Alien Memories or Lucid Dreams?

by Brent Raynes

Last year, I received this letter from a man now living in Tennessee. My wife and I, and Sandy Nichols of the Alien Research Group, visited him and found him to seem quite credible and sincere.

“My first conscious experiences were at the age of 9 years old and I am now going on 27. I have been researching this and seeking out answers for 18 years. I’ve gotten past the initial emotional/psychological shock. Now I’m just totally bent on getting to the bottom of this, or as close to it as I can. I’ve done a lot of my own detective work and I’m looking for other people like me who have different kinds of keen insight to add to my tapestry of theories. Just because people’s experiences with the greys starts to dwindle or their presence in our lives starts to fade, or the public’s interest fades, does not make this issue any less important to me. I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to figure out this riddle. But it’s not easy. Most reactions to my search are that I’m crazy, it’s demon related or evil, or just plain old disinterest. Back in 2001, I wrote to Whitley Streiber explaining my situation and that I had read all of his books. He wrote back saying just this: ‘Read my books.’ That’s disinterest!! I wondered if the person replying had even read my letter. And the spiritual lady that I mentioned earlier in this letter gave me the impression that she could care less. I had one lady in 2002 that just plain refused to hypnotize me. So I’ve had the brush a few times. I don’t want you to get the impression that I’m going around acting totally crazy to these people or even getting too intense with them. I always handle my interactions and affairs with other people using the most candid and professional attitudes possible. Even though, that is the case, the cards just have not managed to line up for me on this one.

“I will use this part of my letter to share some of my experiences. I will go back to the beginning. I grew up in rural Wisconsin, in a town called Waukesha. My father built a house while my mother was pregnant with me in 1979. It was a rural setting and isolated. My neighbors were cows and corn fields, which I enjoyed. I spent a lot of time alone as a child in the forest and corn fields around my house. I had good parents, we went to church on Sundays and my father did a good job of providing for us as a computer programmer.

“I was six years old when Communion first hit the shelves of bookstores and news stands. One day, at this time (1986 or 87) my mother took me to Sears with her (the store) to do some shopping. I wandered off on my own as usual and found myself in the book and magazine section. I couldn’t read at the age of six, but I liked to look at the pictures. I was looking at all the books when I saw the face on the cover of Communion. I took the book off the shelf and took it to my mother and told her she had to buy it and read it to me. She was distracted, and brushed me off telling me to just put it back. I refused and pleaded with her teling her I had to know what was inside this book. She thought it was bizarre but finally caved in and said okay. She read it to me and I was too young to comprehend Whitley’s text and content. My mother had no personal interest in the text and thought it was ridiculous to read me this book that I obviously couldn’t understand. So she gave up and threw away the book. And I forgot about it. Three years later, at the age of 9, not much had changed. And I was a normal nine year old who was into soccer and martial arts and drawing. My parents had managed to divorce and remarry the year after my mom read me the book, so when I was seven. So I had been living with my mom and step father in a house that was right in town, for about two years and was in third grade at age 9. This is when I started having my first experiences. The first and most jarring that I can remember happened during the day. My mom and step dad said they had to go out and so some errands that afternoon and I was home alone. I decided to sit on the couch and watch some TV. After awhile I became very tired and retired to my room to take a nap. I went to sleep on my bed for awhile and immediately woke up and realized that I was completely paralyzed and laying flat on my back on the floor, not my bed. And I was also instantly aware of something that was being done to me. This was the most horrifying feeling I think I had ever felt at that age. I went to look with my eyes at who was there and my brain is not capable of remembering what the exact image was, but I couldn’t handle it and some other part of me instantly forced my head straight back all the way in a jerking spasm so that the top of my skull was actually pressed flat against the floor. I screamed and cried violently and hysterically. I wanted to look again but I wouldn’t let myself. This is when I noticed that there was a tall wooden book shelf to the right of my head and all the way at the top of it was a white chest plate statue, like the ones of Mozart or Beethoven that people set on their pianos. That’s when it became too much and I passed out cold. I woke up with what felt like seconds later on the floor in my room, with tears still on my face and immediately ran to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I frantically tore apart the whole house thinking they were still there somewhere. I was hysterical and ready to kill what I had encountered. My mom and step dad walked in at that point and saw me with this big knife and crazy look in my eyes and got very scared. They tried to calm me down and ask me what was wrong and all I could manage to get out was ‘They were here.’ And my mom said, ‘Who are they?” And I couldn’t say anything else but ‘They were here.’

“It took them a long time to clam me down that day and there was talk of putting me in a psychiatric ward, but nothing ever came of it. And we never talked of it again. A few months later, I had the most conscious and amazing encounter I have ever had. I was asleep in my waterbed at about 2 a.m. in my room. I woke up feeling totally normal, nothing was out of the ordinary. I was just really thirsty. I had a night stand with a glass of water on it about 2 feet away from my bed. I reached over to the glass and while I was reaching, I was face down over the edge of my bed. This is when I realized I was literally face to face with a creature with unforgettable large black eyes. His face was literally 10 inches away from mine, starring at me blankly. I was frozen with fear. I couldn’t move, like a deer in headlights. He was laying flat on his back on the floor, nestled right up against my bed. We both just sat there starring at each other for what felt like forever. He didn’t move. I didn’t move. I kept waiting for him to do something but he just kept starring at me. Eventually I regained my composure and slowly rolled back over and pulled the covers over my head, shaking and sweating with fear. I stayed like that till morning came and sunlight peered through my blanket. When I felt it was safe I pulled the covers back and looked around. Everything was normal but I had sweat so much you could’ve wrung my sheets out and filled a bucket. I told my mom about it and she said it was just a dream. I said, ‘But mom, I never went back to sleep. I was awake!!’ She just brushed it off and told me about a dream she had had one night when she woke up and there was a baseball player standing at the foot of her bed.”