It’s time, I think to say this. Be warned, this is a completely subjective account with no proof, and it’s probably going to mar my credibility factor, (can you tell I was born in the 50’s?) but what the hell, its time.
At around four years old there is something about the consciousness that changes when you reach a certain growth stage… it’s like at four you finally fit in the body you’ve been growing into, and have a sense of self, or that the information in your brain has reached a tipping point for you to realize that you are you.
That is the age that the night terrors began – well, that I can remember, that is. I was terrified of my dark room at night. I didn’t like my closet, and even though my mom would open the door for me, and show me that nothing was there I knew she was wrong, because I could feel it. Years later I would call it the ‘presence’. It was kind of like that feeling you get when someone is behind you. It would make my skin crawl. I was so scared of this that I wet my bed, rather than get up, because if I made a cocoon of my covers, hid in that cocoon, I was safe. My poor mother. Well, I got over the bed wetting rather quickly. I also was still terrified.
There were multiple trips out to the living room every night for drinks of water, a snack, any excuse I could think of; questions about life, why the sky was blue, what would we do tomorrow – kids can be very inventive. When none of that worked, it degraded into threats and spankings. Light seemed to help me, so when they would close the door, I would go turn on the lights, they assumed I was playing, and I would, of course, get yelled at. I also hated having the door closed – that meant help was too far away. Which, of course, meant that eventually the door lock was reversed so they could lock me in and the ceiling light bulb was taken out. I learned how to breathe under the covers and they eventually quit locking me in so I could use the bathroom. To this day, I prefer the doors all open, and I hate absolute dark.
On one of those nights, after repeatedly getting yelled at and threatened, I was so depressed and sorry for being ‘bad’, and feeling so helpless because nobody believed me, lying in bed trying not to cry, trying to figure out what to do. I asked the question to the air around me, “Is everybody, everywhere, this mean and angry?” like, is this all there is and will this be the only way it is? (My sister was about 2 years old, making me about 6 years old, I was in the top bunk – so she had to be old enough to be in a bed, not a crib.) I was on the verge of finally falling asleep when I asked this question, and I will never forget what happened next.
I was somehow with a group of people, they were adults. I could not so much see them as feel them, and there was in my mind, a dusky image of shadowed beings in a circle or bunch. One person was speaking to me, but I could feel all the others. There was so much love. The person speaking was a she – she felt like a she – I couldn’t see her. What I was given to understand was that, ‘No, not everybody, everywhere was mean – could I feel all the love surrounding me?’ My tired little body and heart fell asleep to that, cocooned in that feeling of love. I remember thinking that this was the way it was supposed to be. I did not fall asleep afraid. (The tears still come to my eyes writing this)
This began an odd sort of relationship. I could ask questions, and get answers. The answers would be in my head as little globs of information that had feelings, and information and fully formed concepts. Sometimes at night, if I didn’t have questions, ideas would pop into my head for me to think about. For instance, I ‘knew’ whoever it was who loved me didn’t live on this planet. I really wanted to be with them, but knew I couldn’t. I knew they would help me if I needed, and if I asked questions, I would always get an answer. One night it occurred to me to ask why my dad was so mean. The answer to that came to me was so simple, so complete…easy. There was something that had happened to him, there was a sore spot somewhere deep in him, that hurt. He was hurting, just like me. I surmised if I could get in there to that sore spot it would get better – just like the people who loved me, helped me. There was a word for it, and that word was telepathy. I wanted to do that for him. After all I was only six or seven at the time, and I had felt that love and I wanted to love him the same way, because he was my daddy. My dad and I did make our peace, years later, but that is a whole other story.
My next question, right on the heels of that was How could I do that that (?), I knew I just had to learn how. There, right there, at around the age I started school, I decided my life’s path. The places looking for this skill, this answer has led me are the story of my life.
This epiphany made many things in my head click. By the time I was a bit older, I had put together the idea, that these people who loved me didn’t live on this planet. I didn’t call them ‘aliens’ because I didn’t know anything about ‘aliens’ – it was 1959 for heaven’s sake and I was only 6. I just saw them as people. Really nice heart strong people. People I wanted to be like.
They were not the only people I had contact with either. One time when I was in 5th grade, I was sitting outside in the evening just before sun down, I got a wild idea to just see who was there. So I mustered up a great big ‘HELLO!!!” in my mind and sent it flying up as high into the sky as I could. I made it echo, it was so loud. This presence I had never felt before – sort of like a stern professor-ish male, almost military being that I must have caught off guard turned around and looked right at me with this surprised awareness, like ‘who the hell are you, and what do you want!?’ sort of thought. It was so powerful I knew right away I had made a big, BIG mistake. Yikes! I ran inside and hid – like that was going to help…
I learned to read early. I loved reading. In about 4th or 5th grade I found the magazine “Amazing Stories”, and others that had flying saucers in them or on the cover and begged my mom till she relented and bought them for me. I found Adamski, Menger, Van Tassel, Frank Edwards, Grey Barker, John Fuller (The Interrupted Journey) Lobsang Rampa. Rampa led me to Tibetan mysticism, and that led me to a theory of the world, and brotherly love that had bloomed in my heart so young and lo and behold (!) I found it in print. The entire world had opened up for me. (Another long story…)
To come full circle, we as a UFO culture are now realizing that becoming conscious, expanding ourselves and growing our souls IS the point of it – that contact is always in the ‘phenomena frequency’, and contact can be achieved with everything not just interdimensionals or off worlders.
Consciousness IS the Unified Field!
Because consciousness is the Third Physics and nothing exists really, without the noticer. There is a whole wonderful world just chock full of beingnesses that are pining for contact, in every kingdom – plant, mineral animal, energetic… We have a huge classroom right here to begin to learn with. Well, how do we begin?
How about, Just Ask, like I did.
*ok, one last. Not everybody or everything you contact is good or cares, just like in real life. Discern everything and every contact. When I was really young I always knew when adults were lying to me, or messing with me, and I could not help but tell them so – another thing that used to get me a whooping. It took a lot of learning to keep it to myself, but it made me an independent thinker. Anything you are taught or told, research and see how it fits in your life and your reality, realize that the connection points might take absolute years to make sense – especially if you are dense or fearful like me. A truly loving being will not scare you. So even if you think you might want contact, you’ll not get it till your heart of hearts is ready. And then only in a form that you can handle. All the other stuff is bogus and you can tell it Eff-off and it will have to. It took me a while to discover but, There Are Rules.