On the Topic of Alien Abduction
Ever wake up in the night terrified, 100% sure that there’s something in your room and it’s going to get you? You spend the next god knows how long praying that it’ll all just go away and then the next thing you know you’re asleep. Then it’s the morning, and you’re more concerned with getting to work on time then that crazy dream you had last night. No? Maybe that’s just me…
Trouble sleeping. Doesn’t everyone have trouble sleeping? I honestly don’t know, this is the only person I ever remember being so my POV on these things may be a bit skewed. That’s the problem though with life. It’s different for everyone so sometimes it’s hard to tell what the fuck other people are talking about. Some people are completely dumbfounded by my interest in the alien abduction phenomenon, but you know what I don’t get? Soccer.
When I was about ten years old I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of screams coming from my parents bedroom. I jumped up and grabbed the baseball bat that had been resting next to my bed (why was it there, had it always been there?) and ran out of the room. As I turned the corner out of my bedroom and into my parent’s room next door I saw two tall “Grey” aliens emerging from the bedroom closet. I froze. They hadn’t seen me yet and I had the drop of them, I was armed yet terrified so I just stood there. My mother saw me first and yelleded for me to stay back. The two Greys turned and saw me and I could sense that they were surprised. They either asked or commanded me to sit on the edge of the bed in front of them, and as my mom screamed and begged for my life and my dad wrapped his arms around me one of the Greys leaned down in front of me and said that they were about to tell me something very important. So important, in fact, that I would have to forget it for now, but when the time was right I would remember…
The next morning at breakfast no one mentioned a thing. The news segment on the radio morning show we were listening to reported that there had been several UFO sightings in Wisconsin (a neighboring state) the night before. This was back in the early 90’s when UFOs still made the news from time to time. Tension hung in the air as the reporter finished his story, but then it passed and we all just went on with our lives.
So let’s say you wake up in the middle of the night and sense a presence in the room. As your eyes struggle to focus in a low light scenario you begin to see something in the corner of the room. Invaders from Mars or Dimension X? Ghosts? The CIA? Your creepy Uncle Henry? Are you even awake or is this all just a dream? Hell, are any of us really awake or is this ALL just a dream? The problem with most of the alien abduction stories you hear is that they start with people asleep in bed. You wake up in the middle of the night and you think you see The Wolfman in your closet dollars to donuts it was just a bad dream. But instead of a werewolf you see a tall gangly creature with big black eyes and suddenly it must be real and you’re being visited by creatures from another planet.
It also doesn’t help that at press time there still is no unified theory of alien visitation. Extraterrestrial or inter-dimensional? Malevolent or benevolent? You can’t subscribe to one person’s theory without shitting on a couple dozen others, which in turn begs the question maybe their all just shit. They’re all preached by pundits with the same degree of fervor. 200 years ago we would’ve said they were faeries or leprechauns, hell maybe angels. Maybe abductees are the modern day prophets. In which case treat these blog posts as gospels and send Grimerica a tenth of your earnings.
The truth, much like beauty coincidentally enough, is only to be found in the eye of the beholder.
Years later I sat in a motel room with the girl I was dating as we rolled our faces off on XTC. We were both just out of high school and still living at home, so it made sense at the time to rent one of the four hour nap places when experimenting with hallucinogens. It was a quiet, safe, controlled environment with a waterbed and free HBO. This particular room on this particular night was covered in mirrors. It was supposed to be a sex thing but it didn’t take long for it to turn into a drug thing.
As my body ran so hot my brains dripped down my spine and I felt myself vibrating into a state of pure bliss, the events of that night from several years back came rushing back to me. It wasn’t like I forgotten them, it was just like for some bizarre reason I hadn’t thought of them for an entire decade. It was like the floodgates had been open and other stuff started coming back to me too. Missing time, strange conversations with family, synchronicities so profound they transcend any Canadian third party ranking system. I’d like to try and characterize the experience as something downloading to my brain that night in the hotel room, but the fact of the matter is it really wasn’t much of a download because it was already there. It was more like a long forgotten turd in a toilet bowl, slowly bobbing to the surface.
The drugs don’t help my story much, or maybe they do, who knows. In Fire in the Sky pancake syrup made Travis Walton spontaneously remember a whole bunch of shit so I guess MDMA isn’t that far fetched. Hell, my story even makes a bit more sense then his in that light. There’s been several studies that suggest MDMA can be used to treat PTSD and there’s no better way to describe coming face to face with monsters in your parents closet than traumatic and stressful. Still, I’ve always taken the whole experience with a grain of salt. Nothing every matched intensity of that first encounter, and I’ve still never seen an honest to God UFO.
Maybe I’m so reluctant to believe it because I don’t want to believe. As much as I’ve gone on the record that “I want to believe, I want to believe” when you’re looking down the barrel of such a thing it’s easy to change your tune. Ask people on the street if they believe in God. Most will tell you yes. Then tell those same people that God is real and you’ve had conversations with him. They’ll look at you like you’re nuts! Same thing goes with aliens. People say they believe in aliens, they just don’t believe you’ve seen one. We pay lip service to an ideology we don’t fully believe in, even when we see it for ourselves.
For years there was nothing, and then…
At the time I was living with my then girlfriend (different girl, there’s been a few over the years). It was the middle of the night, we were spooning, and I woke suddenly to find a small Grey standing on her side of the bed. I sat up and looked at it, then laid back down and held her until I fell asleep. It was different than the other ones though, were as the Grey’s from my childhood were tall and almost cartoony with their big black eyes, this one was smaller and looked older. Almost like if ET got beat with an ugly stick. Anyway I passed out and the next morning nothing was said. A few weeks later we found out she was pregnant.
Being a dad is already pretty fucking terrifying, and there’s already enough stuff to obsess over day to day, but I catch my son doing little things that make me wonder sometimes. When he wants to sleep with a toy lightsaber in bed next to him or how insists we always close the closet door. Some nights he’ll crawl into bed with us, we’ll just wake up and he’s there. Sometimes I’m awake to catch him sneaking in, but I never say anything. If I’m awake and he’s awake it’s because we’re both having trouble sleeping, and that’s something I can sympathize with.
I know enough about the mythology to know that being an abductee is a generational thing. In a lot of ways the little guy is kind of like my litmus test for the whole experience. I know how fucked up that might sound but anyone with kids will tell you the same thing; being a parent is like holding up one big mirror to your own life. You get to experience the world all over again with a fresh set of eyes. You get to relieve the wonder and amazement of playing in the snow or with a cat for the first time. You also remember what it was like to be afraid of the dark.
It’s the curse of creative people. Give us a blank canvas, a dark room and an empty night sky, and we’ll think up all kinds of crazy shit to fill in the spaces with. Give us the unexplained and we’ll make up an explanation of our own. I don’t know if aliens are real or if they’re good or bad or time travelers or what. What I do know is that more exists than what we spend 95% of our lives obsessing over. Our intelligence is not the only intelligence in existence and somewhere, out there is something different than us. I won’t say greater because I’ve never read their literature or tasted their food.
And what about the thing they told me and made me forget? I still don’t remember what it was. Maybe a few more brushes with MDMA or DMT will do the trick. I’d like to think it was something really profound and important, but I’m also cynical enough not to want to blow smoke up my own ass. Doesn’t everyone want to think they’re important? Isn’t everyone playing the role of John Connor in their own personal version of Terminator 2: Judgement Day? No one wants to feel small and insignificant so maybe we blow these dreams out of proportion to bolster our own egos. At the end of the day though we don’t need to be alien abductees to be important. We don’t need secrets implanted in our subconscious from above to make the world a better place. As far as I know Hemingway wasn’t an abductee, neither was David Cronenberg. But you know who was? Shirley MacLaine and Sammy Haggar.
I rest my case.