutic potential which, if correctly marshaled, could be of great value.

While there is a long tradition in the fairy literature of the Middle Ages of the use of wands to grant insight, and the angel in the Book of Revelation is said to strike the elect thrice between the eyes and cause them great suffering, modern accounts of visitors contain only one oblique reference to this process. A woman who had an enigmatic visitor encounter in the fifties slowly became insane thereafter. As she did so she would claw at the center of her forehead in the same place where I was struck with the wand, to the point that she gouged herself almost to the bone.

It would be easy to say that the material revealed here is the work of a mind making opportunistic use of some nocturnal disturbances to gain contact with fears that it needed to explore. The glaring difficulty with this supposition is that the whole transaction remained hidden in amnesia until many months later. There is the additional problem of the witnesses, and the "clap of thunder" coming before the "lightning."

The easy route would be to dismiss this material as entirely psychological. That would also be a mistake, at least until the physical effects are explained completely, in detail, and satisfactorily.

A terrifying thing happened to me. Perhaps it involved visitors from somewhere-maybe even from inside the human unconscious. For me, though, the most important thing about it was its essentially human effect. I was a human being, and my part of things involved having a human experience. Even if there was a visitor, it seemed clear that concentration on the human part of the encounter was the key to understanding what meaning it may have for me.

And if the visitor was no more than wind in the eaves or the moon lighting the fog . . . then it was a key to what I mean to myself.

Events of December 26, 1985

SESSION DATE: March 5. 1986

SUBJECT: Whitley Strieber

PSYCHIATRIST: Donald Klein, MD

We met again a few days later. I had occupied myself with other things during the previous four days. but it was hard. It was a great effort not to go to the library and get half a dozen books about close encounters, and another half dozen about possible psychosocial causes for such experiences. But I agreed with Dr. Klein and Budd Hopkins that I must remain as ignorant of this material as possible until after my hypnosis.

Yet I kept remembering that face, darting, the sharp dark eyes glistening, and the silver wand glittering as it rose and fell.

I couldn't believe it could be anything other than an act of mind. While I was prepared to accept that there may be a visitor presence on earth, I was not prepared to find one of them at my bedside practicing psychotherapy with a fairy wand. Surely it wouldn't be that personal.

Surely it would be at least a little like what we would expect.

But there are deep, deep waters running here. If these are indeed visitors, they know us well . . . better than we know ourselves. More than visitors, they may simply be "others," an aspect of being which we have not yet understood.

No matter what exactly is made of it, the combination of all the flying-disk sightings over the past two generations and the smattering of abduction accounts certainly suggest that something strange is going on. Maybe just a strange form of hysteria, but if so an awfully strange one . . . that combines huge lights, little scampering feet — and intimate intrusions into the soul.

Budd Hopkins told me that first hypnosis sessions were often traumatic. These memories are buried for a reason: They are frightful in the extreme. When they first emerge, the mind lives through the panic it has been avoiding. While my experience with the wand is almost unique, the being I saw wielding it is of a type commonly reported.

It was during this week that I began to have a relationship with my own memories. There had been a being present. I had seen it. And I had seen others in December. I remembered the way they had smelled, the way it had felt to be carried by them, the way their pace had looked inside.

I felt complex emotions, ranging from the deepest inner unrest to what I can only describe as an urgency to compliance. I wanted to come together with them on my terms, to find some sort of mutuality.

I have never felt so tiny, so helpless. My boy's words haunted me—" . . . a bunch of little doctors who took me out on the porch . . ." There is nothing so hard as being a parent frightened in the night for your child.

When I returned to Dr. Klein's office, I described myself as "uneasy." He said, "Is that all?"

I admitted: "Terrified."

"Very understandable."

We began the session covering December 26 as soon as I was comfortable. Again, Budd Hopkins was present and allowed to question me under the same rules agreed to in the previous session.

"I want to take you back to December twenty-sixth. Going back to December twenty-sixth. Arid you are having supper. You are going to talk to me now, but stay completely asleep. Completely, deeply asleep. Where are you having supper?"

"In the country."

"Tell me who's there."

"Anne and our son."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Nice."

"What are you doing?"

"We're having super."

"What are you eating?"

"Goose. Cold goose. It's a used supper ... Christmas dinner. And cranberry sauce. Sweet potatoes."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm very happy. I'm feeling great."

"Had you been feeling great the previous few weeks?"

"[Long silence.] I had a hard time up until Christmas."

"What sort of hard time?

"[Long pause.] Was-scared. Unhappy. I felt like the world was caving in on me. Kept thinking there were these people hiding in the closet. Went all through the house every night. Checking."

"Were you checking anything out?"

"I was checking out the house."

"Did you have any idea why you were searching?"

"In case there might be somebody hiding in the house."

"Who might be hiding?"

"People. Them. Those people."

"Did you know about those people then?"

"Yeah."

"What did you know?"

"They might be hiding in the house."

"Did you tell anyone about it?"

"No. I didn't know about 'em."

"Did your wife ask you why- you were looking in the closet?"

"No. She never saw."

"You hid that from her?"

"Yeah. And from my boy. I've got a gun."

"What sort of gun?"

"Riot gun."

"When did you get that?"

"October."

"When in October?"

"We went to the gun store. About . . . the leaves were falling .... I don't know, I think it was . . . in October . . . middle of October . . . but I went right out and got it . . . ."

"What did you want it for?"

"Protection."

"From what?"

"Not sure. I just have the feeling sometimes . . . there are people in the house."

"I'm going to take you forward in time, forward in time to the evening of the twenty-sixth. You're going up to bed to go to sleep."

"Yeah."

"Going up to bed to go to sleep now. I want you to tell me everything that happens. You are going to remain calm, and tell me what happens."

"We go to sleep in bed. I have a real good book to read. Give Anne kiss. Can hear the snow on the house, a little bit of snow. Turn out the light. I go to sleep. Did I turn on the burglar alarm? Hmm. I listen to the radio for a while. They have on 'Our Front Porch'? Jazz. S'late. Turn it off and the whole place fills with quiet. Now I'm getting sleepy. Go to sleep. [Long pause.] Definitely . . . think . . . I hear 'em. I hear them. Comes right in the door, looks like he's wearing — cards. God damn! I can really see this! He looks like he's wearing cards.

"On his chest, this big, square blue card on his chest. An oblong one down on his middle. And he has on a — a round hat. And he's wearing a face mask with two eyeholes and a round hole between them down toward the bottom and he's moving real fast. And he makes stands beside my bed and makes a gesture to the door. And there's a hell of a lot of them! Filing into the room! I'm talking about a lot of them. They're not wearing the cards. They're wearing overalls — coveralls — blue. I can see their heads, which are bald. Time to get up. I get up. I'm scared, you see. I'm scared as hell. I take off my pajamas. Scariest to see Anne. I have to say good-bye to her now. There's two whole rows of 'em. I'm going out. They're moving me.

"They're moving me. They're moving me. Are they moving me from hand to hand? They're little bitty people. I feel like I could almost pick. one of them up with one hand." (I was taken downstairs onto the front porch, where I saw a sort of black iron cot.)

"I don't like the look of that thing. That's a cot. or like a bed. Only-it's for me. I feel sick inside. Just sick! I'm not-I'm not. I'm just sort of watching all of this. Because it always starts like that where you don't know it's not a dream, but it's not, you know. And when they came in, like two big lines of them cane right in the door. The whole room. I mean, there were a lot of them. You're talking about a whole bunch of them.

"I don't know where they are now. I lie down on the cot. It dust gets . . . sort of jumbled. I remember I thought it was almost like getting into the electric chair. And it goes off the back of the porch and I know this is a dream because I'm flying. I'm flying so this must be a dream. I don't want to see the last of that house, though. I don't. I don't want to see the last of that house. [Sobs, gasps.]

"Where is the snow? We're way out in the woods. way the hell. You know, I can't understand this because I've gone so far from- It's like there's vines right on my shoulder. [Long pause.]" (I was trying to hear one of them, who was explaining something to me. But I could not repeat what I heard. Whatever it was, it terrified me. I opened my eyes.)

"What woke you up?"

"I don't know if I can tell you. And also I'm not sure I'm awake. Am I awake?" (The room had a vague look to it, and I felt deeply relaxed.)

"Hard to tell at this point. Why don't we try to go back in. Very quiet. Relaxed . . ."

"It was real clear at first. Then just this second it got —"

"Things will be slowed down for you. We'll go through this very slowly."

"OK."

"Slow and relaxed. Slowing down for you. Back to this time. Are you floating?"

"No, they're carrying me. At least they're around me. You see, what's so funny is I'm lying down and I can see the sky. I can see the clouds. And-they're all around me, though. And I'm naked and I'm not cold. And I can see the sky. This thing has like . . . there's two places for my arms . . . and it's not like a bed. It's got places for my feet and it's got a place for my-head. I'm lying on it and I'm looking up at the sky and I can see . . . things-like the clouds.

"And they have a-there's like a swarm of them, they're around me. And I have a feeling — I don't feel very much. I feel very numb and funny. Not bad. It's kind of nice. It's a feeling like you're just sort of numb. And the next thing I know I'm sitting' . I'm still in this thing but I'm sitting in the woos. It's almost as if it became a part of me. Like a — It keeps me in it, you know, but if I move around it stays with me. And I'm not going anywhere, that's for sure. Because this thing just stays right with me.

"We're sitting in a little — we're sitting in a hole. Like a little hole. I'm just like this. [Shows a semi-reclining position, hands as if grasping the arms of a chair.] I remembered someone sitting right over there, but now I don't remember it. Or they're not there anymore. [Pause.] These people are scaring me. Terribly, because . . . whooof! Right up! Just shot right up. Yeah, that scared the dickens out of me. I saw the trees down there! Now they've got a floor under me again."

"You went up?"

"I just shot right up out of the woods. In this chair. this thing. I just went whoompf, right up out of the woods." (Other people have. reported this sailing up into the air also. I did not see what I entered...Very high?"

"Yeah, you're telling me! I went way up. Right up. I must have gone up a hundred feet. More than a hundred feet. Up past the trees. Just like that. Whooompf. Right up out of the woods. It was like going up in an elevator. Really felt it. I mean, I felt it. Right up. Whoof!

"And now they've got a floor under me. I know this is no dream. I sure hope I get home again. I'm glad they took that thing away. I'm sitting on a bench in a little room. [Sniffs.] And it smells funny. Smells somethin' like cheese in here. Smells kind of nasty, to tell you the truth.

"It's not clean in here. Here's something. Somebody talkin' to me. There is somebody talking to me. Now she walks right past me in the front. And she's wearing a tan . . . suit. She looks like a little person made out of leather, sort of. I see the head real clearly, and you got — you got — it like, you know, makes you sick. kind of, because you know — I can't — I don't know where this thing could be going." (The little room. usually round, is almost a universal experience. A tan suit is also common, as is the description of the skin. Gloving leather has been described. This being, by the way, did not look even a little human. Her looks coincide with one type of visitor that is often described, especially the eyes.)

"'You know what, I think you are old? Are you old?'

"She says, 'Yes, I'm old.'

"She's lookin' — lookin' at me. [ Moves head back, then to left and right, as if being held by the chin and examined.] She's lookin' real close. She's got a matchbox. No, it's not a matchbox." (In this exchange. I remembered a deep, basso profundo voice. She then told me that an operation would he performed.) "'Aww, what is it? What do you mean an operation? What do you mean, an operation? What do you mean, an operation?' I'm getting real scared again. Real scared. Because I cannot do a thing about this. I don't even want to look up at this.

"Can we help you stop screaming? Can we help you stop screaming?

"'You could let me smell you.' She puts her cheek up by my face. They are here. You have to understand that. They are here. 'I'm not going to let you do an operation.'

"'We won't hurt you.'

"'I'm not gonna let you do an operation on me. You have absolutely no right.'

"'We do have a right.'

"That was it, bang. There was nothing to it. I thought they were gonna cut my whole head open. There was nothing to it."

Dr. Klein: "What happened?" '

"Just a bang back behind my head, that's all. Not loud. Just bang. She's sittin' right in front of me the whole time, just lookin' at me. They're moving around back there." (I could sense them, but I was looking at her. She drew something up from below.) "Jesus, is that your penis?' I thought it was a woman [Makes a deep, grunting sound.] That goes right in me. [Another grunt.] Punching it in me, punching it in me. I'm gonna throw up on them. [Pause.]"

(They began trying to open my mouth with their hands.) "'What do you keep wanting to do that to my mouth for?' They keep trying to put something in my mouth. They're real. They're real. Put up her cheek right to me, and they're real! That's the incredible thing here. I've still got this thing in me and it'd be nice to take it out. [Pause. Long breath.] I had a chance to look around in here. And there's a bench, and there's something like a pair of old clothes lying over there on the side. And there's a door. A round door. And it's closed. It has a little black nubbin in it. In the middle of it. And it's closed." (I heard a murmur.) "What the hell did she say to me.

"Voice: 'You are our chosen one.'

"I don't believe that for a minute. It's ridiculous."' (They asked how I knew that it's ridiculous.) "'How did I know that? Because it is ridiculous. Sing that song to somebody else. And also I want to go home.'"

Dr. Klein: "What did they say?"

"'You are our chosen one.' And it's bullshit and I know it right away. S'like a joke, almost. She says, 'Oh no, oh no.' [Imitates singsong.] Y'know, like they're trying to pull my leg. I want to go home.

" 'What if we don't let you go home?'

"But I don't know if she said that or not. I think I think that she said it." (I was shown that door again, which for some reason terrified me. I was asked if I wanted them to open the door.) "'I do not want you to open that door! I belong with my momma and my wife . . . and my boy. That is where I belong. [Sobs.] I don't belong here. I don't know how I ended up here. What the hell did I do to attract all this?"' (She asked if I was as hard as I could get. I did not know exactly what was meant.) "'I guess I am.'

"Voice: 'Can you be harder?'

"'Can I be harder?' Oh, Lord. Didn't know I was hard tike that. 'No, not with you around I can't be harder.'

"Voice: 'What would you like me to be?'

"'What would I like you to be? I'd like you to be a dream, is what I'd like you to be.'

"Voice: 'I can't be that.'

"'I know you can't be that. You just cut me on my finger.' Just like that. He just comes up, pow, bang, gone. Doesn't hurt at all. Doesn't hurt at all. I'm not scared the floor goes away like that. I'm like rolling like a ball. Feels like I'm going backwards in a movie, almost. It's like you just had total freedom and you could fly, only you're not going anywhere except down the rails. Oh, boy."

(I went sailing right back into my living room in no more than a minute. I had no memory of where I had just come from.) "I sit on the couch. I think I'm gonna build up the tire except I haven't got any clothes on. So cold. So tired. I go upstairs. There's two people standing tip here now. And it scares me because I'm — I don't think they were there. I don't think they were there. I go in the bathroom, brush my teeth. I can't get that face out of my head. I sure am glad to get home. Now I have to just go to bed. I see my dark pajamas, blue pajamas. put on my pajamas, tie them up. button them up, get right into bed. I touch Anne. and she's warm God. I wish I could live in a prison. [Sits with eves closed, slumped as if sleeping.]"

"I want you to relax. I want you to go back, back. I want you to see her very vividly, very vividly. I want you to see her face."

"Yeah."

"Why do you say she's a woman?"

"I don't know. I just think it is. Old too. She's got bald she's got a big head and her eyes have bulges . . . she's sort of brown-skinned. not like a black person but like leather. Yellow-brown. And when she opens her mouth her lips are all — she hasn't got lips exactly — but it flops down. Her lips are floppy. I never saw her talking tee me. You know. the truth is. I don't know what that is. I don't know whether it's a bug or what. And I also don't know if it's a woman or not. [Speaks in high, light voice.] It talks like this. It's got sort of a — [Normal speech, as if to creature.] 'You know. I'm not buying this. You ran show me all that little insignia you want, and I'm still not buying this."'

"What did she mean by saving can you get harder?"

"I was about half up. Hard. Penis. And she says. 'Can you get harder?' And the truth is, I could not. I didn't even know I was in that state. And with her around. there's just no way."

"Was this natural, or somehow induced?"

"I don't know. No. But you see, that thing stayed to me. I don't even know when it went out. It was almost like it has alive. It was a big, gray thing with what looked like a little cage on the end of it, a little round nubbin about the size of the end of your thumb. And they shoved it into me . . . they showed me afterward . . , so they must have taken it out of me, but I don't remember them doing it. These things happen sometimes like they're sort of in between. [Pause.] You know, they talk to me, but I can't hear 'em. [Long pause. Sigh.]"

"One thing you mentioned was this message that you were the chosen one."

"Yeah."

"Did you react to that?"

"Yeah. I said exactly what I said then. Because they say, 'You are our chosen one,' and it's just bullshit. Like they're trying to stroke me, you know."

"Did they say chosen for what?"

"Nah. Not for anything. They've got a lot of them, believe me. I've seen some of the others before. All lying down there."

"What others?"

"The other people. There was a whole row of 'em. But that was a long time ago. They didn't know where they were or what they were doing. I was sittin' up in bed. And uh---"

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Where were you?"

"I was sittin' up in bed. And everybody else was asleep. There's a whole bunch of beds . . . [Sounds of distress. Long sigh, as if resigned.] 'I'm glad you let me be awake.' I'm sittin' on a chair . . . dust this gray thing in front of me. 'What is that?' It's got red spots on it. 'I'm tired. I feel sick.'

" 'Do you want to go home?'

"'I don't care if you never take me back home again.'

"'You have to go home.'

"'Who are all those people?'

"'They're all soldiers.'

" 'Why'd they end up in here?'

"'Because they were alone.'

"'What do you do to them?'

"'We look them over and send them home.'

"'What's the point of that?'

"'The point of that is — the point of that is — well.'

"'Why do you look so awful?'

"'I can't help that.'

"'When did. you find my sister?'

' 'She's just down the hall.'

"Patricia? E-p? E-p doesn't look good. E-p looks like she's deader'n a doornail.'

"'She's all right."'

(I then saw my father for the first time. He was standing u , apparently quite conscious.)

"'Daddy!' I'm scared now. They've- 'Daddy! Don't be so scared, Daddy! Dad, don't be so scared! Daddy. don't be so scared! Oh, Daddy! Daddy, don't be so scared! Come on, Daddy. Daddy, it's all right!'

"He says. Whitty, it's not all right! It's not all right!'

"'No, I know it's not all right.'

"'Oh God, what is it?' he asks.

"'I don't know what it is either, Daddy. How'd you get up here. Daddy?' [Gasps, stifled screaming. Slowly subsides. Long breaths. Silence. Emerges spontaneously from hypnosis.] We were on a train. Were we on a train? [Long pause.] I'm not hypnotized."

"Do you recall what went on?"

"Do I recall what went on?"

'The last part of your hypnosis.'

'The last part? We were on a train. I was scared to death. just scared to death. Something had happened to my father. Is that — is that true — is that what I? No. because it's not true. We weren't on a train."

Budd Hopkins: "You talked about your sister."

"Yeah, my sister was there with us."

"Edie?"

"E-p."

''Ebie?"

"No, E-p. Did I say E-p? That was her nickname '

"Do you call her that?"

"That was what we called her back when we were kids. How did I end up back in the — I'm a little confused, because, uh . . . I remember saying I'm twelve at some point, and then I remember seeing that thing again, the same thing that I saw when —"

Budd Hopkins: "What was the thing?"

"The thing is a — why, I keep saying it's a woman, you know. But it's a thing. But I saw her. On the train? What in the world is this all about, because I seem to remember seeing her on a train. On a train? But it's not — it's just not a train. I'm telling you that right now, Budd."

Budd Hopkins: "Your father was there?"

"Yeah. He was there. He was scared to death! And when he le scared I got scared. And my sister was there but she was out like a light. And there was a whole bunch of soldiers there too."

"Regular soldiers?"

"In uniforms."

Budd Hopkins: "And they were out, too?"

"And they had uniforms. They were all lying on —"

Budd Hopkins: "Unconscious?"

"Tables — no, they were beds, but they were solid — no legs. They were going out in both directions, sort of."

Budd Hopkins: "Many?"

"Lots of them. Yeah."

"You were allowed to sit up?"

"I was sitting up. I was happy and sitting up. Very excited. Then the next thing I knew I saw my father and I was terrified because he was so scared."

Budd Hopkins: "Was this the same scene or a different place?"

"No, this was the same lace. It was not quite. I was sitting in a chair and here was a gray thing in front of me like a gray box that came down — totally gray — I could see the edges of it and the bottom but not the top. Because I was restricted sort of in my movements. You know, I keep thinking that this was on a train. I'm still thinking that, but it can't be, can it? I'm talking about memories that didn't happen on a train obviously, am I not? Did I say it happened — you know, I'm beginning to — I'm very confused here! [Laughs.] I don't know what the hell's going on."

Budd Hopkins: "What made you say train?"

"I don't know."

Budd Hopkins: "Did you see —"

"No, no we were on a train. We really were on a train! We were on a train, and I'll tell you, the goddamndest thing happened when we were on the train. We ended up in this thing when we were on a train. The three of us were on a train. I'll tell you what we were doing, too. We were coming back from Madison, Wisconsin, on a train. In the year 1957. and that's when all this happened. I have no idea how I ended up there from being on a train."

Budd Hopkins: "Did you see like seats going back —"

"No, no, we were — you're kidding. My father didn't go on trains in seats. We were in a great big drawing room."

Budd Hopkins: "You were in a drawing room, OK."

"Yeah. Together in a room. And all of 'a sudden I'm not on a train, I'm sitting up in bed, and all these soldiers —"

"Did you have any covers?"

"No, no — yeah — there was a little — don't go so fast for me, Budd. I know you're eager to know, but my mind, my mind keeps-there's something in me that keeps saying,

'You're on a train, you're on a train, you're on a train.' And it's like I'm — it's very hard — but no. there weren't covers. There was — my impression was there was something soft under me. It wasn't an unpleasant place to be, in that sense. It had solid sides that came up a little bit above the edge. Then I was sitting up in it. Then I was sitting on the edge. You see, I don't remember moving. That's the thing that's funny about it. I remember being in one place and then in another place. That's the damndest thing. I never remembered anything like that before."

"Now in that situation, when you're sitting up, was your father there?"

"No, I sat in front of this gray thing for a while, in a little chair. And then, all of a sudden I saw my sister down here, kind of [points down and to the right], lying there just totally out. And I was real surprised and scared, and I feel scared again. Then when I saw my father he was standing up and he looked totally bereft and terrified. Scared, so scared. And he put his head down and started doing this, and it just scared the hell out of me." (I made a convulsive mouth movement, imitating my father. It was as if he was trying to get something out of his throat.) "And then I heard him screaming, but real faint, you know. I could see him — he was no farther away than you are" (about four feet) "but I could hear him very faintly, dust screaming and screaming. The second I heard him it put just a — a — terrifying fear in me. I remember that, right sitting here, the way that felt, it just went right through me. It was worse than the last time, last week, only the difference is that when you started out you said to be calm, and it was breaking through that, and that's why I woke up. When Daddy was scared, I was just scared to death."

"You said you took a trip."

"Yeah, the trip happened. And not only did the trip happen, something did happen on the trip. Because, on that trip, on the way back I was as sick as a dog. Vomiting and vomiting, up bile. And my father was just having a hell of a time. God, he must have had a rotten trip, poor man."

"You mean —"

"He was having a hell of a time with me because I was so sick."

"Your sister still alive?"

"Yeah."

"There was something — you were describing as if you'd seen it before."

"You know what I saw before? The woman. The same person."

"That occurs in hypnosis. We have these spontaneous age shifts. Frequently what will happen is that somebody will under hypnosis see something they've seen before, or something like it, and age shift will occur."

"I remembered vaguely before hypnosis that I knew someone there. But I just put that out of my mind because that's impossible. You can't — I mean, it's one thing to deal with something like that, and an entirely different thing to find out you know one of them already. [Laughs.]"

Budd Hopkins: "What about this thing about the woman —"

"This is just so strange! Will you stop for a minute, Budd, I just can't stand this. I mean, it's just we're gonna have to talk about this another time because I just need to rest."

"Let's go up and relax."

"Yeah, I've just had enough."