Through the Looking Glass
When the realization of entities being physical finally sinks in, there's an immediate psychological problem. It takes quite awhile for the realization, depending on one's experience (and ability to rationalize away anything that bothers them); it takes far longer to be alright with it. Most people have a hard enough time with the authority of their parents, their boss, their government, their church; pulling "entities" into the flesh is kind of like giving some strange Being with godlike powers the key to your house. At any unexpected moment he might just pop in with a lightning bolt for a little talk about your lifetime of mortal misunderstandings. Makes one a bit jumpy and neurotic, not knowing intentions, motivations or reasons... waiting in suspense.
Intangible entities floating about in the Ether are quite alright with me. Good reading on a rainy day. It comes under the same category as ghost stories around a campfire and those amazing tales they tell in Sunday School when you're a kid. But entities being in the flesh -- and at their whim -- is quite another. Survival instincts kick in, and suddenly their baffling nature seems less a romantic mystery than a threat. And unlike the pre-defined Ghastly Evil of ghost story characters, or the assumed Benevolent Altruism of religious characters, there is no certainty about friends and enemies: one finds themselves face to face with a group able to be as physical as the nearest political enemy yet as baffling as a distant God.
Bewilderness. That's what I've decided to call this mentally, emotionally, psychologically, dimensionally, spiritually confused borderzone of the lost. I live in the twilight zone. And the only thing more confusing than being in the twilight zone is supposedly being in "real life" and not being totally sure which one I'm in... I was really upset last night, wanted to call you and have you tell me I was just being an idiot, but you're likely off at the cabin having fun I suppose, how inconsiderate of you, ha.
I know I've said this before. But. It fully penetrated my brain at about 2:00am -- again -- that these "entities" I have been working with are real. I mean sure, we can wax philosophic about everything being extensions of ourselves, but these guys are as real as you are to me, they're physical when they want to be, and damn it, I just can't understand that part. It's very disturbing to me. I know I keep thinking I'm ok with it and then I just get upset all over again.
It's so convenient to sit around and talk about personal reality. Quite another to put it into literal use. If they are "metaphysical beings," my work of the last year is groovy and educational and... safe. As physical beings it's a whole 'nuther story to my psychology.
People are such armchair philosophers about this -- me included -- you think you've got it worked out in your head, you know? In the first place, these things are easy for some people, sometimes me, to dismiss as "only what you make them" and not subject to the good evil criteria because you tell yourself it's just a dream, or it's semi-physical but that's astral, and it's not totally physical. Sometimes you can even admit it's physical -- but in words... not concepts. But the moment it becomes absolutely REAL, absolutely IN YOUR FACE IT'S NOT A JOKE in the physical, it throws everything into another category of judgement.
It escapes the cerebral "Oh, I don't buy into the good-evil polarities" stuff, and goes right into, "Your next door neighbor is accused of being a rapist and I've seen him peeking in your window at night." Totally different psychological reaction, because there's a totally different assignment of threat inherent in their physicality.
I've had numerous encounters over the last few months that seemed less than pleasant. But I've ignored them. I've believed that it's just my own fear, misinterpretation, lack of understanding, etc. I've also had encounters that didn't contain any "heebie jeebies," my having no memory of any emotion at all, but did have memory of things that indicate such. (Like me trying to run away and being dragged back, or a repeated disillusion that the people who "brought me there" kept making promises to me and then breaking them, and I couldn't trust them. Or that I saw them hurt others and it kept me from acting up.) But I've ignored all that too. Repeatedly. I just don't even write down the bad stuff. "It's not important." Often it doesn't even come to the conscious level as "relevant," even when I'm sitting there typing out experiences. It's weird. It's like I have the memory, but it has a tag on it that says, "This isn't important and doesn't relate to anything," so I never focus on it.
On the other hand, I've taken the positive experiences for all they're worth, being quite happy to feel I was learning. Although I seldom of late feel anything like "love" which I did a couple times initially, with beings that I had a different impression of how they "looked" and what we did together, I have learned an awful lot, and to me that's a positive experience, learning. So I've taken the positive ones seriously and ignored the negative ones.
For awhile I had convinced myself to stay lucid because I wanted to be more aware of what was going on. But when I did, I kept flipping out over stuff. Some of it was my fault -- it was like dream logic, something totally irrational would set me off. But often it was just that something there would upset me, I'd get a bad feeling or whatever, and (if I were physical) either wig out or, if I were totally lucid and bi-located instead of physical, I'd "Yank myself back here" which is easier said than done and always shocked them (and made them mad, as well). (I'm not sure if I'm merely pulling myself out of intensely real hypnotic imagery, or yanking myself out of some kind of literal bi-location.)
But then I got the idea, you know, that my being lucid was really unnecessary and was interfering with my learning process, so I told myself to stop it and promptly did. Now I can't seem to invoke it even when I want to. I'm actually devolving in my mental abilities, not improving.
I've had numerous times where someone was "downloading" something into me, into my mind or whatever. Information, et al. I can never remember it in the morning -- or when I "come to" because often I get snagged at any time of day -- well I've been real happy about this. Gosh, I thought, it's too bad I don't know what I'm learning, but I feel I'm learning something, and that's just groovy.
Well looking back over the last few months, the various experiences and threads of memory, and my decisions about all this, I'm disturbed. And that's putting it mildly. I don't feel my decisions or thoughts have been consistent with what I would normally think; they don't seem logical, or rational. I mean, I don't think it's rational to have such an incredible denial of all negative input and memory, to start with. Seeing the best in things is one thing, but this exceeds that.
The more people who mentioned this good/evil thing, the more fervently and annoyedly I insisted that I had never had any such incident to lead me to believe that was the case. If someone said it was all about genetics or sex or whatever, often many of the occasions I've had personally would flash through my mind while I spoke or wrote, but I ignored them. Not on purpose. Just... at the back of my mind. They didn't even strike me as "relevant" to the subject that my brain would pull them out of the database and include it, even though they were close enough to be the same thing, even though somebody was describing something so close to my own experience... and I never wrote it down, and I never mentioned it when it came up, and I have a difficult time remembering them, even right this moment. I don't think it's that my memory is unclear. It's that I can't access the memory properly.
Part of the reason it upsets me so much is the way I have been ignoring them. I guess you'd have to know hypnosis well to fully understand, but there's a certain way of making a person ignore something... when you tell a person not to see something, it's not that they don't see it. It's that they don't pay attention to it. It's not a blinder, it's a misdirection. And they will argue until the world ends that the thing is not there. But they do see it. They just don't pay attention to the fact they see it. Am I making sense? Anyway, it's just like that for me. And the volume of evidence on this subject that I suddenly see -- obviously this is something you'd just have to take my word for -- is large enough to truly be a concern.
It's not a vague, intangible thing running through my head that if I just have a more positive attitude will go away. A lot of people treat this stuff like it's some kind of new age spirit guide tea party. I think this stuff gets invalidated. I'm the first to mention self-creation as part of this, and yet, this idea that it's somehow non-autonomous, like our daydreams or non-lucid dreams, is not correct. It's as real as if I had next door neighbors move in who were the other party involved. It's easy to say that if someone is put in an uncomfortable situation on any plane that they "created it" in some cosmic sense. But astral is just as valid when it becomes physical, and might be even when it doesn't. And the physical you don't have the same tolerance for, or excuses for. You wouldn't take it with such disregard when your neighbors come over at 6pm daily and bop you upside the head or something. You take it more seriously when it is physical.
Well, I know you dislike this entire "alien" subject but this is real, and it is physical, and these guys are not just delusions, they are active autonomous entities separate from me (as much as humans are from me). This is really hard to fully comprehend, but when you do and it's your life, it is really shocking. It's hardly my fault that they're not parked on the lawn of MIT so somebody can study them and prove them. They're physical with me. Conveniently unprovable, which infuriates me, like they know enough to work it out that way, and instead I just seem crazy.
And of course, the base of a trillion different stories, as it turns out, is that certain "entities" (one guy calls them "UB's" for Unidentified Beings which I think is appropriate) do "download" stuff into you -- and some say that often what they're downloading is beliefs, thoughts, ideas, etc. Now I know the download is possible, that part isn't in doubt for me, and I know they do so. To me, the only part possibly in doubt is the content. And for some reason I can't fully explain except as a strong intuition accompanied by a real sense of some trauma, I suddenly feel that my positive attitude, my strong goodness belief system, and my complete lack of attention to 95% of any negative stuff I remember, did not originate with me. I feel that my denial of a lot of stuff has been, shall we say, encouraged.
This not only freaks me out (because it is very disconcerting to not feel that what you think/ believe/ feel came from you, since it feels like you if it's part of you), but also sets off about 7000 warning bells with me about why this would be necessary. If they're really nice guys, why would they need to encourage me to overlook their behavior? I look at all my reasoning, from the not paying attention, to not taking it seriously even when it was physical and even dangerous, to the non-lucidity decision, like it is all just the stupidest damn thing I've ever heard in my life, and I can't believe I actually thought that was rational. Added to the negative experiences which I conveniently don't write down, added to my occasional feelings of "punishment" like when my brain won't wake up, I'm worried.
Now, I have never been so naive as to think that any particular entity was teaching me things with nothing in mind except my evolution. Even if that is the goal, which I've assumed it is, I assume that if they are separate which they appear to be, then they have separate motivations as well. Their motivations might just happen to be constructive to us is all.
But now... I'm not so sure. My initial contacts all had a sense of "love" to them, not to be mushy or ridiculous, but you know what I mean. And a couple of times I've met beings that all but made my molecules vibrate with love. And initially I always had the feeling I was really evolving and it was a "high" kind of thing. But the last few months, with 'doons of any kind (my pet name for them, the term spans "any kind" of "other" entity, etc.), I have felt less of that, and now that I think about it, realize if anything I have felt a sense of unhappiness, discomfort and confusion that I've been ignoring along with everything else.
Never mind. I feel great now. I'm sure I was just overreacting yesterday. I was gonna delete all that but I restrained myself (had to almost physically!); I'm making myself keep it or this will never get sent until it's outdated.
Talk about psychology. I had a dream last night that I woke up and went out with a group of people, including children who were half and half alien/humans, to that movie "True Lies". (It is in the theatre right now.) But there wasn't any movie, it was closed and dark inside, there was this empty theater except for us, and I was shown the difference in various genetic strains of humans, hybrids, aliens, etc. There was something like a scrapbook with pictures, but the pictures were... well let's say, it was more realistic, more like a computer with graphics. Once I opened my robe and showed them my breasts, which they all viewed and touched like something totally new and strange to them. Their bones are different textures and tensiles, like they're stronger or weaker, lighter or heavier, denser or not, depending on the... person. What a trip. The name of the movie combined with the content of the dream really cracked me up! And it reminded me briefly, when looking at some of the "mixed" bones, of the dream of the woman who had the flesh of her face burned off in a dream long ago; the texture of the bone of some of the examples struck me as similar, and important, but I can't seem to make the connection about why. I don't know what this has to do with anything. Funny dream though.
Up until that point, the bravest I'd been about the UFO/alien subject was in CompuServe, in a couple of areas where people discussed these things. I snuck in, using the nickame PJ instead of the too-unique Palyne, hoping nobody in "real life" would recognize my name and associate me with such an embarrassing subject, and I posted a few of my stories and waited to see people's response. I didn't do much reading of other peoples' posts except those who responded directly to me, mostly because I didn't have time; I was working long hours around then.
Other than a book by Sitchin about archeology and history, I hadn't read any books directly related to the subject. (I'm sure I could have picked information up from other sources, of course.) I only mention this because in effect, what validation I had gotten was some little stuff here and there. Even the small things amazed me, but thus far the validations were mainly regarding the emotional component of this, the psychological effects that I found in common with a range of people who responded to my posts.
Then I encountered my first "real" validation. As it turns out, it was a story that had been around for quite some time, and was famous no less, but my avoidance of this field had made it unknown to me except as a title. I rather wish I had heard the details sooner, since I would have felt validated much earlier, and much less confused, if I'd known it wasn't merely "dream characters." However, something about the coincidence of a physical object, a detail, seemed to make an impression on me unlike anything had before. It was sort of like reading something in the newspaper: to me, it "made it real." To hear it stated in relation to a story that was bad upset me even more.
It was an external version of the "down to earth shock" that the "implants" had given me internally: suddenly it seemed -- again -- so physical, there was no backing down, no only kidding, no just a dream, no getting out of it, no 'this was fun but I'm changing the channel now.' I could hardly breathe when I realized the degree of similarity my experience shared with somebody else. It kick-started my psychology into facing fully-on the acceptance that this couldn't be just my own dreams, there had to be something more to it. (Despite that I kept thinking I had integrated that idea, it seemed to shock me again and again.) I realized my bravado had been mostly philosophy, because it scared the crud out of me.
I just spent the last 15 minutes crying. No matter how much I say I believe this, once in awhile something will hit me that shocks me into realizing it's "real."
Do you remember one of my "weird stories" about being in the white cell, and escaping out into hallways/stairways and being "caught?" And the blonde guy who tackled me on the landing of a stairway and put something over my face that was kind of like a clear oxygen mask, without tubes, but was immediately (pushed?) off me by some extremely tall... thing?
Well dad had this video of some old Nova UFO special, I found it tonight, went to say goodbye as he's off to OK for vacation, and I dragged it home and was watching it. You know I've always been clear about my avoidance of things, but I've really been opening up lately, and it seemed like it'd be more a PBS type thing, that wasn't too bad I guess. (Actually, it was bad, and I'm embarrassed that a supposed professional look at things could be so obviously biased. The non-believers have a string of letters after their names, and the believers are some loony preacher with a congregation of one in New Mexico and has shrines to aliens or something... ok, so I'm exaggerating for humor, but it was so unfair it was almost laughable.)
Well I'm yawning through it, and then they mention this guy Travis Walton, which reminds me that he's the name that dad said was part of that movie "Fire in the Sky" which he kept telling me to go see but as usual I'm sort of in denial on the subject and didn't of course.
(I told my father and stepmother not too long ago over pancakes, with a totally straight face, that I had been talking to aliens. My stepmom says slowly, "You're normally so logical, I can't believe you said that." Dad grinned, "I think you may be crazy." I looked at them, and them at me, and we all just cracked up. And it hasn't been mentioned since. But now that I don't avoid it like I used to and he knows I'm interested, dad's always encouraging UFO stuff. He seems to find it quietly fascinating, a funny tendency since he's otherwise a remarkably straight and "normal" kind of guy, won't even watch scary movies. I've been planning to rent that movie if/when it comes out on video and I have time.)
Anyway, so they show this Travis guy, and he's describing his experience. Then he gets to this part where he says something (to paraphrase) about the oxygen masks. Little details even, no tubes, clear -- and human-type people. Hearing such a small but intimate detail from one of my own dreams really upset me, and I'm not sure why. I hit "pause" and simply hyperventilated for awhile.
I think it's because on an almost weekly basis I get some "validation" of what's going on. I meet people who have experienced any one of a zillion little details that I have.
Maybe it's a group dream not limited by time. (Then again, maybe LIFE is that.)
If I said it and they agreed, I wouldn't believe it much. If I heard it and then experienced it I would invalidate it, figuring I imagined it. But to experience it, and later hear about it, that's just too validating. While it makes me feel so much better in one sense, it only increases my fear.
The abrupt shift -- again -- to viewing my night life as related to physical "Aliens" (as opposed to just astral "entities") rekindled a number of psychological and physical symptoms that had been gradually diminishing. The main one was the general obsessiveness, and energy. I began to think that perhaps this reaction was some kind of survival skill kicking in, a focus, intensity, and energy usually reserved for brief moments of passion or life/death situations. Having it nearly all my waking hours was physically and emotionally exhausting.
Various other symptoms continued. My ability to relate to time was one of them; I had so little clue about time that at work, I bought little clocks with alarms and put them everywhere. My time sense was so distorted that what seemed like three hours could be 15 minutes, and what seemed like 15 minutes could be 6 hours. I could begin a project, like a simple letter, and by the time I was done it was nearly the end of the day; I could do projects that should have taken me 6 solid hours and when done I found it was only an hour later. I lost all ability to judge time. My ability to stay on track with deadlines went down the drain. Trying to minimize the effect on my working life, I set alarms, and had the answering service call me and remind me about things.
I had one week that was so strange I nearly lost track of my own sanity. I went into work on a Monday, and worked all day. At the end of the day two employees left, saying goodbye. I decided to finish what I was doing and go on home. About 10 minutes later I looked up from my computer as one of the employees came back. Did you forget something? I asked. She didn't seem to hear me and began chatting, and I realized she thought it was Monday morning. I was confused. The sky was a similar color; but it couldn't be that I had spaced out the night, not on a Monday.
I sat at my computer breathing shakily and thought to myself, There has to be some way to prove this. Then I realized that the work I had done would be the proof to myself -- especially computer files. I could imagine how freaked out my employee would be if I could show her computer files dated hours ahead of the actual date. But as I began to look for the files, I had the strangest physical feeling... it felt like "my memories of the day were being sucked out of my chest." And within five minutes, not only was I not surprised to not find any of the work I had done, but I had forgotten nearly all of it anyway. I couldn't even remember what to look for after a few minutes. That was just Monday. That whole week was a total trip.
The psi phenomena continued, but became for the most part dull: I had no life, hardly, outside of work, so anything I knew was coming was usually just a working conversation, a small event at a place I was eating, or something like that. Less prophecy than boring foresight.
The random, almost poltergeist-type of disappearance of items (and reappearance of items) continued, but on a lesser scale. I eventually found that if I talked out loud to an assumed group of "entities" moving things (as opposed to the items merely flashing around, or at my control) it seemed to diminish. One day I said, "Are you trying to get my attention?" and meditated on the subject, to find myself dragged into a surreal dream that I couldn't remember very clearly but seemed distinctly related somehow. After that it diminished far more, to only sporadic, and when a number of things would "go wacky" as I'd call it, all at once, I'd know "they" wanted my attention, and I'd say "OK, I'll meditate, we'll talk, but give me time, I've got to work. I'll be back." -- and it would be ok.
Whether this means there was someone there to talk to, or whether my psyche merely found comfort in the idea, using it like an allegory to solve the problem (which I find more likely) I don't know. I tend to assume everything's my imagination unless proven otherwise, so I figure my subconscious needed to feel better about it. However there's something to be said for the idea that entities may in some cases have been desperately trying to get my attention, to break me free of the non-thinking, non-attentive state, to help me change my belief systems so that I could deal with some of this. When I repeatedly ignored things, it got more extreme until I nearly "cracked." Nowadays I think it's as much a communication (even if with myself) as a coincidence.
Night before last, I was minding my own business mildly daydreaming after my shower when I totally lost my lucid lock on it and conscious control of it. I don't mean I fell asleep, I mean it was like I was just "shifted" out of being in control of my own daydream. At which point it changed into something else, very vivid, not at all lucid. Technicolor with Dolby Sound, as a woman I know used to describe her "visions." It's like some of the other visions and waking "dreams" I have... too real for comfort... and I'm "in it."
There had [apparently] been this incredibly strong earthquake. There were things (like buildings) ruined. I was walking down streets, with this feeling of understanding, oddly calm considering the situation. I was walking around looking to see who might need help (? seemed like the thing to do).
There was this one building like a small apartment building. And there were men on the former roof, the whole thing had half-collapsed like a house of cards and was near rubble. They were digging through big pieces, and this woman was standing on the sidewalk just bawling her head off. I "knew" they were trying to find the woman's child who'd been inside when it went down. They were trying to look under the debris; it was difficult, because it was shifting, the rest of the building was in danger of falling, and the ground kept trembling with aftershocks.
I climbed up to the edge of the area near where they were searching and just stood there. A man says, "What are you doing?" And I said distractedly, I'm thinking... but I was actually "feeling." Maybe "sensing" is a better word. As if some intangible and yet physically connected extension of my thought was feeling around, like some kind of sonar attached to me. And then I turned around and pointed to this one exact area and said, "Under there. Just a few feet down. She's alive." And I could "feel" her under there, like a conceptual location thing, as if the X coordinate of her and the Y coordinate of me formed a sort of geometric conjunction and I could feel the length of the whole thing. (Like in the "Star Geometry" experience I could "feel" where everything was, in or out of my vision, as if it were both connected to me and inside me somehow.)
Then abruptly I came to, literally shocked at the intensity of it. And I thought Whoa! Well that would sure make T. laugh, the idea of me being some kind of "helper" in a time of natural disaster -- the supposed "walk in" scenario that I've dismissed openly to the point where he might loathe me now, I've been pretty invalidating about it I confess in retrospect. It just seems so stupid. It's going to be really embarrassing if it turns out I am some cosmic alien who walked in to help around the planet during earth changes, though the idea still strikes me as ludicrous.
Man! -- I hate these doom visions.
The vision disturbed me, because like many visions or dreams along these lines, it had the unmistakeable feel of "prophecy."
If you should ever hear people waxing poetic about the subject of prophecy, like it's some kind of wonderful gift, don't buy that for a minute. Only wanna-be's are happy about it. It gets old fast, and is more traumatic than enlightening. It seems to make modern-day prophets feel cosmic, you'd think, but give me a break. Most of the time I'm happy just to get through another day without screwing up anything of great importance. The Doom of Mankind is more than I feel personally qualified to deal with.
I tried to separate myself from it and analyze it as best I could. I began to wonder, eventually, if "the feel of prophecy" in these visions could be compared to "the feel of family" in entities. I had finally determined that so-called telepathy (as opposed to empathy) nearly always created a feeling of family, of deep connection, in me. I was forced, finally, to conclude that it wasn't so: if I were family to all of these guys I'd have to be as much a mutt astrally as I am physically! I decided it was a side effect of the "type of communication."
Eventually I took it at face value while "there," and didn't take it very seriously while "here." I began to treat it like I treated PMS: it was a created emotion, and it was in me, big deal -- I acknowledged that it existed, determined it had no logical bearing on the subject, and so allowed it but ignored it, and it had little bearing on my behavior and less on any decisions.
So as a comparable theory, my working conclusion is the "type" of communication one receives this kind of vision or waking dream from may create a feeling of "living it," of "real-ness," that seems like prophecy, it feels like prophecy, because it feels like we were really there, which indicates on an emotional level that "it's really going to happen." (Or rather, that it now has, and is therefore inevitable.) That does not mean, objectively, that it's really going to happen, and in all of my visions along these lines, it did not. Maybe there are probabilities and I just had a tendency to view potentials that I had the good luck not to get stuck in. Or maybe my translation abilities are just lousy. But they didn't happen.
There were a few that if I really stretched my imagination, I could say fit a certain scenario that later happened in the world, but I felt that was more my attempt to "make it make sense" than anything that would be legitimately matched up by an objective party.
This taught me to distrust my emotions and experiences, to some degree; to go ahead and accept them, yet without necessarily considering them valid, or feeling any need to prove them real or explain them.
Another side effect of shifting back towards the belief that my experiences were "real" instead of dreams was an intensified feeling of emotional attachment to some of the entities. The small sweet skinny ones in particular, I sometimes called them "the fragiles;" I had a protective feeling about them. In my case, this came with a kickback of guilt. A few I had beat up, if not grievously injured, in what I thought were dreams, one in particular.
When I realized how "real" all this was, I was literally stricken with grief at having hurt my friend. To this day, I feel an emotional bond with her, and a sense of tragedy, wondering if, if I really injured her badly, would or could they fix her, I hope? I want to say I'm sorry and fix her myself, I feel a serious responsibility. I think it's because in some way, my emotional link with them reminds me of how I feel about children; I'm really not maternal, but there is some psychological connection to that emotion I have with them; and there is a vulnerability about them that makes me loathe to harm them, and instinctively want to protect them.
Some of the people on the computer forum were convinced "the government" was the Evil-est Alien of them all. I don't know that they're wrong, I'm no expert on the subject, but I do know they sound paranoid. There may be a good reason for it, or there may not. The end result, however, is that the slightest objectivity about the subject, let alone support of the military, is enough to get one branded a "disinformer." Eventually it becomes clear that most of these folks have a problem with anything that threatens their theories.
It's illogical, but it seems most of the official "UFO field" is as unobjective, unprofessional and emotionally involved as the virulent skeptics who, like wanna-be Atheists, swear they don't believe in it but spend all their time hanging around groups talking about it. (Or in doing experiments (while reaching so far for conclusions you'd think they'd snap in the middle) to "disprove" it to themselves that say far more about their own mental state than anybody else's.) Skeptics are often outright evangelists on the subject, but they don't have the corner on acting like fools; both groups are an equal pain in the you-know-what after awhile.
Considering the bizarre nature of all this stuff to begin with, you'd think we could just agree to spray the whole subject with a stunned sort of amazement right up front, before diving in, as a kind of pre-antiseptic to what one may find at any moment that might be upsetting to one's belief system. Taken in bulk, there's enough information in this field to convince just about anybody with half a brain that something is going on (the "what" being the big question); the real problem is getting people to actually read or study the information already available (and keep them from dismissing a mountain of evidence because they found some pinhole that makes no sense to them). Perhaps if there were less fear about it, if we just agreed we'd disbelieve and then studied it as a matter of creative novelty, more serious work would get done, unimpeded by the personal problems of researchers who ought to be trained well enough to know better.
As time went on and I got more expressive about my own experience and feelings about it, I began to encounter more debate than support with online acquaintances concerning the UFO/abduction subjects, and when it got to the government or military aspect of things, I continued to baffle and infuriate everybody. I supported the belief that even if there were such a thing really, and even if the government knew about it, it would be completely illogical for them to cause panic in the populace by announcing it, or worse. While I've always loathed bureaucracy, when it came to the military I admit, I had a very positive view of "America." My sister was a Marine for years, I came very close to joining the military myself, and I don't have anything but respect for the various corps in general.
I see the results of "the belief in another equal (or more) life form" all the time lately with people who, after a lot of searching from one direction or another, realize that these guys some call aliens are "real." It is psychologically devastating and many of these people are free thinking, open minded, intelligent, rational individuals, some even with little or no personal experience known of to add to the emotional impact.
I would like to think that the planet would collectively say, Oh gosh, now let's not be prejudiced, how groovy, people from outer/inner space. But I'm more inclined to think that the result would be distasteful were it to hit suddenly. I think the best thing the government or anyone else could do is let it gradually assimilate into the culture, more and more, until it was accepted by a large enough percentage of the populace that revealing the facts wouldn't be very shocking. Which seems to be what's happening. I'm not overly hip on the government's tactics as a general rule, and refuse to defend them, but on this case I am hard pressed to disagree with their apparent quest for secrecy.
Needless to say, this point of view made me no friends at all. Nowadays, I don't feel that way, but I really don't know what I think about it instead. I've switched views, debated, changed my mind a dozen times a day -- this whole subject is so boggling I bet even the ancient philosophers would have thrown up their hands and got real jobs. Ethically there are so many layers of confusion, fears and dangerous potentials that it's impossible to sort out; I change my mind about the subject regularly.
One thing that did become clear, not too long after my dipping a toe into this field, was that I wasn't at all objective myself, even on the "related" subjects. I had, for instance, not only a bizarre denial of most of the subject (despite being in the middle of it!), but a real personal attitude problem with "abduction groups" of any kind, even via computer.
Can you fill me in on the local "abduction support group?" Do I have to feel miserable and victimized about it to be a member, or are all people regularly involved in the "phenomenon" welcome?
Bewilderness is copyright © 1993 to present to Palyne "PJ" Gaenir (palyne.com). See bewilderness.com.