Excerpt: Emails from Infinity

Starting at a very young age I was taken from my body while I slept, yet I am not a typical abductee. I wasn’t struck with a beam of white light and levitated into a spaceship. I wasn’t visited by grey-skinned creatures with enormous oval eyes bent on investigating my body with an anal probe. My experience of abduction was different. The process of falling asleep and dreaming opened a doorway―a passage between parallel dimensions.

One of my first memories: lying in my crib in my dark bedroom I became aware of a presence in my closet. This “Something” was peering at me through the gap in the closet doors. Its two eyes blazed, one on top of the other as if its head hung on a broken neck. I was immediately coated in hot sweat. My stomach churned and hardened. Blood throbbed in my temples as alarms in my mind screamed, urging me to get away, but I was unable to move. Its gaze had paralyzed me. The Something in my closet was not alone. A spidery thing appeared on the ceiling directly above my head. It hung in the air, a prickly dark ball, a tangled wad of living hair. As I cowered, eyes bulging from my face, it descended towards me. Stomach acid boiled into my throat. My small hands clutched at my favorite red and white Pinocchio blanket, I couldn’t move.

There was a sensation of knowing but not one of understanding. I knew that this thing was guided by The Something in my closet; it had been sent by The Something. As it came near hair prickled my lips and I was swept away from my room, sucked from the body that lay in my bed. I passed briefly through vast hollow darkness; then I was flying over a flat landscape that stretched endlessly in all directions. I hung upside down and helpless below a dark shape, my head too close to the coarse landscape, any closer, and my face would be erased. I flew at such a speed that my teeth chattered together hard enough to shatter, and my skin felt as if it would be torn off. I thought I might vomit from the pressure.  

It’s hard to describe the horror of a place that has no boundaries, a place that goes on forever. Think for a moment of the worst thing you can conceive of, rape perhaps or torture. I flew ever closer to the embodiment of the most terrible thing I could imagine, something worse than rape or torture, a place of raw emotion. Yet there was something else, something beyond my years. I would come to know this as fear of death. The understanding that we all owe a death and that my own was and continues to stalk me. This flight would become a recurring experience for me for many years.