High Strangeness: A Lifetime of Alien & Paranormal Encounters

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HIGH STRANGENESS A Lifetime of Alien and Paranormal Encounters By Michael Kameron

Published by FLYING DISK PRESS 4 St Michaels Avenue Pontefract, West Yorkshire England WF8 4QX

Copyright © 2023 by Michael Kameron .All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means (electronics, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book. Names and specific locations, when necessary, have been changed to protect the identity of individuals who are still living at the time of this publication. All stories are based on true events. Cover design is copyright © Jason Gleaves.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo CONTENTS 000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 FOREWORD DEDICATION ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS INTRODUCTION CHAPTER 1: LOCATION IS KEY CHAPTER 2: WHO GOES THERE? CHAPTER 3: INVISIBLE FRIENDS CHAPTER 4: DAYLIGHT DISC CHAPTER 5: TALL, WHITE GREY CHAPTER 6: MAN IN BLACK CHAPTER 7: STRETCHER HIM OUT CHAPTER 8: ANGEL HAIR CHAPTER 9: GREY NIGHT OF TRAUMA CHAPTER 10: UNEXPECTED PASSING 1

oooooooooooooooo00ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo CHAPTER 11: SURVEILLANCE BOOTH CHAPTER 12: WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE CHAPTER 13: COME WITH US CHAPTER 14: CLASSROOM ENCOUNTER CHAPTER 15: CHRISTMAS EVE CHAPTER 16: STEP FORWARD CHAPTER 17: HIDDEN UNDERWATER CITY CHAPTER 18: THE HOODED ONE CHAPTER 19: SPRING-HEELED JACK CHAPTER 20: OUT OF BODY CALLOUT CHAPTER 21: MUM & DAD CHAPTER 22: SPIRITUALAWAKENING CHAPTER 23: THE CAVE CHAPTER 24: THECOMPLEX PTSD OF AN ALIEN ABDUCTEE *** 2

FOREWORD Paul Sinclair

High Strangeness is Michael Kameron's account of interaction with an intelligence outside of anything people would call normal. Many people may have experienced similar encounters, but few would dare to speak about them openly for fear of ridicule, or for fear of what it may evoke. High Strangeness is the story of an ordinary unassuming boy growing up in an ordinary home, the only thing setting Michael’s life apart from his friends are the extra ordinary things that have happened in his life. Michael takes us on a journey, describing growing up in the early 1970s through to present day, where the memories of past events, natural and supernatural still weigh heavy on his mind. It is in parts harrowing and gives an insight into the narrow line between real life and the extraordinary-real. The word abduction and the mere thought of being abducted are alien to any normal person and in the context of normal such an act would be considered a crime. However, when people speak about alien abduction they become the subject of ridicule, due in part to the fact that no one believes you. It is the hardest thing in the world for a person who has never experienced it to imagine that it could be real. But to those that have, it is a mind-bending journey that stays with them for life. High Strangeness also gives us an insight into the history of the area where Michael lived, whether the things that happened in the past have any relevance to the things that happened to Michael we will never 3

know. But it is a rich and rewarding insight into life and all of its problems during the 1970s and beyond. Michael recalls his and his brother Sean’s encounter with a silver UFO and the lifelong interaction with beings from another world. Strange, inhuman beings that never seemed far away, but were so distant that no one except those involved ever knew. In some ways I can see similarities to my own experiences in the 1960s living in the tiny village of Old Denaby, the fact that he went through school never telling anyone about the traumatic experiences. In addition, that he felt he could not tell his parents will strike a chord with anyone who has been in that situation. High Strangeness also covers Michaels visit from the ominous ‘Men in Black’ along with the full spectrum of unexplained phenomena, some of it sounding more demonic than alien related. However, can we distinguish one from the other? The creature under the bed crawling towards him, its red eyes and sharp teeth could only have been designed for one thing: to cause sheer terror in the mind of a young boy. High Strangeness is in places thought provoking, in others sad and lonely. It gives an insight into the stark reality a young boy trying to deal with all of the things in the real world, whilst also dealing with something else that is not supposed to be real; but is. ***

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Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0 0 DEDICATION This book is dedicated to the survivors of childhood alien abduction

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like first to say a huge thank you to my friend Caroline Smith for her relentless support of me throughout this project. You listened without judgement and helped me climb out of what seemed like, at times, states of utter despair. You graciously allowed me to write freely without interruption in what I call my writing room in your home when I needed creative space. Many tears were shed here. You helped push me over the finishing line. (Ready for book 2). I would like to say a big thank you to my friend Pauleen Fothergill for giving me a shelter from life’s storms and allowing me to be a part of her family. We have travelled many long roads together in life and made it through to the other side, stronger and wiser. Thank you for my gift of the beautiful bureau desk where I continued to author this book at night. Thank you to my friend Karen Johnson Taylor, an experiencer of high strangeness who believed in me and stood by me when the ill-intentions of another, sought to cause me harm and for her continuing support along the way. Thank you to my friend Sue Jones who I have shared so many deep conversations with over the years about every conceivable topic both inside and outside high strangeness, for her continuing support and critical thinking mind. Thank you so much to my publisher, the legendary Philip Mantle who gave me the opportunity to be a part of the growing authorship family of Flying Disk Press. You have been extremely patient and supportive as well as offering me lots of advice. Thank you also to Jason Gleaves, author, illustrator and UFO researcher for the amazing artwork in this book and encouragement you gave to me. Thank you also to Paul Sinclair, UFO researcher and author of the Truth Proof series and Night People. Also, thank you for agreeing to provide the foreword for this book and for your friendship.

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‘To Malcolm Robinson for giving your permission to include a piece from your excellent book, The A70 UFO Incident: Scotland’s First ‘Officially Reported’ UFO Abduction. To Steve Mera for allowing me to include your investigative research into the Oz Factor Phenomenon. Thank you to M.J. Wayland for your permission to use the excerpts from your research and support. Thank you to the Kinsella brothers, Philip and Ronald, both UFO researchers and authors for helping with this book, chats and ongoing support and friendship. Thank you, Holly Anne Wood, for your friendship and ongoing support in getting the truth out. Thank you to Mark Olly, author and researcher, for your support, advice, and friendship. I would like to mention and say thank you to Michelle Rawson, for your friendship and support of this book. Thank you to Glenn Rawson, for your friendship and continuing support and chats. To Deborah Singleton, experiencer and author, for our friendship, banter and support. To Lisa Walker, experiencer, for your friendship and continuing support. To my friend Tony Barker, for our long chats and laughter. I have attempted several times to contact Nick Redfern who is a British full-time author and journalist and have been unable to do so. I just wanted to say thank you to him. Thank you to my friend Vanessa Cole, experiencer and author for supporting me and also for our chats.

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Thank you to the amazing author, investigative researcher Jenny Randles for giving me permission to include a piece from her own records related to the Oz factor. I would like to thank Freyr the Viking cat, for guarding my journals through the winter. For stealing my pens when needing a break and his companionship at night time.

***

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INTRODUCTION Human law states that the action of abduction is the illegal carrying off or away of a person, especially a child from their parents or family. Abduction is derived from the Latin, abductionem, to take away. I knew one day I would author a book about my childhood experiences but did not know when. Over the years I attempted to do so, only to discover it was not the correct time. I was at the time afraid of being ridiculed, because back then the window of awareness of high strange cases such as mine would have been branded the words of a madman. The book focuses primarily on the events surrounding my early years and as a teenager, these events occurred at my childhood home in the East End of London during the 1970’s and 1980’s. Looking back over the years, it feels like I had been thrown headfirst into an alternate reality of high strangeness. I had been walking a fine line between this and other worlds, dipping in and out of these two lives, but they were intertwined in a tight knot. My life in this world is just as much a mystery as my secret one. I have been attempting to untie the knot to re-discover the complexity of who I am, and more importantly, why, like so many others, I had been abducted as an infant, a child, a teenager, and an adult. Loosening the cord did not offer me the answers that I sought, but instead I found myself at the bottom of the rabbit hole. It would appear those responsible for the removal of specific children and adults do not wish us to remember how to put our individual pieces of the puzzle together, so we are able to see the bigger picture and where we fit in to all of this. It has been a rollercoaster ride comprising lows and highs on the emotional and psychological highway of being human and an abductee. I reached inside and pulled out the good, bad and ugly, as well as the memories associated with these experiences that have been so difficult to process.

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Authoring this book was quite a monumental moment and scary as hell, because I am finally beginning to open my heart and mind to a wider audience of people. This book is my first, but, by no means last. The second book will venture further down the inter-dimensional rabbit hole of high strangeness. The words I write are a true account of the memories from my childhood. I now hand over the narrative to you, the reader, and allow each person to experience it. I stand by every word written here. ***

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CHAPTER 1: LOCATION IS KEY I grew up in a schoolhouse that was in the grounds of English Martyrs R.C. primary school. The Roman Catholic Church owned my childhood home. In 1864, Cardinal Wiseman authorised the missionary ablates of My Immaculate Mary to set up a mission at Tower Hill founded by Father Robert Cooke. A temporary iron building was erected at the back of the present site, acting as both church and school; it was blessed by Archbishop Manning on the 12th of December 1866. In 1870-72 it was replaced by a new school building with a Chapel on the top floor. It was designed by Edward Welby Pugin and was completed after his death by his younger brothers. The church and the school were originally set up to serve the expanding Irish East End and the Docks. The school was moved to Chamber Street, where four resolute women helped the poor, which later led to tutoring the children and adults. The children were educated during the day, whilst the adults were taught at night. In 1870 the Holy Trinity Sisters arrived and continued to work with both the children and the adults before it came compulsory for all. In the same year, the Tower Hill foundation stone was laid by Princess Marguerite of Orleans in the presence of the Duke of Norfolk, Count Denbigh Earl of Granard and the Marchioness of Londonderry. The School, English Martyrs, was acquired by Father O’Boyle in St Mark Street, London E1 in 1969. This had been in the centenary year of the parish and was opened and blessed on the 20th of June 1970 by his Eminence John Heanan one hundred years to this day when the foundation stone of the old school was laid. The North-side of Chamber Street originally included buildings of the old infirmary, then based in the adjacent Prescott Street until 1775, when it was moved to Whitechapel Road and became the London Hospital, now the Royal London Hospital where I was born. The Hospital’s most famous resident had been Joseph Carey Merrick, otherwise known as the Elephant Man. He developed a greyish, lumpy skin which had been attributed to his mother being startled by a stampeding elephant during her pregnancy, and this is what Merrick believed throughout his life.

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He was born on 5th of August 1862 in Leicester, England and died April 11th, 1890, at the age 27 in London, England at the London Hospital which had been his home. He died from a broken vertebra. Later the Surgeon Fredrick Treves, who had helped him, had plaster casts made of his body and preserved his skeleton which still to this day kept on permanent display in the collections at the Royal London Hospital. My dad, Frank, was the original Caretaker at the old Tower Hill school, and the school keeper at the newly built English Martyrs RC School for junior girls and boys. I have three brothers, Francis who prefers to be called Frank, is the eldest and then Kevin and Sean. Francis and Kevin attended the Tower Hill School in Chamber Street, whilst Sean and I went to the new School in St. Mark Street. The school was designed in a “Hen and Chicken” layout or Cluster plan. This was typical for the time. It had two blocks of classrooms arranged around a central, double-height assembly hall. The school was created to accommodate 250 children in seven classrooms. From an entrance at St Mark Street, a lobby links the hall to the north with a two-storey block of junior school classrooms and a Library and Staff Officers to the south. To the west lies a single-storey block of infant classrooms. A caretaker’s house (my childhood home) was placed south-east corner of the site. A nursery was added in 1978 at the northern edge of the site.

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A house of Minoresses (from where the street name ‘Minories’ derives) was set up in Aldgate in 1293, by Edward 1stbrother Edmond, Duke of Lancaster, and his French wife Blanche of Navarre. The King granted them freedom from taxation and tithes after Edmond died in 1296. Many significant medieval figures, particularly women, were buried within the walls of the convent, including, in 1360, Elizabeth de Burgh, Countess of Clare and founder of Clare College Cambridge in 1360, and Anne Mowbray, Duchess of York and wife of the younger Prince who was murdered in the Tower of London in 1481. The convent ran a farm in the area. The first recorded tenant being one Trollope, who sold it to Roland Goodman, giving the area its name ‘Goodman’s Fields’. In 1737, there was a shootout in Goodman’s Field’s involving the highwayman Dick Turpin and “Captain” Tom King. Turpin had recklessly stolen a Mr. Major’s horse in Epping, renaming him “Black Bess” and holding him in stables at the Red Lion Inn in Whitechapel. Constables tracked down the horse, and when King came to collect it, with Turpin waiting nearby, a gun battle ensued. In the confusion, Turpin shot King, who, as he lay dying, revealed the location of their hideout. Turpin escaped but was hanged two years later in York for stealing a sheep. By the mid-19thcentury, houses had been built around the edge of Tenter Ground (an area used for drying manufactured cloth) of Goodman’s Field’s. It became a poor and populous district, and a decision was made to create a new parish, St. Mark.

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I would like to thank best-selling author and investigative researcher Paul Sinclair for the phrase he coined which I chose for this chapter title. Paul is well known for piecing together the high strangeness link between a location and the abductee, experiencer, person or observer. ***

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CHAPTER 2: WHO GOES THERE? I learned much later that my grandmother on Mum’s side had not long passed into spirit after I was born, it would appear she was leaving the earth as I was arriving. Dad told me that she was fond of sitting in the brown oak rocking chair in the corner of the dining room, rocking herself to sleep. During the night, when everyone had gone up to bed, my parents were often awakened by the familiar sound of the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair. Objects would move around the house and cold spots could be felt in various areas of the house. The narrative continued with strange tales about how a heavy oak wardrobe had toppled over onto the bed Frances was sleeping in, but luckily he had not been hurt. Kevin had also been accosted by this invisible presence when walking up the stairs to his room, when he was suddenly pushed down the stairs and, like Frances, had not been hurt, only shaken. The sound of the rocking chair ceased for a short while and was replaced by a strange banging sound emanating from downstairs.Infact, Mum and dad thought someone, or something, was banging on the wall at the foot of the stairs. This was no ordinary sound, because the walls were solid and if hit with a fist would, at best, produce a dull thud. But this banging echoed. This unearthly sound continued to torment the household for some time and was so loud. On one occasion when dad had got up to investigate the source of the banging, he stood at the top of the stairs and flicked the light switch down causing both the lights above and below to come on. He shouted down the stairs, “Who goes there?” The banging suddenly stopped, and the house fell silent, eerily silent. He started down the stairs with only his wits as a weapon, in the event that an intruder jumped out and attacked him, at least he would be prepared. Dad stood now in the downstairs hallway, pausing before cautiously walking toward the living room door. He pushed the door open; making sure it opened all the way back to the wall in case someone was hiding there. He reached for the light switch and pushed it down so that he could see if anyone was in the room, but it was empty. 15

He crept across the hallway and could see that the chain was still pulled across the front door. He checked the downstairs toilet, which was an exceedingly tiny room, consisting of a small, white sink, with a mirror above fitted to the wall and a toilet bowl. Built into the wall, was an awning window that, when open, would allow a small child or slim adult to squeeze through. Behind the door was a coat rack. Clearly there was no one here. Dad was now left with only one room to investigate, and he stood for a moment listening for any sudden movement coming from behind the half open door, at first he could not hear anything, but then a sound emanated from within the room, a sound all too familiar, it was the sound of the rocking chair. Dad reached his hand around the door searching for the light switch and with one flick the room was ablaze with light. He flung back the door ready to confront whoever was sitting in the rocking chair, but, to his surprise the brown, oak chair was empty, and yet it was still moving of its own accord. It suddenly came to a halt, as though someone he could not see had jumped up from the chair and walked away. Dad made his way across to the kitchen to check if anyone was hiding there, but it was empty. After turning off the downstairs lights, he made his way back up the stairs to bed. For a while he lay awake unable to sleep, but eventually he did. One night dad was awoken by the same banging sound and enough was enough. The mental torment he had endured and the lack of sleep pushed him to the brink of anger. He threw off the bed clothes and pushed himself up out of bed, he walked into the hall and stood at the top of the landing shouting down the stairs, “Shut the fuck up”. For a few seconds, the banging stopped, and then one final defiant bang rang out and then only silence remained. After all that had transpired in the household over the course of several months, it was time to take bold action and confront the problem headon. My parents were Roman Catholics and decided to consult the church. Dad knew a lot of priests and asked one to bless the house. A short while after the priest had walked through the house blessing it; the atmosphere within it became tranquil. What had been the cause of this Poltergeist outbreak? Over the years I have thought about this, and what came to mind was that it may have been created by the passing of my grandmother, but could it be possible 16

that the paranormal disturbances were linked to me in some manner and, if indeed this were true, in what way? What I find interesting is how logic oversteps intuition, in that when confronted with aspects of the paranormal, we tend to do what dad did, and dismiss this gut feeling and check the house for physical human intruders, knowing deep down that something else is creating this sound. My parents took an awful long time approaching the church for help, because they belonged to a close-knit, Irish community and did not want the locals to talk about them.

***

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CHAPTER 3: INVISIBLE FRIENDS When I was four years old, I had friends who would come to my house and play games with me. We had long chats, but sadly, with the passing of time I am unable to recall what those conversations were about, and although, throughout my life I have had marker memories, I tend to recall much more of the visual stimulus than the audio. On one occasion, when chatting to two of my friends in my bedroom, I heard Mum’s footsteps climbing the stairs and as she reached the top of the steps, I could hear creaking floorboards as her weight shifted from one foot to the other, whilst trying to listen from the opposite side of the bedroom door to my conversation with my friends. The handle of the door slowly started to move downwards and, as it opened, I turned my head away from my friends to see my mum standing in the doorway with an odd expression on her face. She smiled at me and asked who I was talking to, I replied, “My two friends”. As I turned my head back in their direction they were no longer here. They had simply vanished into thin air. I could not understand where they had gone. After all, there was only one way out other than the door, and this was out of the windows, and both were closed. Mum said, “I am sure they will return”, and with that she closed the door behind her and went back downstairs to leave me to play with what she considered to be my ‘imaginary friends’. What I did not tell her was that my playmates were not children, but adults. My friends visited me both during the day and at night to communicate with me and play games; one such game was follow the leader. The adults looked similar in appearance, in that their hair was long and blonde and eyes were piercing blue, almost sapphire in colour. They gave me the impression that they were looking into my soul. They had high cheekbones with slender noses and finely defined mouths, yet at no time do I recall them using their mouths to speak with me. I simply heard the words in my mind. The bodies of both the male and female were athletic and very striking to look upon. They both wore tight-fitting, light blue outfits which hugged the body like a second skin. They seemed to come and go until finally they just stopped visiting. I did not give it much thought at the time and continued being a child.

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One scorching summer whilst playing alone with two ‘Matchbox’ toy cars on the floor in the dining room, I had the sudden urge to stop playing with my toy cars and make my way upstairs to my parent’s room. At the time, Mum was pottering about in the kitchen and did not notice me getting up and leaving the room. As I approached the staircase, I took hold of the brown, wooden banister with my left hand and walked up the stairs, stopping momentarily at the single bay window to bathe in the magnificent sunlight shining in through the glass. The sun felt warm as it fell across my face, reassuring me for what lay ahead. Continuing up the steps I finally reached my parent’s room which was the first door in a straight line from the stairs. I walked into the room and my face was once again basked in the rays of the sun pouring in through the white framed windows. A feeling began to rise within me, that someone was coming to meet me, and I must wait for their arrival. I did not have to wait too long, because one of my friends suddenly appeared in front of me. I looked up at him as he gazed down at me smiling. He was wearing the same tight-fitting uniform as before. The outfit looked as though it had just been removed from its packaging. Time stood still that day as I looked into his eyes, it felt like the walls had fallen away, and all external sounds no longer existed outside of the room. His mind was communicating with mine. I later learned this phenomenon was called the ‘Oz Factor’. His eyes held me in a trance like state and I can recall nodding my head as his words vibrated inside my head. Much later in my life, I felt that this being had not been addressing the outer visible me, but, instead, an unidentified aspect of me he knew on another level, and this part of me had been transferring data to him. Suddenly I was jolted out from wherever I had been, and for a moment I was disorientated, confused and shaking. What had happened and where did I go? Is it possible I did not leave, but instead my consciousness passed through a portal which co-existed with my environment in a higher frequency? As soon as I became aware of my immediate surroundings I was struck by fear, and I ran as fast as I could down the stairs, almost tripping over myself to flee the room. My heart was now pounding as adrenalin pumped through my body causing me to breathe hard as I hurried back to the safety of the kitchen, where mum was busy preparing lunch. 19

She looked up at me and stopped what she was doing, and like so many other times asked what had happened? I was unable to respond and simply said that I did not know. I returned to the dining room and continued playing with my cars and the close encounter faded into the back of my mind. This type of contact with these beings continued for a while, and it was later in my life I learned my invisible friends resembled the tall, blonde Nordic race associated with classical ufology.

I remember that one time; I walked up the stairs to my brother’s room, which was on the right-hand side of my parent’s bedroom and opposite an airing cupboard. The bedroom door was slightly open, so I pushed up against it, creating a wider gap for me to peek through into the secret world behind the door. Directly in my line of vision was a white chest of drawers, with a mirror on the top, which was tilted in such a way that it allowed me to see the tall Nordic standing behind the door, looking in my direction and smiling until he vanished (they did this a lot). I can recall many encounters with the Nordics that left me experiencing trauma, but I have no memory why this would be so. A far as the term ‘Oz Factor’ goes, Jenny Randles first coined the phrase in 1983 after investigating one of her first cases.

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The case involved a security officer on night shift, who had a close encounter with a strange object. There had been a second security officer on site that night, and although he had been near the object, he did not see it. Jenny came to the conclusion that perhaps those who experienced close encounters fell within a specific zone of high strangeness, and those who stood outside of it were excluded and were unable to see the phenomenon. She said that people, who had a close encounter, began to experience certain symptoms, but these were not shared by those who had not. Eyewitnesses told her that they felt a strange, mental tingling before something happened, whilst other people claimed they would only have to look up towards the sky and the phenomenon would appear, as though it had called to them telepathically. Time would disappear and lose all meaning. Jenny went on to say that all ambient sounds faded away, including bird songs and the wind blowing through the trees. She observed that it seemed as if eyewitnesses were singled out and placed in a bubble, and this is the reason she used the term ‘Oz Factor’, because these people were describing being taken out of this reality and transported mentally into another dimension, where seemingly magical events happened, like the Land of Oz. Jenny said that having a close encounter had an almost visionary aspect to it, one that was not emanating from the imagination, but one that brought the phenomenon and the eyewitness together. Jenny is a British author and former director of investigations with the British UFO Research Association (BUFORA). She served in this role between 1982 and1984 and was the editor of the Northern UFO News from 1974 through to 2001. I also spoke with Stephen Mera, who is a veteran UFO investigator and Parapsychologist. Steve is also the CEO of Phenomena Magazine. He told me, and I quote: “The Oz Factor is also recorded in both paranormal and cryptic encounters, most of which are prior to the sighting of these things within the UFO topic. We can now confirm that some craft generate infrasonic sounds that we are unable to hear, but insects can and react as though it is a predator. We are assuming that in high strangeness encounters, a frequency of19Hz is generated and this is classified as the ‘fear frequency’ and causing heightened emotional responses. 21

This may also appear when cattle and other animals are being mutilated, thus causing a large amount of the hormones adrenalin and cortisol to be released into the soft tissue areas and flood the blood system. I would like to thank Stephen for his advice on this book.

***

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CHAPTER 4: DAYLIGHT DISC In 1972, when the school had closed for the summer holiday, Sean and I decided to go to a nearby plot of land, which was closeto the house, for a kick about with the football. I was never keen on playing football, but Sean was exceptionally talented at this sport, as were Francis and Kevin. Later in life I took an interest in Kendo, a modern martial art descended from Kenjitsu, and fencing. My dad taught football to countless children that had passed through the school over the years and functioned as the official coach. The kids loved him, because he was not just an ordinary school groundkeeper, but so much more, sadly as is often the case, this reverence was not shared by his sons. It was easier to give his time and attention to children who were separate from the mental and emotional entanglements of his own family life. Sean and I practised passing the ball to each other for a short time, until he suggested taking a walk around the school grounds.We ran down the grassy slope heading in the direction of the school hall. The assembly hall was overlooked by tall buildings, consisting of a mixture of offices, clothing factories and several types of warehouses. Many of these were owned by members of the Jewish community. In fact, in March 1846, on the site of my childhood home, a foundation stone for a new premises was laid at St Mark Street near Goodman’s Field’s for the Jewish Orphan Asylum. The buildings were located on North Tenter and West Tenter Streets, as well as running along St. Mark Street. In Scarborough Street were prefabricated houses, (also known as prefabs) which were temporary dwellings built to re-house those who had lost their homes during the Blitz of WWII. Service members coming home from the war and their young families were chosen for the scheme. More than 156,000 prefabs were erected between 1946 and 1947. It was under Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who, in 1942, put forward a proposal to produce a plan that would address the looming housing crises. During the 1940’s, the area around my childhood home was hit by a huge bomb that destroyed most of this area of London. As we turned the corner heading toward our destination, we walked past a few classrooms, and directly in front of us were two raised stone platforms that had a staircase leading from one to the other. 23

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Just off to the side were two large, circular, concrete flowerpots and two black, metal light pods that were switched on using a key. This was always a nice feature during the night-time. Sean had been standing on the higher platform looking up at the sky, which had been partly clear with a few white clouds. I was crouched down on the ground watching red fire-ants scuttling about on the ground. Sean spotted something in the sky prompting him to shout across to alert me. My gaze followed in the direction of his pointed finger and I observed a strange-looking saucer-shaped metal object, moving in our direction. I looked over at Sean who was still staring at the sky, frozen to the spot; he looked lost in his own world, until the sound of my frightened voice calling out his name, “Sean, Sean”, broke the force responsible for holding him in this trance-like state. We both stood in silence, until I was overcome with an urgency to flee, with Sean not far behind me.

(This is the location of the sighting of the silver flying saucer) 24

We headed towards the backdoor of our house, simultaneously scanning the sky for this silver flying saucer. Both of us charged through the kitchen door into the central hub of the house like wild horses. Mum and Dad were seated at the small table drinking tea and eating crusty, white, buttered bread rolls. These were dads favourite, which he often bought on a Saturday morning from Sainsbury’s in Commercial Street. Mum and dad were somewhat startled by our unexpected entrance which prompted dad to scold us for frightening our mother. “What’s the hurry? “hesaid. Sean spoke first and told him what we had witnessed. Sean said that a silver saucer came down from the sky and then disappeared. Both our parents looked at each other without saying a word, until dad broke the silence and said that it was ok and to go and play on the green, but to stay close to the house where he could see us. We had never consciously seen an object like this before. How could an object this size not be witnessed by anyone else in broad daylight over London, on a busy working day? I do not recall either one of us speaking about what we witnessed on that fateful day and we put it to the back of our minds. Looking back now at this part of my childhood and examining it further, I am certain we were abducted by the occupants of this craft. I wonder if Sean had been telepathically influenced to lead us to this area of the school grounds where we encountered the flying saucer? Had the craft been above us in the sky when we were playing football on the grass outside of the schoolhouse, one can only wonder?

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Something happened on that craft that changed both of us. When I looked at Sean after the craft had departed, we both stood in a cocoon of silence; it felt as though we had shared an experience that was both secret and profound. Much later, I learned our parents had spoken about this and when I was older mum asked if I remembered this event, I replied, “How could I ever forget?” Whilst preparing this narrative, I asked Sean if he could recall this encounter pertaining to the saucer from our childhood and he said he could. I could not help wondering if, over the years, he had re-visited this memory and did not believe it had taken place until many years later, when he was asked the question by the only person who could ask him, his younger brother who was with him on that day. ***

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CHAPTER 5: TALL WHITE GREY When I was a child, the school grounds were surrounded by dark green wire fencing and matching gates, as well as a large expanse of grass that covered a good part of the grounds. This was normally rich and green but, during the summer months when it had been exceptionally hot, the grass would burn and lose its natural colour rendering it yellowy, brown. I loved the variety of trees, including English Oak and Cedar, which grew within the grounds of the school. Do you remember the helicopter seeds, they were so much fun to throw up into the air and watch as they spun back to the earth. During the autumn and winter months when the leaves had fallen, the trees looked hauntingly beautiful at night, especially when the moon was in view and the branches cast shadows on the ground. When winter gave way to spring and summer, the branches flourished with vibrant leaves. There was a steep, grassy hill that overlooked the main school building, where I would often lay on the grass, whilst looking up at the clear, blue sky with white, candy floss clouds floating over my head. It was a joy to lie down on the grass and feel the warmth of the sun on my face and the heat rising from the ground beneath me. The environment around me, just beyond the boundaries of the school, was always bustling with people absorbed in their work. A common sound in my road were police cars tearing up the road with lights and sirens (blues and twos) blaring at the back of Lemon Street Police Station, which was opposite my childhood house and the school. Birds could be heard chirping in the trees and bushes, and the sound of aircraft filled the sky over London. I particularly loved catching sight of a British Airways Concord flying over making for Heathrow Airport. Sometimes I would pick a cloud out and focus my eyes on it and with my mind, attempt to change its shape. There was an outside toilet block for the children that sat beside a large playground, and a smaller one for the infant children. This play area led to the infant’s classrooms, music room and through to a large assembly hall. On the left of the doors, inside the hall, was an enclave where dark, grey, plastic chairs were stored. A red curtain pulled across when the chairs were not being used. 27

Running alongside the white wall, was the school kitchen, which had white shutters on the front. The walls on each side of the hall had brown, wooden, gymnastic equipment that was rolled out by pulling a lever down to wheel it out. This was then secured in place by a single, metal bolt in the floor. Not long after the sighting of the saucer, Sean and I ventured into the main school building to play hide and seek in the corridors. It was still the summer holidays and the cleaners, along with dad, had come in early to clean parts of the school while the pupils were away, but it was later in the afternoon now and the cleaners had gone home, allowing dad to take a break at the house. The corridor walls were covered in paintings that the children had created, the toilets were there as well. Further along the corridor, on the left-hand side, could be found the school library, which was only small, but good enough for the needs of the children. Opposite was the secretary’s office, where dad could often be found writing at the desk, otherwise he was normally in the boiler room at the rear of the car park, which functioned as his office. There was also a small hatch that opened from inside the secretary’s office, but had never been used, but it was cool though, not sure why? Was I a cat in a previous life?

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The school was empty now and silent, apart from the occasional sound of laughter from us boys as it echoed in the corridor, whilst sunlight poured in through the skylight above our heads. Sean closed his eyes and counted to ten whilst I hid in a tiny space in an opening at the side of the boy’s toilet and waited for him to find me. I could hear him counting and when his voice reached five, I could no longer hear him and I waited for a bit before calling out, but he did not respond, so I came out from my hiding place, half expecting him to have tricked me and then jump out to surprise me. Sean was standing motionless, close to the hatch, looking across, through the glass of the brown, wooden swing doors into the hall. I asked him what was wrong. His voice trembled as he spoke as though he was in shock. He said, “What is it?” I walked over and followed his gaze and my eyes widened and my heartbeat faster as fear swept over me at what I saw. I wanted to run, to escape, but could not move as I was rooted to the spot, as if shackled by invisible chains. Standing in the hall, beside the piano, stood a strange-looking grey creature, who was staring straight back at us. It was about seven foot tall and had a large head with two enormous black eyes wrapped around its face and a long neck attached to a spindly body, with exceptionally long, thin arms and legs. The grey creature was just standing there watching us, until it vanished and just like before when we sighted the flying disc, we entered a trancelike state, and somewhere in between the stillness we had lost time, a piece of our life was missing. 29

Terror now swept over us, like someone had snapped their fingers and returned us to our timeline. We ran from the corridor that, only a short time previously, had been a place of fun and laughter for two young boys. Our innocence had been shattered like a mirror and all that remained were the shards of glass on the floor. We slammed into the two brown swing doors that led to a grey, tiled staircase. We were about to run down the steps when the door at the bottom of the stairs suddenly opened and in walked Dad. He walked up the stairs and met us at the top. Sean shouted out “Dad, dad, something is in the school hall, and it is not human”. Dad looked at us, not sure how to respond and he appeared to be searching for any signs that we were playing games with him, but he could see we were deadly serious and told us to wait where we were until he returned. We watched him hurry toward the hall and disappear through the doors. About twenty minutes later, returned, and sadly he could not find anyone. He told us not to worry, everything was ok and to go back to the house.

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It was Sean’s birthday and Dad decided to take us boys to the cinema to see Stephen Spielberg’s sci-fi blockbuster ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’, which premiered on November 16th, 1977. The title is derived from ufologist Dr. Josef Allen Hynek’s classification system of encounters with alien beings, this ranged from one to four, although more have since been added to this. Where one is a light in the sky, and four is a face-to-face encounter with an ET. There is a scene at the end of the film where the alien leader of the small aliens is observed coming out from the huge ship after it lands behind Devils Tower, in a secret, makeshift military base. The leader was depicted as being tall with a long neck and a spindly body with long, skinny arms. Apart from the head and eyes, this image was a close resemblance to what Sean and I had witnessed in the school hall. I must point out, we had never been exposed to any images like this before, and so there was nothing that would have influenced what we observed in the school hall. I wonder why my dad wanted us to see this film. The TV in our household only had three channels and as kids we did not have access to it unless our parents were in the room with us. I can remember Sean and I often functioned as the remote control for mum and dad’s choice of channels. After the film had finished, we walked back over Tower Bridge, chatting about the film. I asked dad if he enjoyed the film and he said he did not understand what it was about, which I thought was strange. After we grew up, I lost contact with Sean and did not see him for over a decade, but got his mobile number from a relative, whom I met at a funeral, after a long-lost relative had passed into spirit. I decided to text him before speaking on the phone. If the truth be known, after a little small talk, I approached the subject of our strange childhood encounter. I was not sure how to bring the subject up, because we have never been close, so I took the bull by the horns, so to speak, and asked him the question, “Sean, do you remember when we were children and played hide and seek in the main school corridor and we saw that strange creature, standing in front of the piano in the school hall? “I paused for a brief moment, to allow him to digest my words, before I continued, “Kevin told me he recalled this being spoken about by mum and dad”. Sean may have thought about this memory and wondered if it had really happened, or did he believe he had imagined it? 31

From his reaction it would appear he had come to this conclusion. If indeed this were the case, we would have shared the same illusion. I don’t think there was ever a time that I disclosed what was happening in my life to any of the other kids or teachers at school. I guess for a while I thought it was normal, because my parents never seemed to react to it in the way you would think they would. It is quite clear to me now, that Sean and I suffered from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and at the time this had not been obvious to others but would certainly have been affecting us on other levels of consciousness. I have often wondered if this phenomenon destroyed my relationship with my brother Sean, because on some level, he associated it with me. ***

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CHAPTER 6: MAN IN BLACK One autumn evening, my parents decided that they would lay new floor tiles for the garage, that dad had bought a while ago at the local DIY store, as the current tiles were beginning to break apart. Mum said she needed to wash up first, so I asked if I could do it, because back then I was domesticated and loved neatness and order. Sean asked if he could go out into the garage with them and watch. Mum and Sean went outside to the garage, which was adjacent to the house and waited for dad to unlock the garage door and lift it up, as it was an up-and-over door, and, at times, could be difficult to open. Dad was wearing a light blue jumper, white shirt with a yellowy-blue tie and brown trousers. He removed the key off the hook and told me to lock the kitchen door behind him. After he left, I did as he told me and turned the key clockwise locking the door. The house was empty now as Francis and Kevin were out doing their own things. The kitchen seemed much bigger when I was a child, and over the years dad had renovated it, which involved knocking through to the back wall by removing two built-in storage cupboards, which allowed mum to have more space to work. I took a chair from under the yellow-topped table and placed the back of it up against the aluminium sink, as I was still too small to reach the taps. I unwound the plug wrapped around the cold tap and placed it in the plughole, allowing me to fill the sink with warm water. I picked up the white, plastic Fairy Liquid bottle and squirted a tiny drop of green fluid into the water then filled the basin with cups, a few plates and cutlery leaving them to soak in the soapy water. Mum, Dad and Sean had only been in the garage a brief time when something caught my eye, it was a sudden movement from the adjacent room. At one time, there had been a door there, but Dad removed it and left it open. Shivers ran up and down my spine causing me to shudder and freeze, I was still holding a white, china cup under the warm water. I did not dare move my body, instead, using my peripheral vision, I looked again in the direction of the other room and I could clearly see a strange-looking man, dressed in a black suit, white shirt with a black tie and black hat, he had shiny black shoes on his feet. But apart from this description, the most eerie element was his dark glasses. The man, if indeed this is what he was, had pale skin and he was physically present 33

and not a ghost. He was just standing there looking at me, never uttering a word. I knew he could sense my fear, like a dog or wild animal can smell fear. My heart and mind were racing at the sight of this odd-looking man, who I sensed had come to harm me in some manner, but why, I did not know. It felt like he knew what I was thinking. I took my eyes from him only for a few seconds, and when I looked again he was no longer there. Where did he go? Did he simply vanish or just walk into the hallway? I waited a few seconds to muster enough courage to move from the chair and make my getaway. I quickly dashed across to the back door dad had earlier told me to lock, by this time my hands were shaking and at first, I struggled to turn the key to unlock the kitchen door. I was faced with an unknown terror that attacked my mind and subdued my body. I was not certain if the strange, pale-faced man was still in the house or had gone. At last, I managed to control my fear just enough to open the door by pulling the silver handle down toward me, at the same time, glancing over my shoulder to see if the man in black was indeed still around. I shot out from the door like lightning, a few steps and I was standing in front of the garage, a glimmer of light escaped from a tiny crack under the door. This light was so reassuring to a young boy who was fleeing in the cold, autumn night from the clutches of this strange figure. I was breathing hard at this point and could see my breath in the chilly air. Bang, bang, bang, I thumped on the door shattering the silence of the night. After a few seconds, the garage door opened from the bottom, and a larger beam of light spilled out as it rose slowly, stopping halfway. Dad stepped out from beneath the door and asked what was wrong. I replied that there was someone in the house, He told me to wait with Mum and Sean until he told us any different. I watched as he armed himself with something hefty from behind one of the two steel dustbins that stood next to the side of the garage wall, in case he came face-to-face with the mysterious intruder. At that moment Francis returned from his night out and Dad called out to him to follow him back into the house. Francis was never one to run from danger and was always ready for anything, yet I wonder if he and Dad were prepared to go where the angels fear to tread? They searched the whole house, checking if windows had been broken, but none had and the front door was still bolted. 34

Dad wondered if the man had escaped through the kitchen door into the night after I had run out, but I would have seen him from where I stood. This of course was possible at the time, but knowing what I do now, unlikely. Dad returned to the garage to give us the all-clear, which was certainly a relief. I watched as Dad laid the final tile into place on the floor. Mum gave me a hug before taking us boys back into the warm house, whilst Dad turned off the light, pulled down the stiff door and locked it before turning in for the night.

It was not until many years later that I learned the strange figure who visited me was a Man in Black or MIB. Normally there are two together and are collectively known as the Men in Black. Is it possible that the one I encountered was accompanied by another? 35

The British best-selling author, journalist, cryptozoologist, and ufologist Nick Redfern, authored a book about the MIB counterpart ‘Women in Black’, who have been witnessed by many who have had experiences with lights in the sky and interactions with non-humans and, just like the male version, are equally sinister in their methods and cause the targeted person to feel concerned about their wellbeing. According to WIKIPEDIA, in 1967, the American journalist, parapsychologist and influential ufologist, the late John Keel, popularised the term “Man in Black,” in an article entitled ‘UFO Agents of Terror’, which he wrote for the men's adventure magazine ‘Saga’. He is best known as the author of the ‘Mothman Prophecies’. Keel described these beings as sinister and threatening to both eyewitnesses and ufologists. I believe the MIB came to me that night to check me out, after I had that encounter with the flying saucer and the tall grey in the school hall. I am not aware if Sean ever had any encounters with the MIB. The reason I mention this is because he was with me both times. It would not be the last time I encountered the infamous Men in Black. I never wanted to go to bed at night, because I was always curious about what my parents were doing. Sean and I shared a bedroom because we only had a few rooms and although our room was small, it was not a box room. The room had a built-in double cupboard consisting of two shelves that were piled up with neatly folded bedding and curtains, and over time it became filled with various bits and bobs, as well as a 12-gauge shotgun. I often hid in this cupboard, peering through the space where the doors joined and sometimes, I heard unfamiliar sounds in the room that prompted me to silently, or as silently as I could, shift back into the far corner and conceal myself beneath a light blue blanket, so that whoever those voices belonged to would not discover me. There was a mahogany wardrobe at the rear of the bedroom running along the back of the wall and at the foot of the double bed. On the opposite side of the room were white, wooden-framed windows, which opened at both ends by means of silver-coloured window catches. Across from them was a wooden, chestnut cabinet with a fitted mirror and four drawers, which stood up against the wall on the right of the room beside the bedroom door that had been coated in orange gloss paint. 36

At night, the bedroom door was left slightly open, to allow the landing light to shine into our room to afford us two boys protection from the monsters that may be lurking in the corners of the bedroom, or inside the wardrobe, biding their time to snatch us away into the night. The light in some ways was my magical shield that forced the monsters to return to the place where they came from. I never liked this bedroom; in fact, my childhood home had an aura of darkness surrounding it. Every night I checked under the bed to make sure no one was there, but one night whilst lying in bed, a strange breathing sound could be heard coming from below the bed. I looked across at Sean and nudged him with my left elbow at the same time whispering “Sean, Sean, are you awake?” He did not stir, so I turned back to my side of the bed hoping the sound would stop. It did for a few seconds, but then started up again. Despite my hesitation, I needed to see what was responsible for the breathing sound. Slowly, I leaned out from the bed and lowered my head to peer underneath. At first I could only see darkness staring back at me, but then, I caught a glimmer of something crawling towards me, my heart was pounding and I found it difficult to breath, at what I could see. It is difficult to give an accurate description of what I observed; only this creature had red eyes and claws and it was under our bed. This entity was sneering at me and it had an aura of malevolence. Where did it come from, but, more importantly, why was it under our bed? I shot up and I began hyperventilating and, in my head, screamed out for my mum and dad because the words would not come out of my mouth. My body was stuck to the bed like an insect in the web of a spider, unable to move, just waiting for the hungry spider to strike. In my case I was forced to listen as the breathing taunted my soul. It was now light, and morning had arrived once more, and yet I do not recall falling asleep, as I was in a heightened state. What possesses us to be so curious about the things that scare us half to death? That we venture where angels dare not go? And yet we always do. This urgency to know is what makes us human. I never cared much for that wardrobe at the end of the bed, there was something not right about it. My intuition warned me to stay clear of it. What was wrong with it? 37

Whenever I went into the room the wardrobe ‘creeped me out’, like it was watching me. When the day gave way to night and I lay in bed, my sleep was interrupted by unknown sounds emanating from the rear of the bedroom and it sounded like the wardrobe door was opening. This went on for a few nights and at the time it never occurred to me why Sean didn’t wake when any of this was happening. Dad told me that, as a baby, a strange, glowing figure was often seen standing next to my cot looking down at me. Much later when Sean had turned six, dad said he had threatened him with the belt to force him to go up the stairs to bed, because he was afraid of the paranormal events happening in our bedroom. The belt even had a name (Wilbur). Francis and Kevin were punished by Dad with the help of his faithful friend the leather belt, whilst Sean and I received the hand across the back of the head and on one occasion I was whipped with a metal dog chain. What possesses a father to use violence against his children? Did he believe he was toughening us up for the cruel world? His actions were a result of being raised in a violent, dysfunctional household where violence was the norm. But instead of learning from this, he continued to dish it out on others, including his own family. Dad had not been born violent; but was taught how to be violent, perhaps because he grew up in Dolphins Barn in Dublin, which at the time was like the Bronx in New York City. He had a particular saying when addressing us boys, it was a warning of what would follow if we did not take his words seriously, he would say, “I will brain you”, and did with the print of his hands across the back of our heads. One night, I was awoken from my sleep by the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. It was my parents, who had returned home from a night out at the local community centre. I do not know what prompted the quarrel between them, but Mum decided to sleep in the spare room and Dad settled into bed. I could hear my Mum weeping in the room next door and then Dad got up out of the bed and went next door. He was shouting at Mum and I opened my door a little and was crying too, because I could hear Mum’s head being banged on the top of the radiator whilst she cried and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt like a coward, but I was only a young boy. The demon drink took him over. No form of violence is acceptable because it leaves psychological and emotional scars. Our lives are formed by the choices we make, both the positive and negative. 38

Sean must have heeded Dad’s warning about the belt and decided that seeing the strange figure was less frightening than having the strap across his backside.

***

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CHAPTER 7: STRETCHER HIM OUT This event took place in 1974 and at the time I was in bed sleeping, until something startled me enough to wake me. Moving onto my back, I lay still, staring up at the shadows cast onto the bedroom ceiling by the moonlight. I slowly turned my head to the left to see Sean sleeping soundly, his face tucked neatly into his pillow, so I turned my head away from him and back to the centre of my pillow. Something felt different, like I was still in my dream state, yet how could this be as I was awake? The bedroom was silent, as was the rest of the house and the atmosphere felt as though it had become statically charged. Suddenly there were three figures standing at the foot of the bed and two of them floated to my side. The next thing I knew I was floating above the bed and being guided toward a black stretcher and I was placed on top of it. The stretcher began to rise, moving over the bed and heading towards the window. Sean did not awaken from his deep sleep, nor did I shout out, which would have been a normal response, considering what was taking place. My body felt like it was being held in a magnetic field to prevent me from struggling and escaping. I was unable to move my body, only my eyes, I realised that they cannot control our eye movements. I was able to see one of these creatures; it was about five foot in height and had big, black, shiny eyes and a grey body. The black stretcher was floated through the pane of glass and yet it did not break. I simply sailed through it. Outside of the bedroom window was the roof to the room below, which functioned as a balcony, that later, as a teen I would climb up and onto the roof, using a brown wooden fence that ran around the entire garden. I would then jump off the roof and land on the grass below, breaking my fall with a roll and would assume the kneeling position of an infantry soldier taking aim with a 7.62 mm L1A1 SLR, Self-Loading Rifle. I was floated onto the balcony roof by these three grey creatures, which, much later in life, I learned were known as ‘the greys’. We flew up into the moonlit sky and, I could just make out my house as well as the pub and a few office buildings, which were getting smaller. I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes I was 40

Back lying in bed and the pillow and part of the sheet were coated with blood. My nose was never the same after this and I was always having nose bleeds and sinus problems. What had happened to me, and where did they take me? Over the years I have often pondered why they brought a black stretcher with them. Is it possible the greys were a screen memory deliberately fashioned to conceal the covert actions of the military? The reason for applying this logic is because the use of a stretcher by the greys in abduction cases is rare and it deviates from their usual methodology. This could then indicate a human agency was at play here. The bottom line is that I simply do not know and am merely exploring different avenues of thought. We must explore all alternatives, even if at first they appear absurd, but this is the phenomenon of high strangeness. We are, by all accounts, dealing with a multi-dimensional jigsaw puzzle.

I have taken the following case out of the excellent book, ‘The A70 UFO Incident ‘authored by veteran ufologist Malcolm Robinson. 41

Malcolm is one of the most respected investigators in the UK within the field of both ufology and the paranormal. The book tells the terrifying story of Garry Wood and his friend Colin Wright, who, on the evening of August 17th, 1992, were subjected to an astonishing and frightening experience which has stayed with them to this day. Whilst under hypnosis, both men individually reported that whilst driving along the road, their car was stopped, and both driver and passenger doors were opened by three small entities. Colin remembers Garry being placed on a stretcher of some kind that did not need to be held, because it just floated. One of the entities stood at the front of the stretcher, whilst one of the other stood at the rear. Garry said he could not recall being placed on the stretcher.

The above photo is how my childhood house looks today

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CHAPTER 8: ANGEL HAIR I remember one afternoon; I was sitting outside in the midday-sun, drinking sherbet lemonade from a tall drinking glass with red, white and blue stripes. Dad was often given brown paper bags containing white sherbet powder from the gardeners who came to tend to the school grounds. I recall one day, one of the men gave me a long, brown, plastic electrical trunking box and I thought it was the most magical thing and loved nothing more than sliding my toy cars down the inside of it. On one particular day, I watched as a mysterious white substance fell from the sky above my house, garage roof and most of the school grounds, it covered trees, bushes and rooftops. I asked Dad what it was, but he did not know. At first, he thought it may have been spider webs, but when he picked up a piece of this material it dissolved in his hands. Men wearing biological suits visited the school to test the substance using Geiger counters, but I do not know what the outcome was. Although I have always retained this, like so many other memories, I did not know back then that this strange substance could have been ‘Angel Hair’, so often seen falling from UFOs, mostly those involving discs, spheres and cigar shapes, but not the triangular type craft. Perhaps, the reason for this was due to their propulsion systems. As previously mentioned, the late Dr. Josef Allen Hynek created a classification system, and the one I am concerned with is known as Close Encounters of the Second Kind. This refers to a UFO that leaves behind trace evidence that can be recorded, such as markings on the ground, burn marks on humans, electrical interference to car engines, TV and radio and signs of agitation from animals. Angel Hair is described as a fine residual substance that is strong and hard to break yet dissolves to nothing. What is interesting is that it is believed to be formed from ionised air, created by an electromagnetic field enclosing a UFO and is associated with the craft’s propulsion system. 43

If so, perhaps this was the reason the men turned up with the Geiger counters. Had they seen this substance before? There are many case files related to Angel Hair from across the world and I would like to share this one with you, because it occurred over a school house, and because the narrative of my book involves my childhood home being a school house. I thought this would be most fitting. The Marysville Case, Ohio USA: On October 22nd, 1954, a bright silver cigar-shaped craft appeared in the sky over the School House of Jerome Elementary School and was witnessed by 60 students who began shouting and hollering for the principal Rodney Warrick, who walked out to witness this mysterious craft moving off. He called out for the teacher, Mrs. George Dittmar, who ran out, but was too late to see the craft, although was able to see a large amount of Angel Hair fall from the craft. The students grabbed it and handed it to the principal and their teacher, who discovered that after they had held it, a green stain appeared on both their hands. The fall lasted for 45 minutes. Some of the Angel Hair was retained in a jar and this took longer to dissipate. The US Air Force investigated this case, and their official line was recorded in Project Blue Book as being nothing more than spiders ‘webs. Mrs. George Dittmar said the most amazing part was when she drove three miles from the school over the country road to Columbus Road. She found that the telephone and electrical wires were covered with this substance like they had been woven and she was driving under a canopy of Angel Hair. Although fifty-seven per cent (or more) cases involved the sighting of a UFO after Angel Hair had fallen, it has been discovered that at certain locations where Poltergeist activity, or other high strangeness events have been investigated, a similar substance is sometimes found there and is often described as ‘Ectoplasm’, which is associated with trance mediumship and spiritualism.

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The word,ectoplasm, is derived (from the Greek ektos “outside” and plasma “something formed or moulded”). It was coined in 1894 by psychical researcher Charles Richet. A few researchers speculated that within the electromagnetic or biochemical field, there is an unidentified fluid known as ‘psychode, ‘psychic force' or ‘ecteneic force ‘and it was capable of being released to influence matter. ***

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CHAPTER 9: GREY NIGHT OF TRUAMA

Not long after Dad passed into spirit, the paranormal events that had plagued my early years started to move in a different direction. I loved nothing more than being up late at night and venturing out into the school grounds, where I could be alone with my thoughts. I knew the grounds like the back of my hand and could easily navigate the whole layout with my eyes closed, but there were areas that I had always been afraid of and I had no conscious reason to be. I now believe that the origin of this fear is tucked away somewhere in the depths of my subconscious mind. Another file tucked away neatly in a folder marked up as an X-file. It was July 1984 and I had not long turned sixteen. On this night, I had been outside in the grounds of the school seated in the centre of the large, school playground. I waskneeling and listening to Native American music from a selection of songs from the album ‘Spirit of the Redman’ by New World Music. I had a portable cassette player clipped to the belt of my black cotton combat trousers. I sat looking up towards the heavens, taking in the majesty of the celestial skyscape with the occasional flyby of a lone shooting star, which was always spectacular to behold. Although I enjoyed being out in the sunlight, it could not match the love I held for the night. For a while, the darkness filled me with a sense of power, not the corruptible sort, but a source of energy from the cosmos that exists all around us. I breathed into the field of energy surrounding my body and it made me feel alive and not so alone, but sadly as time went on and the abductions increased, my love of the night faded. I began to intuitively sense eyes watching me from above as I sat in deep contemplation. I did not understand during those times that I was actually experiencing CE-5 - Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind, whereby, when I meditated, I was sending out, via my consciousness and through my bio-chemical field or aura, magnified supercharged energy from my heart that could be seen and felt by others. This may have resembled a prism which broke down the light from my heart and soul into the seven colours of the rainbow a sort of ‘light language’.

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The greys are not benevolent and do not care about our wellbeing or personal spiritual destiny, but there are beings that exist, slightlyremoved from the earth, that do care. The greys are invested in us for sinister reasons that are aligned with their deceptive agenda. When I look back now at this time, it reminded me of how the character Truman Burbank, played by Jim Carrey, from the 1998 comedy-drama ‘The Truman Show ‘felt, when he suspected he was being observed from above and in his case, he was being monitored by hidden cameras. I stayed outside until the early hours and then walked back slowly to the house, which by this time lay covered in a blanket of darkness as everyone had gone to bed and this is where I intended to be soon. Making my way up the stairs to my bedroom, I suddenly had the urge to return downstairs. So, I turned and headed back down. Entering the front room, I closed the door behind me and stood for a moment allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark room. On the left side of me was a brown fabric sofa that sat in front of a wall mounted radiator. To the right, in the corner of the room, was a Pye 22inch, colour TV with a remote control with teletext. The TV had a brown, wooden shell and a grey, plastic inner frame fitted around the screen. For any younger readers, the TV’s back then were proportionately bulky. Back in those days, the TV only had three channels and Sean and I sat on the floor, a bit like the youngsters at Wimbledon picking up the stray tennis balls, only we pressed one of three buttons to change the channel over. No Robinson’s Barley Water for us boys, only a clip around the head if we did not do it. The room was silent and hot, so I did not need to put a cover over myself as I lay on the sofa, nor did I bother getting undressed. After a moment, the darkened room gave way to the light of dawn as it seeped in through the gaps in the top of the thick, dark green curtains that were drawn across the windows. I could feel my eyes closing and my body letting go of all the clutter I had amassed during the day. My eyes suddenly shot open, startled by an unknown threat as an uneasy feeling rose around me, and it was at that moment I became aware of a presence lurking behind me. I tried to jump up from the sofa to make a run for the door, but discovered to my dismay, that I was unable to move my body. The whole of my being was held in place by a force that did not want me to escape its clutches. Could this unknown element be the same force I had detected earlier in the large playground whilst 47

meditating, whose eyes I sensed watching me from somewhere in the night and who were now in the room with me? I was trapped now like an animal caught in a net by a hunter who had stalked their prey, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, snare, and take it away. My head was spinning and my body was shaking as I struggled to break free. I tried to shout out in the hope that someone would hear my panicstricken cries of terror and come and release me from this waking nightmare. My mouth opened and yet no sound came out, so no one came to rescue me. Alone and defenceless, it would not be long before I came face-to-face with my tormentors. The presence that surrounded me sickened me to the core of my being, as I struggled to break free from this paralysis. My vision was still limited to the point of not being able to look behind me. Suddenly a hand touched the top of my head, but it did not feel like a human hand, but belonging to something non-human. After struggling, for what seemed to be an eternity against these assailants, it was all in vain as a sudden bout of exhaustion flooded my body, like I had been drugged and I now lay there in a state of limbo, between the world of the living and the land of the dead. My head was pulled back and at last I was able to see whose hand was holding me, a grey creature was leaning over me, and I could smell a stench coming from it, that at the time I was unable to identify, but much later I discovered it was sulphur. The grey creature had a big head with black eyes that were like oil, and almond shaped. I sensed this was a male. A second creature now came into my line of vision, this one looked like the first one, and again it felt male. I was able to see more of its features. It was about five foot tall with a big grey head, large black eyes, a classical grey that, by all accounts, was often reported by other abductees. What is it about those eyes, it’s not so much that they are huge, well there is that, but it feels as though these are not their real eyes? What is it about those big, black, shiny eyes that troubles us so? I do not believe that these are their genuine eyes and if I were to make a guess, it would be that they consist of two parts. 48

The first part of this hypothesises that the lenses are like sunglasses that protects them from both bright lights as well as sunlight. If you think about it, the greys are often encountered during the hours of darkness and perhaps it is because the eyes are supersensitive to light. One of the oldest Native American Indian Tribes in North America, the Hopi who live on the Hopi reservation, located in the high desert of Northeast Arizona in North America, have legends pertaining to a race of beings who they call the ‘Ant People’, or ‘Ant Friends’, (Anu Sinom). The tribe have a reverence for the ant. The Hopi say that these creatures helped them survive, not just once but twice. Firstly, at the time of the ‘First World', which had been destroyed by fire, which may or may not have been natural, and then, the ‘Second World’, which was destroyed by ice during a pole shift. During these times, the Hopi were guided by an odd-shaped cloud during the day and at night by a bright, white, moving star that guided them to the sky god named Sotuknang, who brought them to the Ant People. The creatures escorted the tribe deep into the underbelly of the earth through a network of subterranean caves. Could these creatures be related to the modern day classical grey aliens, so often depicted in alien abductions? After all, they do resemble giant ants. I hated ants when I was a child, I wonder why?

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The second hypothesis I would put forward is that the black, polished lens contains highly advanced technology to assist the greys in their covert activities in abducting children and adults. Take for example, Microsoft’s‘HoloLens’ technology devices, that use what is known as an ‘Integrated Visual Augmentation System’, or simply (IVAS). This device allows soldiers to see through thick smoke, around corners and use holographic imagery, 3D terrain mapping projected onto their field of vision. HoloLens is a mixed reality technology, plus it incorporates sophisticated thermal imaging sensors and GPS technology, with night-vision capabilities. It allows soldiers to enter and exit buildings more easily. This technology is not as advanced as that of the greys, but you can see we are travelling along the same road. Imagine we were the greys and were appearing to a population of people who were not as technologically advanced as we were. Would they think that those big black, polished, eyes were our authentic eyes? The greys are technological wizards who have clearly learned how to integrate science, technology, and consciousness together to deceive observers into thinking they are using Magick. The greys have a deeper understanding of the human brain, including electromagnetic frequencies and brainwave patterns and can apply these when conducting covert abductions. (Returning to the narrative above) No matter what their eyes turn out to be, they can take the necessary steps to subdue an abductee by reading the electrical impulses of the mind. The grey in front of me suddenly produced a wand-like instrument and held it in its right hand, as it stood looking at me. The wand-like device began to glow. I discovered later that these creatures do not act from a singular consciousness, but belong to a complicated hive-mind, like ants. My mouth was forced open as the grey holding the glowing wand glided toward me and held it over my mouth. This created utter terror in me. The wand emitted a buzzing sound as it cut into my gums. I could feel heat and a burning sensation inside my mouth. Can you imagine this happening to a child or teenager?

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It is bad enough, a human acting in this way, but now we must contend with savageness from demented grey creatures from elsewhere. I tried to move my legs to kick out, but they would not move. I attempted to shout, but the only sound was a muffled sound of sheer terror. The pain was real to me in that moment, no matter the discomfort I was forced to endure, the creatures could not careless; in fact, they exhibitedan emotionless void, an aura of coldness and indifference. My teeth and gums were being cut with this instrument; “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I was yelling in my mind and I know they heard me, but continued with what they were doing. Were they putting something inside my mouth or taking it out, I could not be sure, however something happened to me later that may be linked to this event, but I will write about this in book two. Eventually it did stop and when it did, the grey holding my head released me and moved enough for me to look past it. Iwas shocked to see a human-looking man dressed in a navy-blue military uniform with a matching cap and he was working alongside the greys. Sometime later, I was able to identify this uniform as belonging to an officer of the US Air Force. He was just standing, silently observing, and I wondered how long he had been there whilst the two greys operated on me. Turning my head away from the American, I looked ahead at the door, but was unable to do anything, as I was still paralysed. The greys completed their work and floated across to where the US officer stood, and then all three vanished. After a few minutes I was able to move my body, and not wanting to remain one moment longer in the room, I got up off the sofa. This was easy enough, until I put one foot in front of the other and this caused me to stumble, as though I had been drugged. At last, I gained my freedom and walked briskly to the downstairs toilet, desperately trying to see what damage they had done to me. I stood now facing the mirror and I opened my mouth fearing the worst but was shocked and relieved at the same time. There were no visible signs of injury, so what had just happened? I made my way up to my bedroom and collapsed onto the carpeted floor, my head still reeling from what had just taken place, then exhaustion finally gave way to sleep.

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000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 I awoke after being asleep for several hours with a throbbing headache, but still retained a clear memory of what had transpired only a short time ago. After picking myself up off the bedroom floor, I moved slowly towards the bedroom window. I pulled back the white net curtain and my eyes were temporally blinded by the rays of the sun. This forced me to recoil, as I automatically covered my eyes with my right arm. My eyes were always sensitive to bright lights and the sun, but were stronger at night, apparently a trait that both the greys and abductees share. I looked again out of the window, and I could see a newly developed housing estate, and, to the left, on the corner of St. Mark Street and Scarborough Street, was the Scarborough Arms pub, which was open, and there were a few office workers outside on their lunch break, drinking, smoking, chatting, and laughing as they basked in the midday sun before returning to work. Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 ***

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CHAPTER 10: UNEXPECTED PASSING

My Dad died when I was fifteen and the night before, we had been arguing over something silly and voices were raised as we fought to gain the upper ground. Looking back through the passage of time, the falling out was pointless. Dad stood at the bottom of the stairs, whilst I stood at the top as we both shouted at each other, and for the life of me, I cannot recall what caused this heated disagreement. He never liked it when I challenged his authority, but I was a teen and did just that. He shouted at me that he would brain me if I continued to answer him back. I decided to go to bed and left him to stew in his own anger. After undressing, I pulled the light blue cotton cover on my bed back far enough for me to slip underneath, and although my mind was unsettled from the unfortunate run-in with Dad, I soon fell into a deep sleep and was lost in a world of dreams. I found myself awash at sea, standing on the deck of a ship from a century long gone, it had been battered and damaged in a ferocious storm. I was lost in thick fog, unable to navigate safely back to the shore. It was then that I caught a glimmer of light cutting through the dense fog that reassured me that land was not too far away, but the ship was still in danger and could hit the rocks and be smashed to pieces. The light grew brighter and brighter allowing me to guide the ship back to safety. As the ship drew closer to land somewhere, within the subsiding fog, I could hear a faint voice calling out my name, prompting me to return from the dream state like a shaman who walks between both worlds. My eyes slowly opened, and I could hear my Mum’s voice calling out my name, so I turned my head in the direction of her voice and could just make out through my blurry eyes, her silhouette standing in the entrance of the bedroom door. I pushed myself up, resting my back up against the pillows. Mum said, “Michael I am so sorry”, her voice was trembling, and I knew something was wrong. She said, “Your Dad is dead”. A jolt of adrenaline shot through me forcing me awake. I replied, “I don’t understand”. Mum said, “It happened so quickly, he is gone, I am sorry”. My mind went numb, I was in shock. 53

Mum walked into the room and sat on the end of the bed, and I was now able to see her face was distraught, her eyes red from crying. Mum went onto to explain that Dad had woken in the early hours of the morning complaining of having shooting pains down his left arm as well as pains in his chest and found it difficult to breathe. He sat up on the bed holding his arm whilst breathing heavily. Mum rushed down the stairs to call for an ambulance. She lifted the receiver and dialled 999 waiting for the operator. After a few seconds she was speaking to a female who put her through to the Ambulance Service, who asked her a few questions, Mum said, with urgency in her voice, “Please come quick”. After placing the receiver down, she rushed back up the stairs and although she had not even reached the top of the landing, she could see Dad through the doorway of the bedroom slumped on the floor. She hurried to his side, and he rested his head on her lap as she held him, reassuring him that an ambulance was on the way. I do not know what words passed between them as Dad lay in her arms dying. I would imagine her voice was stricken with anguish, as tears fell from her eyes, hoping that he would return to her. She feared the worst, her eyes now a fountain of tears as she held him for the last time. Suddenly she was jolted back to this reality as she became aware of the front doorbell ringing. Wiping tears from her eyes and lifting his head from her lap, she reached across and grabbed a pillow from off the bed to place under his head. She hurried down the stairs in her dressing gown and reached up to unlock the door. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by two male paramedics who followed her up to where my father lay dying. The medics quickly examined him and fought to revive him, but it was too late and he was pronounced dead. Our family GP later said that my father had a massive heart attack and if he had survived, he would have been brain-dead. Mum stood up and left me with my own thoughts as she went back downstairs. I lay in bed still reeling from the unwanted news. The dream was warning me that tough times lay ahead for me; despite this I would survive and become stronger and wiser for it. As I dressed, my thoughts constantly switched from one thought and emotion to another, and in that moment, I could not accept he was dead, how could he be? He was alive last night.

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Our lives are so short and before we can blink, we may just breathe our final breath. How fleeting and fragile we are, against the backdrop of a magnificent universe. After dressing, I made my way down to the dining room and as I approached the door, I could hear Mum crying and the sound of strange voices chatting. Upon entering the room, it felt as though a whole vacuum of raw emotion was suddenly unleashed from a pool of chaos and thrown in my path. I came face-to-face with a Metropolitan police officer, a ‘wooden top’ as they are called from the helmets they wore. He looked over at me and without any words; I sensed his unease at being present during this time of loss. The police officer took out a black leather pocketbook, flipped it open and removed the attached pencil to record Mum’s words as he asked questions about my father’s death. I know he was only doing his job and it was not a duty he relished, but at the time I was really annoyed and thought “Surely you could return later and take a statement. Can you not see my Mum is distraught? Leave us in peace!” Of course, the police are required to gather the facts. Looking back now, I can recall a conversation taking place between our parents, discussing if my dad should leave his job as the school keeper and take on the role of caretaker at Guinness Court, a newly developed block of flats, but for some reason he decided against it. When the flats opened, he became good friends with the caretaker there, who had retired from the Royal Air Force and had been the flight commander in the Red Arrows display team. Dad took me to see him a few times and I can remember being in his study and looking at framed photos of him, from his time in the RAF. Dad had served in the Royal Air Force during WWII as a flight engineer, but he never spoke about what he did. Mum told me later that not long before he died, he had visited our doctor who was a good friend of his, because they came from the same area of Dublin, Ireland. The doctor told him he needed to quit smoking because he had a pressing health concern. You see, Dad smoked a brand of cigarette called ‘Senior Service’ that were extremely strong and he smoked a hundred per day. Unfortunately, he took him on his word and quit on a dime when he should have given up slowly. I do not speak about my parents much and for a long time after Dad had passed, blamed myself for him dying, because the night before he died, 55

we had argued and this was the last memory I have of him. It took me a while to understand and accept his sudden death was not my fault. I was only a teen when he passed away and I never got to know him. When I was a child I feared him, yet despite this, being the youngest, I felt cheated out of getting to know him as an adult and seeing a better side of him. On the day of Dad’sfuneral, most of my memory is fragmented and the only part that stands out is when his coffin had been carried to the front of the altar. I leaned into Mum and said, “Look at all these people, who are they?” Mum shook her head and said she did not know. The whole of the nave (derived from the Latin word “Navis” meaning ship, or upside-down ship or ark of salvation) which is the main area for the congregation to sit, were rows of brown, wooden benches. I glanced up at the upper floor galleries which, for the first time in decades, were full and the Vestibule, (the area where you enter from the street through the two huge, arched doors, where you can take holy water and read church literature and where the empty collection boxes are kept before the mass starts, was full to the brim. So much so, that the main street outside of the church was engulfed with people. There were six Priests taking the mass that day and one told Mum later he had never seen a church so full at a funeral. Vestibule is taken from the Latin word ‘Vestibulum’ meaning “entrance court.” It acts as an additional barrier, to keep heat and cool air inside and street sounds out. A short while before Dad died everyone in the household at various times, both during the day and at night, heard a strange buzzing sound that would, without warning, make itself known to whoever happen to be in its vicinity. In the beginning, we thought it was a fly, but after a time this was ruled out, because we could never find a fly and whatever the source of the buzzing was, it was intelligent and targeted us one at a time and never when we were together. It would always strike when our backs were turned, a bit like the sneaky greys. The buzzing was so close to the ear and very loud. The sound vanished after two weeks and then returned a month later and would leave and return at specific times. One night, when all of us had gone up to bed, all hell let loose when Kevin was heard ransacking his bedroom. Dad jumped up out of bed and turned the hall light on and as he opened the door to Kevin’s room he stood here and was furious with him and shouted, “What’s wrong you eejit?” 56

(Irish slang for a stupid person or idiot). “I will brain you, getting me up out of bed and waking your mother up”. Kevin replied that ‘the buzzing was back'. After Dad had passed over, this sound returned for a short while and then left for good, but high strangeness was not the end of it. One chapter closed and another opened. The phenomenon transforms itself into some other medium but is still connected. A little later, both Mum and I became aware of a particular breathing sound whenever we had gone to bed. The source of this sound originated from below the bed and underneath the pillows. Mum decided to get rid of her double bed and replace it with two single beds. On some nights I would sit at the end of the second bed and listen with mum, to the James Whale radio show. We chatted about the events of the day and commented on the topics raised on the show, whilst Mum took sips from her cup of hot milk that helped her sleep. I was always close to Mum even though she was strict like Dad, but she accepted I was different to my brothers. Sometimes when I lay back on the bed and listened to the radio with Mum, it was during those times, I became aware of a deep breathing sound that was quite eerie. My first thought was that I was imagining it, but when it continued, I looked underneath the pillow, not sure what I expected to find. But of course, there was nothing there. The moment I rested my head onto my pillow again, the breathing started up once more. “What is it?” I thought. Then Mum told me she could hear a breathing sound coming from underneath her pillow, and I replied, “Me too”. After a short while it stopped, but then we could hear a male voice talking, but were unable to make out what he was saying as the sound was muffled. The voice was now accompanied by more voices, belonging to men and women, all speaking at the same time, as if they were departed spirits pushing into a line-up at a Spiritualist Church, hoping to speak with their loved ones. We both heard the voices and always when we were together and only at night. Over the years we reminisced over these events and never did discover the source of the voices or breathing. It had been a sweltering day and the night was no different. In fact, it was a sticky night, the air stuck to you like glue. I lay on top of the bed with my head resting on a soft, white cotton pillow. 57

Everything in my young life seemed to be centred on utter madness and chaos, an abyss in Hell. I was wide awake and alert, as I focused my eyes on a single spot on the ceiling, my thoughts drifted back to events surrounding Dad’s death. What if we had not argued on that night, would he still be alive? I felt numb and empty. Suddenly, and without any warning,Dad appeared in the room at the end of the bed, like he had never left. I was not afraid; I just looked at him as he stood in the entrance of the open doorway, with the landing light bulb glowing behind his head. His face looked slightly younger, and he was dressed in a brown suit he had been accustomed to wearing when alive in the physical world. Dad was always 'suited and booted’ both at work and socially. He looked at me, but never said a word; heonly smiled, then vanished. Did he hear my thoughts, feel my inner anguish and had returned briefly to reassure me he was ok and let me know I had not been responsible for his sudden death? Could it be that he had not immediately departed from the world, but remained earthbound? Could those voices have been linked to him? Perhaps these were relatives, guiding him into the light to take him home, away from the emotional disturbance that hung in the atmosphere of the house like thick fog? He may well have been saying farewell, as he returned in spirit to his true home. Eventually I fell asleep on the bed, no need for a cover as it was baking hot and if by chance the temperature dropped, I would simply slip underneath the duvet to keep warm. My consciousness left my body and I flew up through the ceiling and out of the roof, passing through an opening in the sky, which I later learned was a ‘star-gate’. Did I open this, or did it open because of being outside of the body? I do not know. The gate allowed me to enter the ethereal realm. I now found myself walking along a path and taking in the profound beauty of my immediate surroundings. The whole realm was alive and the landscape glowed from within. This attested to the fact that those souls who inhabited this dimension coexisted in harmony and selfless love - that was reflected in the environment. Our consciousness, heart and soul are incredibly beautiful when raised up. The souls here existed in a state of bliss. I stood there and breathed in the majestic rhythm of total peace.

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I decided to fly off to a different location and yet it seemed as though I was being guided by an invisible hand or unknown force; a more profound aspect of me, such as an ‘over soul’. It is amazing to fly like a bird and have a bird’s eye view of the world below. I could not see my body, but clearly it was me experiencing this, yet without a physical shell. We have temporarily forgotten that we have been here before. And often during the sleep state when we dream, the symbols that we capture in our individual nets are what our minds retain when we awaken from the soul’s journeying. It is then up to us to unravel the mystery of what we have been doing outside of the body and this is never an easy task, as it is more like searching for a needle in a haystack, without the use of a metal detector. How many times have we travelled to the astral plane and indeed the earth’s spirit world, as well as the earth? Looking down at the vast landscape, this was no 3-D image. I can scarcely find the words to describe what I was observing, only to say that the entire environment shone with a mixture of colours, derived from one source of power and light. It was truly a breath-taking experience to have. I was now back on my feet and walking through a large, arched white gate that led into a park surrounded by greenery and varieties of flowers and trees of all colours. I stood watching the inhabitants of this realm strolling along. One of them wore a blue top-hat with matching regency tails and black leatherlooking boots and his female companion had an emerald, regency dress. The spirit lovers reminded me of a scene taken from the pages of Jane Austen’s 1813 novel, ‘Pride and Prejudice’, where the handsome and wealthy Fitzwilliam Darcy, or Mr. Darcy, pursues Lady Elizabeth Bennett. The inhabitants looked at me with warmth and smiled a lot. The people here were aware I was only visiting and when the time was right, I would depart and return to where my physical body lay sleeping on top of the bed. There was also lake, with sapphire crystal water close to where I stood. I watched a small boat gliding towards me, with a single white sail, it was guided by a man who looked like he was in his prime, but if I were to make a guess, I would say he was a lot older. The man was dressed in a plain, white, sleeveless t-shirt, navy blue shorts and was bare-footed. 59

He looked over at me smiling, and he gestured to me to follow him. It was time to leave this beautiful realm. Before I could blink, I had returned to my bedroom. Sometime during the day, I spoke with Mum and told her that Dad had visited me, but she did not appear to be overly surprised by this revelation. She asked me how he looked, and if he had said anything. I told her he looked fine and was dressed in much the same manner as when he was here, but did not say anything, only smiled. I told Mum that I left the body and travelled to a location where those who have died dwelled in a state of tranquillity and bliss. Mum smiled and simply said, “That’s nice”. The next experience occurred when I was seventeen, and, on this night, I had become extremely sleepy. Over the years this unexpected drowsiness helped me to have many adventures outside of the body. My eyes became so heavy that I was unable to keep them open any longer despite my resistance and I lay back on the bed with my eyes closed and began to feel my consciousness drifting away from this body and fly up into the air. At first, I was unable to see anything, but then my spirit eyes opened and I was able to perceive the night sky and the school grounds and my house below. After a short stint it was time to travel further, as I wanted to see what I could do and I shot upwards through cloud cover and outside of the earth. As far as I could see, the earth was a round sphere and not flat. Before I could go any higher, which I wanted to do, a rainbow tunnel appeared before me and I was flying through it. It was then that I could see a lot of people, from different centuries, standing within the multicoloured tunnel. These people were here to greet me and I had the strong impression that I knew each one of them, from other lifetimes. The rainbow was surrounded by stars. It is interesting, because the sight of a rainbow tunnel is always associated with NDE’s (Near Death Experiences) but on this occasion, I was not having one of those. Just a little in front of me and off to my right, I could see a man walking towards me, waving and smiling and it was then I realised this was my Dad. I smiled back at him and returned to my body. Oh my, what an adventure. He did not brain me this time! I made a huge mistake one day, when speaking with our family doctor. After he asked how I was coping with the loss of my father, being young and a little naïve, I told him that he had appeared to me. 60

My doctor looked at me frowning, with a quizzical expression across his face and asked, “What do you mean?” I told him he suddenly appeared, unexpectedly in front me. The doctor told me this was impossible and could not have been him, because he was dead and what I witnessed was an illusion brought on by grief. I stood my ground and told him he was mistaken and life continues after the body dies. If looks could kill, I surely would be dead. He was an old-school doctor and although good at his job, he was disliked by his patients, because his bedside manner was cold to the point of rudeness. He did not appreciate a teenage boy questioning his so-called medical expertise. I was innocent and yet wise on other levels that were outside the perception of the adults around me. Three days later I was sitting in the front room reading a book and the TV was on in the background, when the house phone started to ring. I was about to answer it, when Mum appeared and picked up the receiver, and from the next room I could hear her say, “Hello, Kameron household, how can I help you? “She paused, waiting for a response, “Hello doctor”. Mum continued to listen to what he was saying and I noticed, looking across from my chair, out into the hallway, at my mother, that she was getting agitated as she twisted the yellow telephone wire in her left hand. She said, “No, he is not and I will not consent to that”. Mum looked over at me and said to him, “He can see what other people cannot” and with that hung up the phone on him. She was not keen on him and years before, when she was bed-ridden, she was forced to visit him because he would not come out. He called her a liar and she hit him with a chair and he told Dad she was neurotic. Mum said she would speak with me later and added that I was not in trouble. I returned to reading my book, but found it difficult, as my mind kept skipping back to the conversation between Mum and the doctor. Did it have anything to do with what I mentioned to him about Dad, I wondered? Mum later confirmed that this was indeed the case. She said that he thought I was going crazy. He wanted me to attend an institution where I would receive help. He was asking for her permission, but she refused. The next day she had a call from him informing her that, if necessary, I could be taken and sectioned under the Mental Health Act. I could not understand why this was happening to me. Why was he so intent on locking me away? Was he right, was I crazy? Every part of me was telling me, no, I was not.

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The world around me was collapsing; in just over a period of three months I lost Dad, two aunts and my dog, Rex. And to add the icing on the cake, the family doctor, who clearly lived in the dark ages, wanted to lock me away. God knows what he would have done if I had told him about the alien abductions, most probably have locked me up in a strait jacket, in a padded cell and thrown away the key. The world is dangerous when you are ‘different’, it’s no wonder we are so secretive. When I was five, Dad took me to the London Hospital to see a doctor, because I had begun soiling my underwear, and a few tests were conducted on me, by the doctor in a white lab-coat, whilst Dad waited outside in a cubicle. After he finished, he took me back to where Dad was seated and then returned half-an-hour later to speak with Dad. He walked across to me with a puzzled look on his face and kneeled down to speak to me. He said, “Well young man, it would seem you do not exist anywhere on our records despite being born at the hospital”. He paused and smiled, then added, “Do you know what you could do if you did not officially exist and were a spook?” I had no clue what he was going on about. Could he have been making a reference to the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency)? ***

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CHAPTER 11: SURVEILLANCE BOOTH I found myself standing beside Dad at the bottom of a metal staircase, that had pieces of green paint ripped away by the elements over the passage of time. I have no memory of travelling to this location, only that it was very cold and I felt the wind blowing across my face. Dad took my right hand and guided me up the wrought iron staircase, which looked like a fire escape at the rear of the building. The brickwork seemed old, possibly Victorian, and the steps lead up to a further three levels. I did not ask why we were here, back then children never asked questions, at least not this Catholic boy. I could feel his hand in mine as he led me to my unknown fate. At last, we were at the top and dad approached the green door, he reached for the silver handle, pulling it towards him to open it. I stopped for a moment. I was not certain why I was here. Dad gestured to me to follow him through the door, which led into a small passageway and a second door. As I entered the strange room, I figured Dad was behind me, but when I looked back, he was not there. The door was closing back into its frame and being locked from the other side. I dashed across and tugged at the handle, frantically attempting to open the door, but to no avail. I stood facing the door with my face pressed into it calling out for Dad, but no one answered and the door remained locked. Turning now with my back to the door, I could feel myself sliding down but felt that this was not happening, it was all surreal. My head now rested upon my folded arms that lay over my knees, concealing the teardrops falling from my closed eyes. After a few minutes I looked up and wiped away the remaining tears with my wet sleeve and sat on the hard floor, looking out into the strange room. The whole of the interior was white, except for a protruding booth that had dark glass which was near the ceiling. In the centre of the room stood a single, white-topped table bolted to the floor and a matching chair also bolted down. The room now seemed hauntingly familiar to me, but I did not know how. I pulled myself up off the floor, walked slowly towards the table and sat down in the chair with my back facing away from the dark booth. 63

The room was silent except for my breathing. “I want to go home, please let me go home now”. A strange sensation overtook me, and I became aware there were two of me. The one sat in the chair at the desk and the other standing beside me looking up at the booth. I was outside of my body and floating like a ghost in mid-air. I was hovering like a stealthy helicopter moving closer to the dark glass, which I now know was two-way glass often used for monitoring and surveillance purposes. Was I being studied and assessed like a lab rat, and, if so, for what purpose? My consciousness travelled through the glass and I was now able to perceive who was hidden behind it. I observed a white woman in her late thirties with long, straight, dark hair. She was wearing blackrimmed glasses and a long, white lab coat.

She stood looking at various monitors whilst ticking off something on a pad attached to a clipboard she held in her left hand. On the right hand-side of her was a similarly dressed man seated in front of a monitor. On her left was my Dad, who was seated on a chair with his arms folded. The next thing I knew I was back inside my physical body and opening my eyes to discover I was lying in bed at my house 64

and it was night-time. Where did I go? And how did I get back home without being aware? Francis believes I was drugged and they had been evaluating my ability to leave my body and travel through interdimensional star-gates. There are no borders and you don’t need passports when outside of the body and distance is never an issue. At one time, I believed this building had been a hospital, but much later in life I had a flashback ok relating to this childhood event, that cast doubt on my first assumption, because it allowed me to see that it had been a military facility. ***

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CHAPTER 12: WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE Dad was sitting at the desk in the secretary’s office one afternoon in July, when the school was closed for the summer holidays. He was going through invoices whilst I was sat in the corner of the room watching him work. If the truth be known, I was bored. Dad stopped momentarily to take a small packet of Senior Service cigarettes out from his shirt pocket. He shook the box before opening it, only to find to his dismay it was empty. So, he crumpled the packet into a distorted shape and threw it across the room and it landed in a mustard-coloured metal bin. He looked over at me with a sense of satisfaction on his face because he had got it in the first time.

He rose from the chair and patted himself down, checking his trouser pockets for any hint of a cigarette, but from the reaction on his face I guess he did not have one spare. He asked me to walk across to the corner shop to get him a packet of ten Senior Service cigarettes. He handed me some money and told me not to speak to strangers.

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My parents were friends with the African family who owned the shop (they were always helpful) and this is the reason I was able to buy them. After leaving the shop I was suddenly accosted by three strange men in broad daylight, they were rough-looking and had come out from the DHSS, (Department of Health and Social Security) office at the rear of Lemon Street Police Station, which was quite handy for the staff, because fights frequently broke out and having the police so close was a bonus. Two of the three scruffy, foul-smelling men stood behind me, whilst the third one stood directly in front of me. Looking down he said, “We know who you are”. I replied, “What do you mean?” A sinister grin widened on his face and he said, “We are going to take you somewhere and rape you”. At the time I had never heard this word and did not understand its true meaning, but I could sense from their energy it would not be pleasant. Unfortunately, in those days CCTV did not exist, so there were no images of these men. The one in front of me grabbed a hold of my clothes pulling me towards him, as he ranted and filled my personal space with the stench of his breath. He was telling me about how they would use me sexually. I shouted at him to let me go and called out to the office workers walking by to help me, but my words fell on deaf ears. The men laughed and it was at this moment I managed to break free from his grasp and run away. I ran back to where Dad was waiting and hurried into the office, telling him three men had attacked me and told me they were going to rape me. Dad immediately shot out of the door and through the staff entrance gate heading in the direction of the corner shop but could not see any sign of the three scruffy men. He checked inside the local shop, but they were not there, so ran further up the road searching for them, but they had vanished. I knew if Dad had caught up with them, he would have given them a good kicking. He never started a fight, but you can be sure he would finish it, with his own barbaric style of punishment, learned the hard way, growing up in the streets of Dublin, Ireland. After he returned to the office where I was waiting, he did not mention the incident again, until many years later.

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On this day I had been extremely lucky and escaped what could have been a very unpleasant experience for me at the hands of three monsters. However, I was not so fortunate years later when, at the age of thirteen, I was starting the first year of Secondary School for boys. One day, I was travelling on the tube from Aldgate East station on the Hammersmith line to Liverpool Street station, where I changed for the Central line taking me to my destination, Holland Park. The tube train was full of people on their way to work in the rush hour and we were crammed together, like pebbles on a beach. Sometime into the journey, a white male in his late forties stood next to me and followed me from the train and once he got me on my own, I was sexually assaulted. After the train left the station, a chilly wind blew all the way up the long escalators and it was always empty. There was no CCTV at the station, only a few staff who stood at the entrance upstairs. I froze and never shouted out. Even if I had done, no one would have heard me. I felt numb and my mind disassociated, a common method used in MK-Ultra to create ‘alters’. When my eyes refocused, the man had gone. I continued making my way to school, but was dazed, confused and extremely late. Back then there were no mobile phones, so I could not call ahead to say I would be late. When I reached the steps leading up to the main entrance of the school, one of the heads, dressed in a black gown and wearing a mortar board on his head, was waiting for late comers. He was an older school master, and very much part of the old building. He looked down at his wristwatch to indicate to me that I was late. I apologised and told him that a man on the same carriage as me had followed me and sexually attacked me. The school master stood silent and then told me to get to my class. A little later he came into the class and wanted to speak with me outside in the corridor. He pointed his trembling finger at me and growled at me that I was a liar and troublemaker (trouble for who I wonder?) I cannot recall everything he said; only that it left me with a marker memory. When I arrived home from school Dad was waiting for me and asked about my day. 68

At first, I did not mention what had happened to me, because I thought he would be mad like the school master, but he encouraged me to tell him and I did once I felt safe. Dad suggested I tell the police. Initially I did not want to, but eventually I did. Dad walked me to Lemon Street Police Station and sat with me in the interview room, whilst a detective asked me questions about what happened. For a whole week undercover police officers followed me to school. The detective told me to stand at the front of the platform and if I noticed the man to go and sit on the bench as this would alert the detectives of his presence. I am certain Dad and Francis was there as well. The detectives tailed me on the Tube and on foot, to and from school for a week, but, unfortunately, he was never caught. The secondary school I attended was strict and Roman Catholic, but nevertheless, care and attention to a pupil should be paramount, especially when reporting a sexual assault. I was confronted by a teacher who displayed an emotional indifference towards me. They only decided to tell my parents in case I did. You may think it odd I never wanted to tell my parents, but I thought I would be in trouble. I was ashamed and neither my parents, nor the school ever mentioned this again. Another dirty secret swept under the carpet. For my part, the memory was filed away, like so many other experiences taken from this world of high strangeness. ***

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CHAPTER 13: COME WITH US Mum had gone to bed at ten o’clock and Francis, Kevin and Sean were out socialising. I asked Mum if she would like me to make her a cup of hot milk and bring it up to her when she was settled. The day had come and gone with nothing untoward happening. Mum was fond of Carnation Milk, which irritated Francis and Kevin when they made tea for her and Dad, and they often referred to her as The Queen, a tongue-in-cheek nickname. But tonight, I used the red top milk, poured from a glass bottle, not like the cheap, plastic bottles we have today. The milk was delivered everyday by our milkman and in the evening, we had a London Evening Standard Newspaper delivered by the gentleman who stood at the entrance of Aldgate East underground Tube station, selling newspapers to the commuters coming home from work. I boiled the milk in a pan on the stove and when it was ready, I poured it into a cup. Mum was sitting up in bed with a single yellow sheet covering her, as the night was extremely hot. I walked around the side of the bed, placing the hot cup of milk on the bedside table, that shared a space with a black, chromed-plated transistor radio that she listened to, to help her relax. I suspect she lay in bed thinking about Dad, the day and the radio show. I stood looking out of the open window that had a white, net curtain pulled back. The air was sticky and the night fell silent, in a sheet of darkness, a void or black hole, where light became trapped in an eternal celestial tomb. Mum asked me if I was able to see anything, to which I replied that it was much too dark. So, I walked back across the room to the spare bed opposite that stood beside a radiator fixed to the wall. I sat down on the bed and looked over at Mum, who was listening to the James Whale show, occasionally reaching for her cup of hot milk and taking small sips from it. The bedroom door was open and the light from the landing shone through into the bedroom, creating a space for light and darkness. I took two pillows, one yellow and the other one white and placed them at the rear end of the bed, as I rolled onto it, resting my head and making 70

myself as comfortable as possible, whilst looking in the direction of the windows. Something in the room had changed and at the time I was unable to figure out what it was? I suddenly became aware of a bright light, emanating from above the top of our house. It was then that I experienced a sharp pain, moving across my head and I could hear a buzzing and ringing sound in my head which was so inwardly loud, that the radio faded into the background. The bedroom was supercharged in a field of electromagnetic energy, which washed over me like a wave of water on the ocean. It swept across the whole of my body and I felt myself begin to rise off the bed and I did not want to go. I grabbed hold of the radiator and held on with all the strength I could muster.

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My body floated at the height of the radiator, in a field where gravity ceased to exist. I could still see the white light in the sky and managed to look over at Mum, who was awake, but lay motionless in bed. I was being moved toward the windows and time had stopped, so the whole moment was surreal. In my mind, I shouted out to whoever was responsible for this intrusive abduction, to release me as I was not ready to go with them. The light above the house vanished, as though someone had flipped a switch, causing my body to fall back down onto the bed. The whole of my body was burning up and sweat poured off me and my head throbbed. It felt like it had been hit with a hammer. I lay on the bed for no more than a few seconds, before dragging myself off it in an awkward fashion, to reach the windows. I looked out of the window, my eyes desperately searching the dark sky, for the source of light that had shone down on the roof of the house but found nothing. Disappointed, I walked back over to the bed in a trance without speaking to Mum and she never spoke to me, which, looking back at this experience now, would seem odd behaviour considering what had just occurred. Eventually I drifted off to sleep. The following day, I stood on the back doorstep of the house, eating my cornflakes out of a blue china bowl, looking across at the large school playground. My thoughts, of course, focused on the events of the night before. After finishing the last of the cereal, I walked back into the kitchen, where Mum stood at the kitchen sink, peeling some potatoes with a vegetable knife. I asked her if she had seen the bright light above the house last night and she told me she had. She said, in a calm voice, that she heard a strange buzzing and witnessed me being lifted from the bed and wanted to help me, but found she was unable to move, as her body was paralysed. She could hear a voice in her head, telling her not to interfere and go to sleep. It is highly probable that when my body fell back onto the bed, that an abduction had already taken place. The greys do not just turn up with the intention to abduct a person and then leave if the abductee says no. It doesn’t work like that. You will go with them despite not wanting to. Over the years I did not question this and now suspect a screen memory had been put into place, which is convenient for those who took me. *** 72

CHAPTER 14: CLASSROOM ENCOUNTER After covertly removing Dad’s master key from off the hook in the corner of the kitchen, whilst he lay sleeping on the settee in the dining room, I took it and hurried out from the house in the direction of the stone staircase which I would normally walk down. But today I decided to use the dark green handrail to slide down on, carefully avoiding the prickly stems protruding from the rose bushes that were on the grassy embankment, as a prick from a thorn is no fun. I raced towards the area of the school, where the infant classrooms were located and even in the daytime the interior of the school haunted me. As I walked briskly through the school hall, I remembered how creepy it felt, especially in the evening when the sun went down, and how often I had run through there, terrified my invisible pursuers would catch me. At last, I reached year two’s classroom. After opening the door with the master key, I pushed it all the way back to the wall in case someone was standing behind it, ready to pounce on me. For a moment I stood in the entrance, before walking slowly into the room. The classroom was comprised of two levels. The top half had an indoor toilet, opposite to it, was a small play area full of toys, kept neatly in coloured plastic containers, as well as toys left scattered over the carpeted floor. There was a small library inside the play area, which had a square-shaped window above it. The teacher who was a lovely Irish lady, would put mats down on the floor for the young children to lay upon, whilst she read from one of the children’s books on the shelf, the kids listened avidly and drank milk from small glass bottles, through plastic straws. When finished, they were encouraged to take a nap before home time. In the centre of the play area stood a red and yellow wigwam, located next to a brown piano. It was identical to the one in the main hall. A white, wooden frame, topped with a polished Mahogany finish, ran around the upper half of the classroom, which could be accessed by means of a small set of steps. The lower floor was laid with blue tiles and had large windows on the farside of the classroom that looked out onto part of the large playground 73

and toilet block, as well as red, pink, white and yellow roses in full bloom. The teacher would sit on a blue, swivel chair in front of a tall table, which had a grey, coated top and grey metal legs. On the wall behind her were two large blackboards and various coloured chalks, along with a heavy wooden board duster to wipe away the chalk marks. I can remember when Dad was locking the school up, I would kneel on a chair and draw on the blackboards, making chalk pictures of flying saucers coming from the moon and when I heard Dad coming I quickly wiped the pictures off, so he would not see. Running alongside, was a tall, white wooden folding door that allowed access to the classroom next door but was hardly ever used. The children were seated at a table, similar to the teacher’s, only smaller and they sat on hard, grey, plastic chairs. In the centre of the room was a light brown wooden set of drawers, used for storing art paper. On top was a specially designed farm, created by of the children’s mums who happened to be a school governor. Below one of the windows was a Belfast sink and workstation. Long, white, fluorescent tube lighting provided illumination in the autumn and winter months. The windows had cream roller blinds that could be moved up or down by a cord hanging off to the side. I stood looking into space in a trance-like altered state and like so many times before, the classroom began to change in an energetic fashion. If any other person had walked in and seen me standing here staring, unless they themselves were sensitive to such energies, they would not be aware of the atmospheric electrical charge in the air. The walls around me fell away, and I came face-to-face with an infamous, classical grey creature, as I like to refer to them. Despite it being different in appearance, including having a huge head, long neck on a skinny body with equally long, thin, arms, it is always the eyes, those huge, black, soulless eyes that captured my attention. Had this been the real reason I risked getting ‘brained’ by Dad to respond to a telepathic command from the greys? There was no logical reason for me to take myDad’s master key, nor the urgency to rush to the infant’s classroom at the far end of the school. The grey had been here all along, watching me, only at the time I was unable to see it, until the inter-dimensional doorway had been unlocked. (I should explain that the term, ‘brained’, is a slang term for punished). 74

I had been psychically driven by the greys, to act in this manner and go to this chosen location. And although I was being controlled, some small part of me was aware that a trap had been laid for me and this is the reason I was cautious when opening the door and walking into the classroom. We stood looking at each other, like two cowboys getting ready to draw their revolvers from their holsters in a gun fight. The greys never turn up without a reason; they always have a plan of action and a window of opportunity to abduct their intended target. The grey disappeared and at that moment, it dawned upon me the abduction had already taken place and I was being returned. Decades later, I had an out of body experience where I found myself in the school hall and it was at night, because I could see through the windows. The hall was devoid of any light and there was someone with me, who I felt was Sean. I was holding a brown, rugby ball which I placed in the centre of the hall. In the far corner were a grey and a MIB who stood watching me. The person, whom I believe was Sean, ran as fast as he could into the infant’s section and I had an urgency to escape from the hall as well. I was very aware of my environment because I had been in the school hall from my childhood.

This is how the classroom looks today

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I ran out of the hall through the two brown swing doors which lead to the spot where Sean and I had, decades earlier, as children, had a close encounter with the UFO. Was I returning to the scene of the crime and seeing what had been previously hidden? The ship and tall, white grey were both linked together and perhaps the MIB arrived on the scene to manage the screen memory and keep the abductees (or eyewitnesses) in check, and, if necessary, silence them.

***

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CHAPTER 15: CHRISTMAS EVE It was Christmas Eve and the atmosphere in the house was one of preparation and excitement. Being born into a strict, Irish Roman Catholic environment meant a lot of time was spent at the Church. When Sean and I were a little older, he was picked to be an altar boy, because he had a voice of an angel and that later served him at Secondary School, where he was chosen by the headmaster, to sing in the prestigious choir. I, on the other hand, was picked out to be a guard and was required to dress in a bright red tunic, with gold embroidery and buttons, red tights and black shoes, along with a plastic sword secured inside a scabbard, that hung on my left hip. I never wanted to play this part and felt embarrassed every time I, along with the rest of the young boys, were forced to wear it and parade around the streets like a miniBeefeater, on a makeshift catwalk, around the Tower of London. Mum was in the kitchen preparing the family meal, plus extra food for the evening. She was an exceptionally skilled cook and could make anything, and I loved her roast dinners on a Sunday, although now I am a vegetarian so no more meat for me. Mum baked delicious Irish bread, as well as sponge cakes that were soft and had a strawberry centre with cream. Her Christmas cakes were mouth-watering to look at and tasted delightful. She topped the cake with plenty of icing and decorated it with a red and gold ribbon wrapped about the centre. On the top of it was a snowman, pine trees and figures playing with snowballs. Dad was checking the drinks cabinet, making sure it was stocked with the correct drinks for their friends, who included priests, who might drop-by for a chat and a whiskey. The Irish parish priests loved a drink like the next person and were often drunk, especially whilst saying mass, but this was never frowned upon in the local Irish community, but more seen as a moment of amusement. Christmas carols could be heard filling each room of the house, they were on vinyl albums by Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and played on the deck of a 1970’s Stereogram. The music added something special to the allure of Christmas Eve. When the night finally came around, Sean and I went upstairs to brush our teeth and then said our prayers and went to bed. 77

Francis and Kevin had already gone out for the night with their friends and Mum and Dad were downstairs getting ready for the evening ahead. The door to our room had been left slightly open, allowing the light from the landing to enter the room, offering us its reassuring glow. I was lying on my right-hand side facing the slightly open door of our bedroom and was fully aware if anyone walked up the stairs. After a brief time had passed, I heard my parents' best friends arrive. Mum and Dad left us upstairs whilst they accompanied their friends to the church, to hear the Midnight Mass. After the service had ended, they all arrived back at the house to celebrate Xmas Eve. I was super excited, because it was Christmas the next day and I would be opening my presents with Sean. As I lay in bed staring into the open hallway, I suddenly became aware of odd sounds coming from my parent’s bedroom and at first I could not make out what this was, but as I listened carefully it was clear that the sounds were footsteps. Someone or something was pacing up and down in the room. Who could this be? No one had ventured up the stairs because I would have seen them. I could hear my parent’s voices and those of their friends from downstairs, chatting and laughing. I turned over to see if Sean was awake, but he was sleeping and despite several attempts to wake him by nudging him with my elbow, he would not wake up. Turning back now towards the bedroom door, I heard the front doorbell ring and the sound of my Dad opening the door to greet their visitor. I am certain that the intelligence behind the footsteps knew that I was awake and listening, as every now and again the steps would stop and then resume, it was taunting me, creating fear and psychological terror, because whatever was in the room, did not belong there. It sought to paralyse my senses into submission. My eyes were fixed on my parents’ bedroom door and were burning a hole through the door, to see what was on the other side. I was thinking, “should I get up and peek to see who was pacing the floor?’” In the end, the quest to overcome my initial hesitation and fear, prompted me to pull back the bedcover slowly and ever-so quietly, tiptoe out of the bedroom door, pausing on the top of the landing, to listen to the adults downstairs. The door was half-open and as my right hand reached for the handle to push it further open and walk-in, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks by an overwhelming sensation that forced me to return to bed, so I did. 78

One of the Christmas presents Mum and Dad had bought for Sean and me, was a square tabletop pool table, which was covered with a maroon cloth top. This was wrapped up and sat on top of the wardrobe in the corner of the room, beside the big bed. The strange steps could be heard once again, only this time they did not emanate from inside my parent’s bedroom, but, more worryingly from the end of our bed. I was stricken with panic and pulled the bedcover over my head, because I did not want to see whoever was lurking at the rear of the bed, despite knowing deep within that I had seen it many times before. I listened from below the covers as the pacing stopped and was now replaced with a shuffling sound. The unknown terror was moving closer to me, slowly, very slowly, knowing full well my young mind was fearful and my body trembling. The intelligence wanted this and did not care that I was a child. It was a predator, a non-human predator feeding off the soul of an innocent young boy, to satisfy its hunger. A soulless creature, a parasite which walks the earth in the day and hunts at night. I was going to be taken away and there was nothing I could do to stop this spiritual assault and abduction. Why did my parents never come to save me, or put a stop to these attacks, and why didn’t Sean wake up? I felt so alone in all of this and had no one to confide in, and even if I did, what would I tell them, no one would believe a child. The doctor would have me committed and the priest would tell me stories about burning in hell. I could not tell the priest I had spent a long time in Hades in the underworld and it is nothing like the Church says it is. That is another book altogether. My eyes moved from below the sheets, in the direction of the muffled sound and waited for whatever was going to defile me or consume me. My eyes were closed tightly now, as I knew this intelligence was standing right beside me and I could feel its eyes fixed on me hiding, beneath the fragile protection of my bedcover. Being a child, I believed that a flimsy piece of sheet covering me, would stop an attack or abduction, but of course this is foolish. The bedcovers were abruptly pulled back and a cool breeze swept over me, my young body was shaking, as I felt the presence of this creature standing over me, satisfied with its prey. I wanted to peek out but did not dare not look up at it. Something touched the lower part of my right thigh and I do not know what the object was, as I could not see it. But if I were asked to describe the energetic blueprint of this unknown object, as a 79

young boy it felt like a long, chocolate toffee wrapped in yellow paper, like the brand called ‘Quality Street’, and yet I knew it was not this. Opening my eyes, it was now morning and the memory of the night was still fresh in my mind, so much so, that I immediately threw back the bedcovers from the double bed. The covers now lay in a twisted pile on the floor, as I pulled up my pyjama leg to examine my right thigh, only I could not see anything on it. I turned my attention to the bed, frantically searching for what I believed at the time was a Quality Street chocolate toffee. Sean was on the opposite side of the bed and looked over at me with a puzzled expression on his face, he asked, “What are you looking for Michael?” I did not look back at him, but simply said, “The sweet that touched my leg last night”, Sean stared at me, not sure how to respond to my answer. When he spoke again, he said, “It’s Christmas day, let’s go downstairs and open our presents”, but I was not interested in opening presents, I only wanted to find this sweet, not to eat it, but to prove something had happened to me during the night. I knew with all my being it had not been a dream, something happened that could not be explained rationally. My inner senses were standing up and yelling out, “Michael do not ever forget”. Like so many other high strange events, locating this sweet was becoming more like a ‘mission impossible’ as it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Eventually I joined Sean downstairs in the dining room; our presents were wrapped and placed in the corner of the room. Sean had already pulled away the Christmas wrapping paper from a large present that was a bright yellow Raleigh Chopper MK 1 1970’s model bike, with chrome handlebars, a long, black ‘L bucket Drag Star’ saddle with a white strap folded over it, with it, a warning written upon it, informing the rider not to carry any other passenger and a five short-thrust split-T bar and red trimmed black tires. Sean would later add a 1970’s, silver metal airbugle, black rubber bulb horn to the handlebars, and a Berec (British Eveready) 1970’s grey plastic front lamp, with a clip and a tail-lamp with a red plastic glass. I felt sad over the Christmas holiday and wanted to die. No one knew what was happening to me and even if they did, what could they do? Nothing, that’s right, not a thing! 80

If you, the reader, are wondering if the experience or familiarity of seeing these creatures repeatedly got easier with time, from my position, it never did. Did my fear originate from knowing they looked so different to me, or could it be because of what they did to me, and other children like me? I have in the past been told by New Age folk, who have never experienced abduction by non-human intelligences, that the fear stems from being a child and of course this is partly true, but on the flipside of the coin, the adult abductee also experiences fear and terror at the hands of the greys. The paradox here is that the adult abductee is also the child abductee from the past and is experiencing both elements of terror. The greys do not randomly take an adult, because they abduct from childhood and continue to take the same person as a teen, young adult, and into maturity. They are interested in ancestral bloodlines and move through specific families, that have been marked like cattle. What I mean by this is that if you were taken centuries ago by this race and then reincarnate back here, you will be taken again. The entire process of Alien Abduction is by no means a simple subject, nor is it black or white. The subject is far more complicated, and the individual abductee is at the centre of the mystery. Children are like animals, in that they are innocent and have excellent intuitive abilities or an inner knowing, of who they can trust. I suspect they can understand, or decode body language, as well as seeing the human biochemical field, before they are indoctrinated into using the leftbrain, which locks the brain into illusion and becomes their prison. The greys are a deceptive race and come like thieves in the night and a good example of this can be taken from the New King James Version (Matthew 7:15-20) ‘You Will Know Them by Their Fruits’ “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.” Could this be the reason they use screen memories? *** 81

CHAPTER 16: STEP FORWARD

After leaving my body, I found myself floating above my childhood home looking skywards at the stars. I decided to venture out further and explore the hidden depth of the night sky. It felt amazing having the freedom to fly like an owl. I did not see anyone or anything above or below me, nor experience any type of atmospheric sensations around me, but then, from out of nowhere, a blazing bright white light shot across the sky above me and began to head along my flight path. As the light travelled closer, I could see it was saucer-shaped and silver. The craft started to descend and landed in the road outside of my house in St. Mark Street. I watched from above as a door opened and a ramplike device came out from below the opening, allowing two humanoid beings to step out from the craft. I wanted to get a closer look and flew down as a group of people started to gather in the street. Pushing myself through a hoard of men and women, I apologised repeatedly until reaching the front. The two beings were male and wore identical, brown uniforms with a hood. I never noticed any type of insignia on the uniforms. One of the two spoke and addressed the assembly of people now gathered. He said that they had a list of names that would be called out and to step forward if your name is called. Each person must step forward, then enter the craft. People from all ethnic groups and ages were called and walked up the ramp past the two beings, who resembled humans, and entered the ship. My name was called and like the others before me, I stepped up and was led into a room within the ship. The next thing I knew I woke up in my bed and it was the morning. I wonder where we all went. All those people I saw were like me and were outside their bodies; they were also abductees. They had been called to this spot, by beings that had come from a future earth. A few days later, when I had been meditating in the large school playground, I had a bright, white light flash in the centre of my head and after a few minutes my mind was filled with colour images, that flashed through my mind at a tremendous speed. They consisted of all nations and all areas across the earth; North America, South America, United 82

Kingdom, Africa, Malta, China, France, Israel, Italy, Spain, Russia, Tibet, and Antarctica. Two years later I had an identical experience, but on this occasion, I could hear a male voice speaking to me in a foreign language and then a second male voice spoke and said that he would function as my translator. He spoke of a future time and the role specific nations would play. Specific human beings would be lifted off from the earth, by huge ships above the earth. The voice spoke of a war that would be fought in the Middle East and non-humans would be present on the battlefield, side-by-side with humans fighting a common enemy. He said that more information would be given to me when I was asleep. (Just to be clear here, I do not put any significance on any information pertaining to what could be deemed a Third World War andIam not in any way a contactee). I merely present to you, the reader, with an experience I had. I will leave it to you to decide what it meant. ***

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CHAPTER 17: HIDDEN UNDERWATER CITY

There were times I found myself outside of the body and at first; I was unable to see myself, until my astral eyes opened. I flew high in the sky and as I looked down, could see a vast expanse of water and decided to investigate. I swam below the water and observed several types of marine life. It felt like one aspect of me was separated from the other and this other part was in possession of the flight plan and mission objective. In my waking life, I have a phobia related to being under water, but whilst active in this altered state the fear is diminished. I feel this fear may originate from various sources; two of which are this lifetime and one from a past lifetime. I swam for a short way into the depths of the unknown. It was then I could just make out some type of structure coming up ahead of me. It looked like an ancient city that had once existed above the water but had been destroyed and sunk to the ocean floor. The city looked magnificent, despite its time beneath the water. I felt a presence in the vicinity of the city, like I was being watched. Standing on the ocean floor, try as I might, I could not catch a glimpse of myself. There were artefacts scattered across the ocean floor and a marble pillar lay on its side broken in half. There were a set of white steps; leading up to the doors at the top, with white pillars either side which were intact. I walked into this huge opening, and found myself in a magnificent room, that was untouched by time. The odd part was despite being under the water; the inner temple room was not. In the centre of this magnificent, white, marble room stood a very striking gold statue of a Goddess. I walked past the statue towards a wall where I stood for a moment and watched, as a blazing, white light appeared in front of me. The light was intelligent and aware of my presence. It invited me to enter the illuminated space, which I did, granting me access to the real city. The light had been a Stargate. I returned to my sleeping body and retained the memory. *** 84

CHAPTER 18: THE HOODED ONE One night, after everyone had gone up to bed, I decided to check the house in case there was someone hiding, but I could not find anyone. Throughout the day I had experienced a feeling of apprehension, and at night this emotion was amplified. I walked into the kitchen and from the cupboard took out an orange, plastic beaker which I filled with Tree Top orange juice using the white lid and added water to dilute it. (This drink was popular when I was a child). On a Friday night, I would pour orange juice into an ice cube container and leave overnight in the freezer to set, then the next day, I would rise early from bed and sit eating them with a fork in front of the TV watching children’s programs like ‘Tiswas’ (an acronym of Today is Saturday, Watch and Smile”) which aired from January 5th, 1974, to 3rd April 1982. I took the beaker and switched off the kitchen light and the downstairs lights, before making my way up the darkened stairs. My eyes had always been strong in the dark, but on this night, I should have left the light on over the stairs. As I turned the corner on the staircase, I experienced a sensation, like a static charge rush over my whole body. I got the fright of my life, when I suddenly came face-to-face with a figure dressed in a brown robe, with a deep-set hood hung over its head to obscure the face. The orange beaker fell out of my right hand, as I reeled back in shock. The figure before me resembled a monk, only because of the clothing it wore. I wanted to run past it up the stairs to my bedroom, but it blocked my path. It had its head lowered in a menacing way, but then it began to slowly raise it, until I was able to see the face under the hood. At first, all I could see was a darker than dark void of nothingness staring back at me, causing my soul to freeze. But then, I noticed and I am not certain if it was because the figure turned its head in a specific way, or because it wanted me to get a better look at it, that it had large, black eyes hidden beneath the hood. The creature was disguised as a monk and the moment I saw its face, it vanished, prompting me to flee up the stairs faster than an express train.

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I was restless and on edge the remainder of the night, unable to sleep. I never slept well in that house of horrors, house of secrets and my childhood home. The very next day I mentioned this to encounter to Mum and Dad. I thought the hooded figure was the spirit of a monk, but now I suspect it had been a wretched grey. ***

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CHAPTER 19: SPRING HEELED JACK

One wintery night in 1976, I had not long stepped out from the bath and wrapped myself up in a warm, purple towel that was hanging over the radiator in my parents’ bedroom. Whilst standing close to the windows, I suddenly felt uneasy, like I was being watched from the other side of the glass. I pulled up the white net curtain over my head and looked out into the dark night, my eyes frantically searching for the energetic signature that had burned into the field around my body. After a moment, I became aware of an odd-looking figure staring down at me, from the top of the school roof. Without any warning, the figure jumped from the school roof and landed on the garage roof. In one leap it was able to cover a considerable distance so effortlessly and land on its feet, without causing injury to itself. At first, I thought this figure was that of a man, but now I suspect it originated from somewhere else, but why was it here? More importantly, why did it allow me to see it? I continued to stare at it from the bedroom window and discovered I was unable to move, but instead, was rooted to the floor. The familiar sound of Dad and Sean in the backdrop of the house vanished, as though a dial had been turned and the volume turned down. The creature began to slowly turn its body to allow me to get a better look at it. I could see now it was wearing a dark cape or wings on its back and its eyes were on fire, a blazing inferno of redness. Was this mysterious creature here in our reality and standing atop of the roof of the garage or had I somehow ripped a hole through the fabric of time and space? Time had come to a complete stop and, for a moment, ceased to exist, at least in the space I now inhabited. I cannot say for sure if this event was happening in the here-and-now, or another dimension. I wonder what it was thinking, as we stared at one another. Was it reading my mind? The creature eventually broke eye contact with me and raised its arms, it was like a bird. I caught a glimpse of its hands and they had claws.

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With one giant leap, it flapped its wings and jumped across to a building on the far side of the school grounds and perched on the roof, looking down towards me and then it was gone. A familiar sound in the background beckoned me back to the bedroom and I was now able to move my body again. I did not mention this experience to my parents straight away, not until later in life. When I was nineteen, I stumbled across stories like mine that involved the figure of a man with wings who terrorised people. During 1837 in Victorian London, a strange entity appeared who was reported to have been responsible for attacks on local females, who became hysterical when confronted by this figure. Victims and eyewitnesses described the entity as being tall and having pale features, as well as hands with razor sharp claws. Those who had caught a glimpse of it and those who had been terrorised, all reported that the eyes were a fiery red colour. He wore a helmet, a black cape and a tight-fitting garment. The figure would attack women by lying in wait and ambushing them by jumping out on them. He used chisel-sharp claws to rip away their clothes, tearing them to shreds, as the victims fled in terror from the unknown assailant. Eyewitnesses said the figure breathed out blue and white flames and escaped all attempts by the police, to capture him by scaling large walls and over houses. On October 4th, 1888, Police investigating the notorious Jack the Ripper murders in the East-End of London received a letter. It was one of several purporting to be from the killer, but this one was different. It was signed, “Spring Heeled Jack”, The Whitechapel Murderer. Unlike the Ripper, Spring Heeled Jack, despite his activities, did not appear to be a killer, at least not intentionally. There are pockets of synchronicity playing out here for me, in that I was born in the very same district of East London where Jack the Ripper struck. One of the last victims of the now infamous Jack the Ripper, was Francis Cole aged 32, a prostitute who worked in the East End of London; a lady of the night. She was discovered under an iron railway arch, between the Royal Mint and Chamber Street. Dad was the caretaker at the old school located in Chamber Street, which was opposite the iron arch bridge where the Ripper’s last victim was discovered. 88

I can recall always feeling uneasy walking past this very spot and at the time did not know why. It was only whilst writing this, did I discover the history of the site. In 1877, the infamous Spring Heeled Jack character appeared at the Aldershot Barracks. It was challenged by a sentry on night duty at the North Camp, as he watched a strange figure advancing to his position. Spring Heeled Jack ignored the soldier and got close enough to slap the guard across the face. A second soldier appeared and fired a shot at the figure to no effect and he vanished into the night with incredible bounds. Lord Ernest Hamilton’s 1922 memoir, ‘Forty Years On’, mentions the exploits of Spring Heeled Jack and stipulates that the 1877 sighting and attack on the soldier on guard duty, occurred in the winter of 1879 after his regiment, the 60th Rifles, had relocated to Aldershot. He said similar attacks happened when the regiment was barracked at Colchester in the winter of 1878. The attacks reached such an elevated level of high alertness and panic, that soldiers were armed with live ammunition and ordered to shoot at “the night terror” on sight. A little while later the strange figure vanished, never to return to this site. Like so many other legendary creatures, Spring Heeled Jack appears to get around a lot, unless of course there was more than one? I would like to add the next stories which are taken from the investigative files of M.J. Wayland, who is a No1 bestselling writer, researcher and historian who specialises in ghosts, the supernatural and other Fortean subjects. He stumbled upon the following stories after meeting with an eyewitness, who claimed to have seen a UFO. The witness spoke about the “Prowler” of Westbury Street, “When we moved into our house in 1973, our neighbours told us to be careful at night, because there had been trouble with a prowler. He had banged on windows, punched men, and grabbed a hold of women. ‘We were also told this was the reason that police cars were parked at the end of the road. One night I was coming back from town with my new boyfriend, when we saw a dark figure slip into one of the alleyways that caused us to be cautious and we decided to walk in the middle of the road. Slowly, we walked past the alleyway, at which time we noticed two, bright red circles, they came closer, then we realised it was his eyes.

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‘We began to run and my boyfriend felt something hit his back, he turned around and lying on the floor was a pitchfork type tool, like a hay fork, he picked it up, then we ran back home. We contacted the police and a Detective Constable, Trevor Bassendale, came and took away the fork for evidence’. The witness’s father then decided to tell his story, “I always remember one night we heard laughter coming from our attic, we also heard banging and shouting. Reluctantly, I had a look. The attics of the terraced houses of Westbury Street were not cordoned off and somehow the prowler had got into the attics, there were five more people chasing after him across the beams. I always remember that one of them put his foot through our next-door neighbours ceiling, the strange thing is though, that the prowler ran across the ceilings without crashing through.

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‘This lasted for about half hour, the prowler laughed all the time’. M.J. Wayland asked the father if he could describe this strange character and he replied, saying, ‘He was at least six feet six inches and dressed in black, he also had a black cape that night, but his face I cannot remember just those burning red eyes. He was the Devil’. Much later, Wayland received a phone call from a gentleman who lived in Westbury Street, Attercliffe, Sheffield in the 1970’s, who wanted to report a UFO. After he had asked him if he knew anything about a prowler, the man told Wayland. “Oh, you mean him that ran up the side of the buildings. It was around the mid-seventies we moved to a road off Broughton Lane. (the next road along). ‘They were nice, small houses, overlooking Attercliffe and Westbury Street. Our next-door neighbour was a lovely old woman. A real salt of the earth type and not the kind to believe in the paranormal. One day she came around to our house quite shaken, when we asked what was up, she said that she had seen the prowler. ‘The night before she was looking over Attercliffe, looking towards the Steel Works when she saw a figure “jumping” across the roof tops. At first, she thought it was a thief running away from the police, but then she noticed he was jumping huge distances, sometimes twenty to thirty feet, this scared her. This lasted for about five minutes, until she watched him walk down the side of a pub’s wall and into the scrap yard’. I decided to ask the witnesses what had happened to the prowler? Both told the following story, “One night, the police had followed him from Woodburn Road across the rooftops; as usual he was laughing and dancing, goading the police. Two coppers went after him across the roofs, but he ran down the side of the buildings on Arris Street. He then went into the yard of Dexel Tyres (still standing) and that is where the police surrounded him in the back room. The police got the order to get him then the prowler disappeared. There was no trace of him at all. We never saw him again. Detective Constable Trever Bassendale told us never to mention it to anyone, which we have not up until now and we now know he has died’. I would like to extend my thanks to M.J. Wayland for allowing me to use the above narrative for my book. ***

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CHAPTER 20: OUT OF BODY CALL OUT

On this night I fell into a deep sleep, when normally it takes me a long time to settle and drop off. When I opened my eyes, I found myself outside of the body and standing next to the bed looking at my sleeping physical body. I turned away and walked towards the windows and easily moved through these, then descended to the ground. My etheric self-stood with my back facing the kitchen door and my eyes were fixed on the night sky above the year four’s classroom roof, the very same location where I had seen the infamous Spring Heeled Jack. Suddenly, a large, silver saucer floated in complete silence over the roof, the craft had no lights, it was probably a smaller vehicle that had come out of a huge, mothership. The scout craft manoeuvred silently towards the large tree that stood close to the garage on the right of me, until it was literally hanging over the rooftop of my childhood home. Whoever was inside of this craft had been responsible for putting me into a deeper sleep, which enabled me to leave my physical body in order to meet with them. (This is a method which is used on abductees and I have experienced this many times). I floated up towards the center of the craft and as far as I remember, entered the ship. My next memory is of standing in the same spot outside of the backdoor of the kitchen and watching the craft move off into the distance along the same flight path it had come from, until it was no longer visible to me. I returned to my body. What I find interesting when looking back at this experience, is why I did not go after it. I could have easily done this because I was outside of my body. The only explanation I have is either the occupants of the craft prevented me from doing so, or, whatever took place inside of the craft did not please me and I was happy for it to be over. ***

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CHAPTER 21: MUM & DAD I find it hard speaking about my parents, because if the truth be known I never knew who they were and for me that is gut-wrenching. My Mum and Dad were both secretive and at one time I thought this was odd, but many children raised during the 1970’s whose parents lived through the Second World War, found that their parents did not say much. It is believed that alien abduction is multi-generational, in that one of the child abductees parents will also be an abductee and in my case, this was my Mum. She like me was a sensitive but did not speak about her ability and there may have been many reasons why, but one would have been because she was a Roman Catholic and feared retribution from the unholy Church of Rome. I am not certain what age she was when, like so many other youngsters, she was evacuated during WW2 to a location in the British countryside. In her case, she was sent off to stay in Hereford. Mum told me once she slept in an outbuilding or barn. Once, in the early hours of the morning, she awoke from her sleep, with a jolt and had been afraid and did not understand why. She sat up in the single bed and fixed her eyes on the end of the bed, because she sensed something was there. Suddenly a head rose from beneath the end of the bed and Mum was unable to move, so any chance of escape was now dashed. Mum said whatever it was, it was not human and it had a big head with huge black eyes. It stood silently staring at her and she stared back, until the room faded into the background, along with this creature. Mum closed her eyes and when she opened them again, it was now morning and she was greeted by a cow poking its head through the barn door, mooing. So, somewhere in-between the lines, she had lost time. A part of her life had now been displaced and yet, the authentic memory of this event would continue to play out below the surface of her mind, just enough to gently skim over her conscious mind.

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If she had been taken by the greys, then it abducted earlier on and most certainly after passed over the barn that night, or could beforehand where she was going? The more more I see what they can do.

is more likely she was this event. Had a ship the greys have known I learn about them, the

Apart from Dad and Uncle Percy (mums brother), I was the only other person she shared this experience with, so perhaps this is the reason why, when Sean and I told them about the sighting of the ship and the encounter with the tall grey in the school hall, they were so casual about it. Did they know? I remember when I was a child, my parents would not let me venture out anywhere on my own and made me stay within the school grounds. But only where they could see me, yet my brothers were treated differently. Were they afraid I might be taken and never returned? If indeed this was the case, what difference could they have made? They never knew when I was being taken, so what could they have done to prevent me from being taken in front of them? We know the greys can switch a person off, take them from a crowded room and return them, without a single person being aware. We humans believe we can control every situation, but there are some things we cannot control, yet it comforts us to believe this lie. Nothing has changed that much, because those of us who are abductees, are for the most part still stigmatised, which is why it is so difficult for us to trust those who have not experienced this, let alone speak openly about it. Mum, like so many of us, must have been so terribly lonely. I do not think Mum understood what was happening to her, but to be fair do any of us? To an extent, this is one of the greater benefits of the internet, because it gave all of us a technological lifeline to find others like ourselves, because before that, we had been searching at the bottom of a pit. None of us are experts and we are always learning about this phenomenon of high strangeness. We do find tiny bits of information, but at times, like implants, they have the tendency to go up in a puff of smoke. I, like many others, am continually searching for answers to that age-old question, why me, why Mum and why you? What sets us apart from the next person?

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The whole phenomena of alien abduction cannot be explained away with a nuts-and-bolts approach, nor through intellect alone, as we must search outside of the box. We must endeavour to dig deeper into the realms of the underworld, and travel to darker places where secrets have been buried, even if it is uncomfortable and taboo. The answers will not be found in a field of fluffiness and rainbows. Sometime during the war, after she had returned from Hereford, mum was put to work at a munitions factory making weapons, including bombs and telecommunication equipment for Lancaster Bombers. One day she was called up to the office upstairs and told she would be promoted to the central office, because she was hard working and intelligent. Today this is not a big deal, but back in the 1940’s it was. Dad had served in the Royal Air Force as an engineer, and as far as I am aware, trained at the Hereford site which is now the home to the British Special Air Service or SAS. He, like so many others who served in the forces, never spoke about this period from his life. Francis told me Dad had been involved in a lot of secret stuff during the war.

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Dad told me that when he lived in digs in London after the war, it ended up that on most nights when he was trying to sleep; his bedcovers were pulled off the bed, by a figure of a woman dressed in grey. He also encountered this grey figure floating down the stairs towards him and did not recall what happened after that. He always maintained it was a ghost, but what else could it have been? It is odd that the figure was grey and he could not remember what happened. I cannot answer this with any certainty, because I was not there, but it is interesting nonethe-less. The plot thickens. The next event with Dad happened during the 1970’s in the school grounds of my childhood home. One evening after the school had closed for the day, he was, like every other day, doing his rounds shutting all the gates and securing each with a brass Chubb padlock. He told me as he approached the infant’s gate, he came face to face with a Roman Soldier who seemed to be standing on guard duty and seemed unaware of Dads presence and after a few more seconds vanished. I am in no doubt that Dad stumbled upon this lone Roman Soldier because the whole area surrounding my childhood home is a part of the East London Roman Cemetery in the Borough of Tower Hamlets. It is believed my childhood house was built over the site of a Leper’s Cemetery. The North side of Prescott Street, which is, depending on how fast you walk, two minutes away from the school grounds and was the site of an archaeological evaluation in 2006 and a dig in 2008. It is believed to be linked with the Sixth Legion of the Roman Army.

***

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CHAPTER 22: SPIRITUAL AWAKENING

After everything that had taken place within the confines of my childhood and the beginning of my teen years, enough was enough and it was at this point, that I decided to discover what was happening to me. So, one day, I visited the local library in Whitechapel high street and walked through a maze of books, standing in rows on the brown, wooden shelves, each of them calling out to me to pick them up. I was only looking for books on the paranormal and UFOs and I searched high and low, as well as checking through the brown wooden drawers, containing reference cards, which were in alphabetical order, but still I could not see anything that remotely came close to what I was searching for. This was extremely frustrating. Eventually I happened upon a paperback book authored by the late British medium, Doris Stokes. I picked it up glancing over the front cover, before turning it over to examine the back of the book. Opening the book, I smelled its pages, which I guess is equivalent to a connoisseur of wine. Scientists believe readers like to conduct this ritual, because the pages contain a vanilla-ish scent that is pleasing. I flicked through a few pages and decided to take it back home with me. The book was titled “Voices in my Ear” which was her first book. Doris speaks about how she discovered her extraordinary gift and the visitations from her long dead father. Doris May Fisher Stokes, born Doris Sutton in January 1920 and who passed into spirit on May 8th, 1987, was a British spiritualist psychic medium who communicated with the spirit world. I enjoyed reading her book as it helped put a few of my thoughts into perspective. Her words also offered me comfort and gave me a brief respite away from the high strangeness I encountered daily. I welcomed this pleasant distraction and considered it a gift. After finishing the book, I returned it to the library and searched for similar books by the same author and was not disappointed, as I found another treasure, a paperback titled “More Voices in my Ear”.

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I also discovered a similar book by the late British medium Ivy Northage, born 10th July 1909, and returned to spirit on 31st March 2002. Ivy was a teaching trance medium, who channelled her spirit guide Chan. Many of her students went on to be accomplished platform mediums and trance mediums. She taught at SAGB, “Spiritualist Association of Great Britain” in London, England and at the College of Psychic Studies. Ivy spoke of the spirit world, a realm where we have travelled from and have been many times in the past. She said no one dies, because what we perceive to be the end is nothing more than a change of clothes. We simply take one suit off and put another back on. Each soul inhabits a different environment that is much more refined then the one we have left behind. I always knew that life existed outside of the body and death was an illusion, but at the time was not able to articulate or put it into words that would mean anything. I knew my inner knowledge originated from a place that knew me so well. Being a child and teen who was experiencing both paranormal encounters and alien abduction, along with other topics that fall within the realm of high strangeness, I desperately needed to know what was going on in my life. The left-side of the brain condemned me to madness, whilst the right whispered to me that I was sane and that if I persevered, the answers would eventually be forthcoming. It often felt as though some evil force had sought me out, from the moment I arrived back here travelling through the Stargate of my mother’s womb. I began looking in shops for magazines and found one called “Prediction”, which was the UK’s first Esoteric, Astrological and Horoscope magazine to launch in 1936. One day, when I stepped out to pick up my reserved magazine from the newsagent in Whitechapel Road, I cast my eyes over the assorted magazines on the shelves and noticed a magazine sticking out from behind a science publication. It read “UFO Magazine.” I stood holding it and flicked through the pages and in this moment it felt like I had discovered the Holy Grail. The world back then did not have the means to speak to other like-minded people and I was shocked to discover there were others, like me, out there in the world. 98

UFO Magazine was founded in 1981 by brothers Graham and Mark Birdsall of Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. The magazine highlighted both the UFO phenomena and extra-terrestrial phenomenon. It had an international reputation for its quality and a peak circulation of 35,000. My parents socialised, along with the rest of the community, mostly made up of the Irish, at the community centre in Chamber Street. After Dadpassed over, Mum continued to visit here and meet up with her friends and their families. This was a close-knit group of local people where everyone knew one another. I can recall on one night, Mum told me she had struck up a conversation with a woman who was visiting family in the parish. The woman said she was a spiritualist and medium and enquired about me although we had never met. The woman told Mum that I had the ability to perceive colours around people. The woman said there were others interested in me, which prompted Mum to ask the woman to explain this cryptic statement and she said, ‘from the stars’. Mum told me later that night she had not been surprised by the woman’s comments about me. Mum always teased me and told me I was not from here, whilst Dad had called me the ‘Chinese Orphan’. A few weeks later, I had the opportunity to visit the local Spiritualist Church. Upon arriving outside of the building, it took me a while to enter, as I was not sure what to expect, but it felt like I was being persuaded by spirit to go inside, so I did. A man was seated at the back of the church handing out booklets; he looked to be his late sixties. The gentleman looked over at me, giving me a weary smile, perhaps because I was young and he had not seen me at the church before. I walked over to an empty wooden bench and sat down at the rear of the hall. The interior reminded me of a hall, rather than a Spiritualist Church and was very cold. Did they forget to pay the heating bill, I wondered? Or did spirit communication work better if the hall was cold, in the same manner as a room full of computers? There was a raised platform at the front of the hall, where there was a microphone attached to a metal stand. I sat looking towards the stage with my own thoughts, as did the elderly people who gathered. Suddenly, a woman in her late sixties stepped up onto the platform and introduced herself as the medium who would be communicating with spirit. 99

She said a prayer and then asked for anyone in spirit who wanted to speak to anyone present to step forward. The medium never asked for money, but if anyone wanted to donate, they were welcome to do so. The Roman Catholic Church frowned upon Spiritualism, claiming it was the devil’s work. I was listening to the medium talking, but I kept a low profile with my head downwards, yet despite this, the medium picked me out from the room, which mostly consisting of elderly women and men all looking for proof of survival after death. They also sought hope and comfort, knowing that when it was their time to depart, that the transition would be serene and peaceful. Family and friends who had made this journey long ago would be waiting for them to return home. The medium asked me my name and told me she would not normally say this but was being directed from spirit to tell me. At that moment those sitting on the benches in the front row turned their heads to see who the medium was addressing. She said, “You often feel that your soul is bigger than the body you presently have and you sense that you could topple over”. She paused, then said, “Because it is”. She continued and said thatI would learn about this in later life. I thought it was interesting that she mentioned this, because I have always been aware of it. On the way out of the church I noticed there were various leaflets placed neatly on a small table, as well as a newspaper titled “Psychic News”. The first issue of the paper was published on 28th of May 1932 and it was the oldest weekly newspaper in Britain. The newspaper is now a monthly online magazine. The name of the paper was devised by one of its founding editors, Maurice Barbanell, who was told to use it by his spirit guide. The other founders consisted of Hannen Swaffer, a Fleet Street Journalist and Arthur Findley, a notable figure in the history of Spiritualism in Britain. For many years, the Psychic News maintained a book shop that sold books about spiritualism and psychical research. I picked up a copy of the newspaper and thought it looked interesting, so I purchased a copy to take back home with me. The paper primarily focused on the afterlife, spiritual healing, and mediumship. After reading the first copy, I knew it would not be the last I would read. I noticed that the paper’s publisher had their own bookshop and one day after 100

awakening, I had a strong urge to visit the shop that very day. I took a London underground train and walked the rest of the way to the shop. Arriving I felt slightly nervous about entering the shop and if my memory serves me well, I stood for a short while looking at the books displayed in the window before entering. Why was I so reluctant to go into the shop, it didn’t make sense? After all, it wasn’t like I was going for a job interview. It was clear to me that this phenomenon was somehow a part of me, but at the time I did not know how. I pushed open the door and walked inside, closing the door behind me. It was at this point I looked across at a man sitting at his desk, hard at work. The man momentarily looked up and smiled, he said, please have a look around. I thanked him and continued into the main shop. The shop was well stocked with a sizable number of books written by various authors. Stepping into a shop such as this one, was like walking into a late-night bakery and taking in the unforgettable aroma of fresh baked bread, just after it had been removed from a hot oven. Have you noticed how bread can suddenly transport you back to a special time in your life? Have you ever visited a specific location and you intuitively know you have arrived home? This feeling cannot be articulated by words alone, only experienced, even if the visit is brief, the fact you feel something stir and rise inside you in that moment, indicates that a profound awakening has occurred. Make no mistake; once the inner door to the chamber of secrets is opened, it can never be closed. You can never return to the old world you once knew. The Sleeper will have awakened. One book caught my eye simply because of the title “The Boy Who Saw True” This is what the medium told my mum at the community centre. Picking up the paperback book I turned it over to read what it was about; it was a book based on the diary entries of a young Victorian boy, whose extraordinary talent reveals itself within the pages of the book. The young boy was born with incredible clairvoyant ability. The anonymous author could see auras and spirits and yet failed to realise that other people could not. I did not understand at the time that this was a synchronistic moment and one that had been inspired by spirit, no 101

doubt as events continued to unfold for me in the realms of high strangeness. I took the book up to the man sitting behind the desk and he took it from me and commented on my choice. After paying he told me his name was Tony Ortzan and was the editor of the Psychic Newspaper. Tony Ortzan was the editor between 1981-1992, and again between 2004-2008. Tony is currently the editor for the third time. He asked me what had brought me to the shop, and I relayed my story to him about seeing my dad appear to me not long after he had passed from this world into spirit. Tony told me it sounded like I had the ability to see and hear spirit. He told me a friend of his worked at the famous ‘College of Psychic Studies’ in London, she was a lady called Elizabeth Farrell, who was a psychic medium and teacher. He asked me to leave a landline number, so he could set up a meeting with his friend. I thanked him and set off on foot, heading in the direction of the tube station and whilst walking, I could not help but think I had reached a turning point in my life. We are given pointers and it is up to us if we choose to investigate and accept or decline them. My thoughts were deeply intertwined during those times and I needed more than ever to discover who I was in the scheme of things. A short while after my visit to the Psychic News shop and my chat with the editor, he called me as promised, to tell me he had contacted and spoken with his friend, Elizabeth and told her my story. She agreed to meet me at the College, which is located in South Kensington, London, England. I met her in a private room at the top of a spiral stone staircase, there were framed pictures of people who had once played an important part in the college on the wall and no doubt still visited, in spirit. Elizabeth greeted me and made me feel welcome. She asked me about myself and wanted me to tell her what I had shared with Tony. I never mentioned the abductions by the grey creatures who took me at night, how could I? She told me I did indeed have mediumistic abilities and asked me if I had ever done trance work or felt overshadowed by spirit and I replied that I had. Elizabeth said that I was also able to do ‘automatic writing’ and ‘psychic art’ and I had been a psychic artist in Egypt a long time ago. She told me she would take me on as a private student, which was unheard of at the time. 102

A few days passed and then I received a call from her, she asked how I was and then said that, after much thought, she had decided, because I was still young, that she would wait for me to grow and experience the world, before taking me on has her private student. Of course, I was disappointed at hearing her say this, but accepted her decision and said goodbye. I realised much later during those times, that spirits had been knocking at my door attempting to grab my attention. Spirit guides created the synchronistic encounters in my young life, like etheric breadcrumbs on the ground for me to follow. It is my belief that many of us experience these themes at specific stages in our lives, but our left-brain discards and attempts to decipher an experience or encounter that is so alien that it blinds us, so we miss these windows of opportunity. It is said that spirit communication takes place when the clutter and white noise in the head is stilled and slowed down. This is never an easy task but is possible via meditation. How much richer our lives would become if we were in contact with higher, more refined spiritual beings, who had walked the earth many, many times in the service of humanity. The archangels have communicated to me that they do not judge humans, but allow each person to make their own decisions, be they positive or negative. These angelic beings do not help us until we ask for their assistance and if this is indeed the case, we must endeavour to become much more aware of them. This is not a criticism, only an observation of their divine methodology which they may have to apply under the guidance of natural law passed down to all intelligent, sentient beings, taken from the Latin (Sentient “feeling)” to feel, perceive and sense things or to be aware. ***

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CHAPTER 23: THE CAVE

One night whilst lying in bed, I entered an altered state of consciousness and felt my astral body leaving my physical body. I was now flying skywards. The whole landscape below me was covered in snow-capped mountains. I could not see any sign of people and despite the snow, did not feel cold; in-fact the atmosphere seemed warm. I believe that when my astral body left my physical body, I had been conscious, but somewhere in-between passing through a Stargate, I temporarily lost my awareness and travelled to a different location in an unconscious state. Whatever happened, I was able to come back on-line and soared through the sky like an eagle. I was flying in much the same manner as a bird following the magnetic skyway, but without the traffic lights. What became clear is that I was moving forward toward a specific location, but for what reason? Whilst my physical body lay tucked up in bed, my consciousness was flying about like a wild thing. Now I was moving at incredible speed towards a mountain and began my decent heading into the face of this huge piece of rock. On my approach I could see an opening that looked like an entrance to a cave. I flew into the opening and touched down on what felt like stone beneath my feet. I looked around the cave and could see it was very spacious and silent. My inner voice was telling me to walk in a straight line toward a circle of stones and at the centre of the stones, were pieces of wood, intended for a fire. A flash of light illuminated the inside of the walls of the cave, from where a tall man with brown skin and long, straight hair appeared. His eyes were deep brown and, on his head, sat a crown of eagle feathers. This man was enormously powerful and influential and his energy field emanated strength and deep wisdom and he was obviously a leader. He was familiar to me, but I did not know why? His gaze looked toward the centre of the stone circle and without any warning, the wood ignited, causing flames to rise. The Native American invited me to take a seat beside the fire. I walked into the circle and before I sat down on a stone shaped seat, the man 104

with the eagle headdress, was already seated opposite me. I sensed he was inwardly smiling at me like Yoda to Luke Skywalker. Did he walk across using stealthy footsteps like a ninja, or float or as I suspect, just appear? He told me my future would be full of alien craft and alien life forms from inside the earth and from other dimensions. The teacher told me to fix my eyes on the centre of his forehead and as I did, a beautiful, white, glowing star manifested. I was now back in my body in bed. Later, I returned to the College of Psychic Studies to visit a psychic artist and she told me that a Native American had come through to say he was my spirit guide. The medium said that this guide had been with me a long time and told her to tell me that, just like him, I belonged to an ancient Mystery School called the Great White Brotherhood. The medium told me she could see him opening his right hand to reveal a bright white star, then said the star represented the Brotherhood of the Star of Sirius. I asked the psychic who this guide was, and she replied, “He is known as White Eagle”. Whilst the messages were being communicated to me, the mediums hand was being energetically overshadowed by spirit, to sketch a picture of the guide. When it had been completed and handed over to me, I was amazed to discover the sketch of my guide was the same person I encountered in the cave, high up in the snowy mountains whilst outside of the body. Another interesting synchronicity occurred when the medium told me that White Eagle’s master, had been instrumental in inspiring the signing of the Declaration of Independence and a little while later, I had a vision that involved a silver coin that was spinning and when it stopped, I could see an image of an Eagle imprinted on one side of the coin. Then I was shown a copy of a book authored by the late Manly Palmer Hall, entitled ‘An Encyclopaedia Outline of Masonic Hermetic, Cabbalistic and Rosicrucian Symbolic Philosophy’. In the book it explains that on July 4th, 1776, the Colonial Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, held, behind a locked door, an assembly of men gathered to make a solemn decision that would change the course of the destiny for their country. To break away from the old country and create a new world. And if this plan failed, each person present would die. 105

The men were locked in a debate, on an extremely scorching summer’s afternoon, when, according to an old letter of Thomas Jeffersons, conditions were difficult and the discussion had become violent, when something extraordinary occurred, that was recorded in an old book of colonial speeches: the book is kept secret from the public. In the book it states that a strange man of unknown origins, stood among them, he was slender with large, deep-set eyes and a strange look on his face. No one knew who this man was, or how he managed to get through a locked door nor be seen by those who watched for trouble in the assembly. The man then spoke and said, “They may stretch our necks on all the gibbets in the land; they may turn every rock into scaffold, every tree into a gallows, every home into a grave and yet the words of that parchment can never die. They may pour our blood on a thousand scaffolds and yet every drop that dyes the axe, a new champion of freedom will spring into birth. The words of this declaration will live in this world long after our bones are dust. To the mechanic in his workshop, they will speak hope. To the slave in the mines, freedom”. “Methinks I see the recording angel come trembling up the throne and speak his dread message: “Father. The old world is baptised in blood… man trodden beneath the oppressors’ feet, nations lost in blood, murder, and superstition walking hand in hand over the graves of the victims’… but hark, the voice of God speaks from out the awful cloud: ‘Let there be light again! Tell my people, the poor and oppressed, to go out from the old world… and build my Altar in the New. “As I live, my friends, I believe that to be his voice, yes, were my soul trembling on the verge of eternity… I would still, with the last impulse of my soul… implore you to remember this truth: God has given America to be free… I would beg you, with my last faint whisper, to sign that Parchment for the sake of the millions… who look up to you, for the awful words: ‘You are free.’ It was from those words that the Declaration of Independence was created. After this historical document had been signed, Franklin and Jefferson, as well as Hancock, turned to congratulate this stranger on his impressive speech, but there was no sign of him and the door was still locked. No one saw him leave and no one ever saw him again. 106

Many decades later I would meet the same gentleman who delivered the speech that influenced this historical document which created Freedom and learn about our bond. ***

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CHAPTER 24: COMPLEX-PTSD OF AN ALIEN ABDUCTEE I did not understand at the time, that what was occurring in my young life was wrong, very wrong. I was being taken from my bedroom whilst Sean slept at my side. Mum and Dad were in the bedroom next door. When I called out, Sean never woke up and my parents did not come to check on me when I shouted out. I was left at the mercy of these strange, grey creatures in a state of utter terror. I felt abandoned, cast aside in a pit of despair and nothingness. When I was being visited by the Nordic looking beings, I did not think anything was unusual about this. I mean how many children do? I believed those coming to me came to everyone and it was not until Mum mentioned I had invisible friends that I realised it did not fit into the accepted parameters of everyday life. One part of me believes I experienced more refined contacts with an advanced spiritually orientated race that did not break natural law and did not violate it, or me. My time with them appeared to be both playful and educational; they were teaching me to use the innate abilities which I clearly possessed. One day they stopped coming and the scenes and actors all changed and everything become much more serious and intrusive. I wonder if these humanoid looking beings are shoved out of the way by what appears to be inter-dimensional bullies; in my case the infamous greys. My childhood spiralled downwards into a nightmarish narrative that could easily have come out of the pages of a Stephen King book. I did not want or ask for any of this. When I observed the saucer-type craft in the sky, this was no nuts-and-bolts ship, but was clearly operating from outside of the third dimension. It never dawned on me until much later when focusing in on it, that this was the beginning of the end and all childhood innocence would be lost forever. I experienced missing time and never stopped wondering what happened to me and how this impacted on my life, because their intentions were not a force of good. My childhood home never felt safe and had been a place of intertwining paranormal and other worldly

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activity, which created in me an overwhelming feeling of trepidation and cause for concern. Even though members of my own family had experienced elements of high strangeness, this did not stop them from ridiculing me. It is hard enough when strangers do it, but when it originates from your own blood, the knife cuts deeper. I imagine they pushed their experiences to the back of their minds and continued with their lives, as this was their way of coping and having someone like me around speaking about it was too close to the centre of the truth and kept me on the outer edge. What if we are like butterflies scooped up in a net to be dissected under the microscopic eye of a grey creature, to determine if we qualify to be in their collection? When the abductions were taking place and had become harder to deal with, my young mind broke away and disassociated in order to keep a part of myself safe. I soon came to the realisation that there was no escape for me. If I ran or hid, they would find me. There was not a single soul who could help me, I was alone, cut off and isolated. My young life had become a living hell and any form of happiness began to fade into the background, as a shadow of despair hung over me. When I was at school my mind entered altered states of consciousness in lessons that is until the blackboard duster, which was heavy, landed against the wall with a loud crash and an explosion of coloured, powdery chalk filled the air, forcing me to return to the here and now. My schoolwork suffered because the visitations at night disrupted my sleep. I never gave it that much thought until authoring this book, that I had been experiencing ripples of extreme trauma. I was unable to listen to the music being played on the record player, instead could only hear the needle scratching along the groove of the record creating white noise. The word, trauma, is translated to mean ‘wound’. It can best be defined as being an extreme psychological reaction that occurs when a person is confronted with a highly stressful situation. Most people, including myself, had only been familiar with the term PTSD, which is caused by a single traumatic event. Whilst studying this condition. Judith Herman recognised a more complicated in-depth form of PTSD that manifests from experiencing numerous events over many years. This is now known as Complex-PTSD. 109

After being continuously exposed to repeated trauma for years, the affected individual shuts down both mentally and emotionally as a means of self-preservation and protection from pain. It is like having a faraday cage or shield around you safeguarding you from triggers.

Having Complex-PTSD affects all aspects of your life in ways you cannot imagine. It is always there below the surface, often unseen by others, as it is an invisible condition. You find it harder to trust people and this creates a deeper feeling of separation from others. Sometimes an innocent comment from another person may cause the person to have an unwarranted emotional outburst. Relationships as well as sex and intimacy, are almost destroyed. This disorder makes you become hyper-vigilant, as well as aware of all the surroundings in your immediate location. For me this is so true, because I search the household for intruders during the night-time and scan the night sky. 110

When I am alone and in bed, I must keep the light on as I feel vulnerable and dare not close my eyes until the witching hour between 03:00-05:00 am has passed. Another element we experience is amnesia, which causes blockages in our memories that prevents us from seeing or remembering all the traumatic events. I have a marker memory, spanning decades that is for most parts, clear. The other parts are fragmented and it is these that, in my humble opinion, are partly the cause and effect of Complex-PTSD. Abductees are constantly trying to understand this area of high strangeness that dominates their whole existence. There is not one day you ever forget, because this is not just a single event, but one which continues throughout your entire life. You are always searching for the truth. I have always felt like an outcast and over the years struggled with these hidden encounters thinking I was going mad and was not normal. I was once a victim of this phenomenon, but now I am a survivor of it. I am still fighting through with determination and grit to uncover the truth and learning to push forward, ahead of the psychological and emotional fallout, allowing me to take baby steps to heal. Authoring this book, although being extremely painful, it helped me to understand I was a normal person caught up in a web of intrigue and mystery. The writing allowed me to undergo an inner transformation of sorts by processing each trigger as it is presented to me. For those people that don’t get it, the trauma stems from the approach and covert activities of the greys and their total disregard and lack of awareness of what being a human being means. When they take you by force, because I have never given them my consent to be taken, and when they leave, the abductee is left to pick up the pieces. The greys prefer to conduct their abductions away from prying eyes and rely on the fact that the person will not share their experience, from fear of being laughed at and made to look like a fool. Despite the way the greys look, they share a common denominator among us humans, in that they are deceptively cunning in their understanding of psychological warfare and are able to subdue a person and create the right set of circumstances to isolate the abductee and keep them within their reach in a state of fear.

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I have come a long way in my life to begin to appreciate my self-worth in the world, and even now at my age, I am just learning to build up my self-confidence. This book helped me formulate a plan of action to reach out to both adult and younger abductees, who I have been told are on the rise within the UK. These are a few of the traumatic situations that could cause C-PTSD. Human trafficking and forceful sex trafficking Kidnapping Emotional neglect and abandonment Childhood physical abuse Childhood sexual abuse Growing up in a violent household Death of a parent Domestic abuse War What is not mentioned in the above list is Alien Abduction. The only way to change this is by putting it on the table, for specific healthcare professionals to be made aware of it. More people than ever before in society, now accept, or at least entertain, the possibility that life exists elsewhere other than on the earth and that UFOs are proof of this. Everyone today carries a mobile phone and in the event that they happen to see a strange light in the sky, moving in a way that no conventional known aircraft would be able to. Take a picture or film it and examine the footage later. It is almost certainly shared on social media, allowing others to observe and leave comments, but alien abduction is a different kettle-of-fish altogether. On the flipside of the same coin, alien abduction is still considered a taboo subject and better placed in the ‘twilight zone’ by those outside of the UFO community. 112

People can accept that many of the crafts seen in our skies (and below water) originate from outside of this world, but mention abduction and you will be met with a barrage of laughter and ridicule. Let us begin to demystify it and show health-care professionals that there is a human element at the centre of this phenomenon that urgently needs help. This of course will not be an easy task, but disclosure may not come about in the manner which many think it will. Rather, it will be brought about by pushing open the doors and bringing a greater degree of awareness to those who, at present, have yet to sit up and take notice, so that we can educate and inform others in new ways of thinking. The leading lights in the UFO communities, including investigative researchers and authors, have the experience and knowledge to present case histories to professional people. In my opinion, speaking to the media is a road that will lead to a dead-end, because they are not looking to help or share the truth with a wider audience, only to sell their newspapers and make a mockery out of abductees’ stories. The late Dr. John Edward Mack once remarked that reporters were primarily interested in why he was making a fool of himself, and they had little interest in the possible reality of alien encounters. I think we can all agree that this fine gentleman was a leading light and pioneer in his own profession, when he courageously accepted the mantle to investigate the case histories of everyday people who claimed to be alien abductees. At first, he was sceptical; as his worldview and medical background could not prepare him for what he eventually learned first-hand from the people he would later re-name ‘Experiencers.’ His very consciousness underwent a spiritual transformation because of shifting an old worldview and scientific methodology into an altogether different narrative. Mack said that there was not a scientific platform that was currently in existence, to adequately study what he now believed could assist in the development of humanity and he speculated that a clean slate would need to be created in order to further study experiencers. Dr John Edward Mack was born on October 4th, 1929, in New York City and sadly died on September 27th, 2004, in London, age 74. 113

He was a Pulitzer Prize winning author and Professor of Psychiatry at the esteemed Harvard Medical School. At one time it was believed that only soldiers suffered with PTSD. During the First World War it was known as ‘shell shock’ and after the Second World War as ‘combat fatigue’. But now it is acknowledged that this is not the case and it can be experienced by men, women, and children from all levels of society. A person does not need to experience an event at first-hand to suffer from trauma, it can occur in observers as well. The above is also true of children and adults who have been subjected to extreme paranormal encounters and also abduction by greys. A person could quite easily live their lives without ever being aware that their fears, phobia, nightmares, and insomnia might be the result of long forgotten events originating in their childhood. This of course is not to imply that everyone who experiences these elements will be an abductee, because each case would need to be investigated. How many people living today have yet to share their stories of high strangeness, some of which, if it were to be brought out into the light of day, might provide critical evidence to validate an on-going UFO cold case. To this day, my journey into high strangeness continues to haunt my life. ***

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