I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!

In 1975 we built a house out in the country. We saw UFOs all the time. My second son dreamed that he was taken to a base for UFOs. My daughter and her friend talked to a UFO.

Most notably, my oldest son, who is also fascinated by the lore of UFOs, and I were standing at the end of our front walk watching the sky about midnight. I believe we were looking at the Persiads meteor shower, dating this event to August of 1976. A UFO of very large proportions arose from a field about a mile in front of us. It rose slowly and quietly until it was directly over our house, and therefore us. Suddenly its lights went out and it disappeared.

On reading your book, I realized my irrational behavior. Fascinated as I've always been with UFOs, I remember turning and running into the house so that I could get to a second story window to get a better view. I always considered this very stupid behavior until I read your book (The Communion Letters). Now I realize I may have done nothing of the kind.

The second incident that I've always considered as a "close encounter" occurred on the night of January 27, 1977. On this night, my youngest son's birthday, my oldest son (again) and I were in the library talking. All the other children were asleep except the aforementioned daughter. She was reading in her bed. It was approximately 11:00 PM. At least I remember that was the time. I had told Mark that it was time for us to go to bed. He had already gone upstairs and was preparing for bed. I started out of the library, and my attention was drawn to the window in the foyer. I remember my intention of going over and looking out the window. (I always look up when I look out). I started to take a step when there was a brilliant flash of light. It lasted a very long time. Before I could move, when it was over, my son exploded out of his room at the top of the stairs, and my daughter came pounding down the upstairs hallway toward the stairs. They were both demanding to know the same thing, "What was that?" I walked the approximately ten feet to the window and saw nothing. We went into the kitchen to make cocoa, and to discuss the happening. This is what we discovered: we had lost upward of an hour of time. Where did it go?

The only person in our family who has seen people was my youngest son. All his life (he is now 18) he has been visited by "three wise men." I asked him about it the other night, and he was as reticent to discuss it as he always has been. At first he wouldn't answer my question, "Did he still see them?" Finally he shrugged and said, "Yes." I asked what they looked like, he fidgeted and finally said, "They are the three wise men, okay? Just leave me alone, I don't want to talk about it!" And that was the end of that.

I was astonished when I realized I had also seen three elves (?) one night in late August 1968. I was recovering from a stay in the hospital, and enjoying the quiet of my in-laws house while they were in Florida. Three little men came and poked at me to wake up and turn over on my back. I kept saying, "Go away, I'm sleepy." They ran up and down my back. I said, "Okay, I give up. I'll turn over." They peeled back the air like the page of an extra large book, and took me to see a house. When it was over, I asked the purpose of the exercise. They said, "So that you will know it when you see it," and they were gone.

I have a child that is the product of a pregnancy that disappeared at five months. For the disappearing pregnancy I did not go to the doctor. I 'knew' that it would disappear. How I knew, I don't know. And I may be pregnant now, the product of a fascinating 'dream.' I sincerely hope I am not, but if I am, I am.

On February 22, 1988, I had a very strange dream. I dreamed that I had to go see Uncle so-and-so to see if it was all right for the child to come. So I went to Uncle so-and-so (I don't remember a name). He lived very high up in an apartment building. He lived in a little one room bed-sitting room, very small, very messy. He said he had to talk to somebody to see if it was okay for me. He looked like a little gnome, with a bald head, a sparse fringe of gray hair, and large twinkling eyes. He smiled easily. He went though a door at the back of his room where there hadn't been a door before. I waited, then giving in to my natural curiosity, I went though the door. I was in what seemed to be a very old mansion. I wandered around and saw a school room, a library with a rose window, and a dining room with a very large dining table. What this has to do with it, if anything, I don't know. I was standing looking at the rose window when Uncle found me and exclaimed that I had found my way in. He said that it was all right for me to come in. I was to follow him to another room. This room looked very much like a doctor's examination room. There was a male there, and two females. I don't remember a whole lot of what happened next. I remember them bending me over a table so that my bare bottom was exposed. I don't remember undressing. They introduced something into me, and I felt a tremendous pressure. Then they started to put, like, electrodes on my bottom and my spine. They told me they were going to do it. I said to them, "I just don't want you to hurt me." They said that it would not hurt, but they wanted me to tell them what I saw. I don't know; that's all I remember. When I woke up and started to walk around, I felt like a virgin on her honeymoon. It came back with a rush, clearly and concisely.

I have found one other person with a memory of a similar place as mine. She remembers only the place which we call "The Planet of Light, or "The Crystal Planet." I was telling her of my memory and she said, "Wait, don't tell me. Let me tell you what it looked like." It was the same.

I want to tell you that my "impossible" pregnancy produced a daughter who looks very much like a modern-day Ishtar. When she was first born, I asked the doctor if she was Mongoloid, because of the slant of her eyes. At 22, she has large slanting green eyes, and her beauty has been compared to that of Helen of Troy.
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Excerpted from "The Communion Letters" by Whitley Strieber.