CapnG said:
If you can put your concerns aside, Mogwa, I for one would like to hear it (well...read it). I can't promise I'll believe you but I won't ridicule you for no reason either. Basically I'm just interested in the information, even if it makes no sense from my perspective, it's better to have it and not understand it than be without it and possibly miss a piece of the puzzle...
I have serious reservations about posting this, but I said I would, so here it is.
The events in question occurred while I was single, and living in a a very large apartment complex that maintained a high level of occupant security. Just gaining admission to the premises required the use of a magnetic key card. Once on the grounds, the key card was again necessary, along with another conventional key for my apartment's doors. It would have been next to impossible for any unauthorized person to have wondered about freely, undetected, unless they were an expert lock pick and invisible to security.
In spite of those protective measures, I awoke one June morning and found that someone or something had attacked me physically during the night. I discovered two wounds: one on the inside my right thigh, close to my genitals, and another across my abdomen, just to the right of the navel. The injuries were nearly identical: three parallel deep scratches approximately three eights of an inch apart, four to five inches long, and deep enough to have drawn blood. Both injuries were extremely sensitive and would sting painfully when touched. Although the wounds had to have been made within the last eight hours, they already seemed to display signs of infection, although of a very strange variety. Swelling, or proud flesh, was apparent only in the exact track of each line of penetration. There was absolutely no evidence of histamine infusion in the rest of the surrounding tissue as would be the case of any localized infection caused by penetrating trauma. In my opinion, the characteristics seemed more like an allergic reaction than infection.
It would have been impossible for me to have inflicted the wounds upon myself. I have always kept my nails trimmed short, and even if they had been long enough to have created such damage, the scratches were too close together for my fingers to repeat the pattern, mo matter how hard I tried to compress them. There were no instruments in my home that could have done the damage, not even kitchen utensils, The dimensions were wrong. The only conventional explanation I can yet come up with might be clawing from an extremely angry cat, but I didn't have one. Nobody living in the complex did, since pets were not allowed.
While I was still examining the scratches, I experienced a sudden rush of extremely frightening memories presented in a series of disjointed scenarios.The first was a first person perspective of me standing absolutely still in a familiar field that was overgrown with scrub, weeds and wild onions. Movement was impossible; I was frozen in place like a statue. (I have no idea what clothes I was wearing because, as I said, I was seeing this through my own eyes, not an an independent observer.)
After a few seconds had passed I could distinguish a large, dark circular shape moving across the star field of the night sky. It settled gently down onto the ground about fifty yards from my position. The hull was a smooth uniform gray, with no apparent signs of rivets or any other kind of familiar panel construction.
The sight of this "craft" made no emotional impression on me at all. I might as well been watching a scrap of paper being blown around by the wind. It's here that the first gap appears in my memory. One moment I was standing motionless in a field, then just as suddenly I found myself inside a white room filled with medical laboratory style work stations. Each station was a long solid base table with dark orange colored slab tops. A stainless steel trough ran down the center of each table, dividing it in half. Inverted J-shaped faucets were visible along the far sides of the troughs, but I never saw any knobs or levers that would be used to control water flow.
It was in this room that I encountered the entity that I have come to call "the elephant man." He was no more than five and a half feet tall, wearing what looked like a disposable white paper medical gown over a massively squat body. His skin was grayish brown and extremely wrinkled, exactly like that of an elephant. It's head was round, seemed to possess no protruding ears, had a thin lipless mouth and pinkish colored eyes I believe most people would associate with albinos. He was standing next to one of the work stations, staring at me. The place reeked of what I can best describe as an alcohol based disinfectant with a sour organic smell along with it.
Throughout all these experiences, voluntary movement was impossible. I was a prisoner in my own body. From the extreme points of my peripheral vision I would occasionally catch a glimpse of short pale figures moving very quickly. Whatever those things were, it's clear they didn't want me to see them straight on. That would come later.
While I was gaping at the elephant man, a voice began to speak, It seemed to come form behind me, but I can't be sure since it also seemed to be inside my head at the same time.
"He is our ally," the voice said, referring the elephant man thing. As soon as the voice stopped I could suddenly hear children singing from somewhere in another room. Their voices were faint but clear. The song they sang was a wordless choral piece totally unfamiliar to me.
Immediately, a picture popped into my mind. Joseph Mengele. Here was another monster in an experimental lab setting, with access to human children. My initial shock at the sight of the elephant man was replaced with anger and hatred. If I'd had control of my body, I would have attacked that thing without a moment's hesitation, then tried to find the children.
"He's afraid of you," the voice behind me said. And there the memories stop. What followed was me waking and discovering the scratches.
Three weeks later the first wounds had healed, only to be replaced with another set. The marks on my thigh were back in almost exactly the same location, but the second injury was slightly below and between my shoulder blades. By using a hand mirror to pick up the reflection from the larger bathroom mirror, I found the familiar three deep, long "claw marks." The physical symptoms of appearance and discomfort were the same as before.
The memories associated with this incident are just as confusing and full of gaps as the originals. I witnessed no ship arriving, I simply found myself in a dark room, paralyzed, standing upright, sensing a presence behind me.
There was no fear, not even a trace of apprehension.
This is the only instance when I can recall speaking, although I don't know how that could have been possible given the loss of voluntary physical movement on my part. Maybe I just thought my question: I asked whatever was lurking in the shadows to let me see them.
Three beings moved into my field of vision, directly in front of me. Their bodies were cast in a dramatic chiaroscuro in the room's dim light. What I most vividly recall is three sets of huge, round, amber gold eyes with black vertical slit pupils, set in elongated conical skulls. The skin was a mottled brown. No ears, a vestigial nose and a thin slit for a mouth. Imagine a squid's mantle minus the tentacles, and you'll have a fairly accurate picture. From what I could see of their bodies, they appeared to be bipeds approximately five feet in height, although it's difficult to be sure. There was nothing else in the room to measure them against.
My response was as quick as it was puzzling. I have no idea how I jumped to the conclusion that what I was seeing was some sort of charade, but I did.
"I asked to let me see you," I said. "This isn't right. You don't really look like that."
"It doesn't matter," a voice inside my head answered. "We can appear to be anything we wish."
From that scene my memory jumps to a room dominated by a monitor screen covering an entire wall. The three squid-like things are standing off to my right, positioned so that I can just barely catch a glimpse them. An odor of wet paper or cardboard suffuses the area.
There's something else in there with us, another living thing behind me and to the left. I can sense it's presence, and it frightens me. I don"t believe it's anything like the other three entities. The very thought of seeing what it might be is too terrible to contemplate.
"Look at the screen," a voice that sounds only in my mind orders.
There is a flash of color on the monitor, and I see a picture of a small city from an aerial view snap into perfectly clear resolution. It's like the ultimate high definition display, almost indistinguishable from three dimensional reality. I can make out cars and people along the streets, frozen motionless, which leads me to believe that I'm observing a still picture. Then I notice the movement of tree leaves rustling from the wind and the waves on a distant river flowing past the steel piles of a suspension bridge. Those people are in the same physical state of helplessness I am.
"This is what we can do," the voice says, and that's the end of memory. I'm waking up again, with the stinging scratches.
That's all I have. That and a terrible fear of looking up at the open sky, especially at night. It's a horrible, pervasive emotion that snaps down my spine and actually puckers my sphincter, if you'll excuse such a gross description.
The experiences stopped after the second incident. If there have been others, I don't remember them. I cannot imagine what possible uses they may have served. There were no visions of imminent ecological disaster, exploding moons, earthquakes, floods famines, wars, or any other kind of typical mayhem. Nobody instructed me in the secrets of the universe, or even an alien alphabet.
The only hypothesis I can offer relates to the elephant man scenario and my interpretation of it. Why did I so strongly associate him with a Nazi war criminal? Why were the singing children's voices introduced into the situation? Sometimes I think this may have been a psychological test to gauge my emotional responses. If that's what it was, I'm pretty sure I flunked.
But why administer it in the first place? If these entities have been interacting with us for as long as it appears, they should have mapped out the human psyche in the most minute detail by now.
I'm afraid the answers to the questions surrounding the entire spectrum of ufo related phenomena will never be answered. If we have collectively learned anything in the last fifty years, it is that the intelligences behind it can control human consciousness at its most fundamental level. That means we can believe nothing we experience when dealing with them.
