X - Casey and Karla

After asking these eight courageous women to share their experiences with the public, it is only proper that I also give an account of the things my husband, Casey, and I have witnessed since the first year of activity recounted in INTO THE FRINGE. We have repeatedly been asked about further experiences, and the following summary will serve to fulfill that request, in addition to increasing the body of knowledge upon which research depends.

The first intense period of dealing with alien activity lasted from late 1987 through most of 1990, but after that the encounters dramatically waned in our daily life. We breathed a figurative sigh of relief, hoping that the aliens had moved on to another task. Besides, having become active in abduction research, this relatively peaceful period allowed us to focus on learning from other people’s experiences, expanding our base of knowledge from the personal level to that of general society.

I still kept a calendar notation of any questionable or unusual events, but the frequency was so low that a journal wasn’t needed any longer. In all of 1990, for instance, I recorded signs of only eight possible events, only three of which were evinced in a conscious or objective manner. In addition to some unexplained body marks, I witnessed another UFO sighting on February.

Leaving a friend’s at 8:15 p.m. I saw a huge, white object flying rapidly at a very low altitude above three tall towers in the city. Driving on, however, I lost track of it, but when I reached my own neighborhood I saw it again.

I decided to go to the hill near our house and have one more look. When I parked and walked to a prominence to get a wide view, I immediately saw the same light coming from the west toward the south. It was moving much more slowly now, and bobbing along rhythmically instead of in a smooth, straight path. It passed between the downtown skyline and me, so I knew it couldn’t be more than a mile away.

It began to grow larger, as if moving closer, and I felt ready to confront it, at last, in full consciousness. But after a bit, the light receded, still bobbing, and continued on into the south. I ran down the hill to the car, thinking I’d drive home for Casey and bring him back to see the object. Then I thought I should have one last look to determine where I would likely find it visible when we returned. So I raced back up the hill and looked around. The light was not where I had previously seen it.

I turned back in disappointment, and then caught sight of it again, in the very position it had started from the first time. The bobbing light silently repeated its path, once again coming close for a time and then backing away. I returned quickly to the car then and drove the half-block distance to my home. The streets were deserted as I pulled into the garage.

When I ran inside and yelled for Casey to come with me, he looked up puzzled from the couch and asked if I had pulled into the garage twice.

“No, of course not,” I replied. “Why’d you ask that?”

‘Then I guess it must have been a truck out on the street,” he said. “But it sure was loud, for just a truck.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

‘This huge noise,” he said, “about thirty seconds before you came in the garage. It was so loud that the whole front of the house shook, like some huge tanks or trucks were barreling down the street.”

“I was just on the street,” I objected, “and there was nothing out there. But I did see a UFO, up on the hill.”

We drove together back to the prominence and were disappointed to see nothing but the usual air traffic in the sky.


At no time during 1990 did either of us have a conscious encounter, just signs that something might have been going on. Emotionally and intellectually, we had nothing concrete with which to deal.

In 1991, however, at least in the beginning, that was not the case. Both Casey and I felt a great, undirected stress, as we’d done back in 1988, and that experience told us that activity might be recurring which was kept repressed from our consciousness.

In January, our son’s friend James reported encounters with unusual entities, one of which once masked itself with the illusion of a beautiful blonde woman before revealing a very different physiology. Casey also recalled a possible encounter with the blond group that month, which had seemed like a VRS dream event (as recounted in INTO THE FRINGE). For Casey, the event was disturbing and puzzling, and we both wondered if anything further could occur. But nothing similar happened, nothing but a few unexplained marks, until April.

Shortly before leaving for the Ozark UFO Conference early that month, we had a “phantom sedan” incident, reminiscent of “Men in Black” reports. In this event, a very real-looking black car rolled down the street, came to a near stop as it reached our yard boundary, and a human-looking man in a white shirt and dark suit, wearing sunglasses, peered through the car’s deeply tinted windows into the front of our house-where I was standing staring back out. I turned around to shout for Casey to come see it, and when I looked back the car had vanished.

In June, the mysterious helicopters returned, appearing on three different days. By the end of the month we made a permanent move to Arkansas, and thereafter, in an area with heavy, normal helicopter traffic, it was impossible to tell if any of it was unusual. We found a few questionable marks on our bodies in August, but it wasn’t until October that a memory of anything specific turned up.

During the night of the fourteenth, I physically got out of bed at some point, and I also had a dream that aliens were about to come into a long, narrow room where I was waiting.

My only thought was, Don’t scare me! But nothing more remained in my consciousness, in spite of the bruise on my arm and scratch on my abdomen in the morning.

One other incident, in January 1992, involved another almost-conscious realization that an intrusion was occurring. I woke at 1:34 a.m., opened my eyes, and wondered why the room was so foggy. My immediate rationalization was that my eyes just hadn’t yet focused, and I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I started walking, a sudden rush of thick, clear liquid with tiny black specks suspended in it flooded from me, much more than can be produced naturally by the body, but I had no idea where it had come from. Neither could I account for the new scratch and bruise I found the next day.

These things were physically real, yet something within me didn’t really “come to grips” with what might be happening to us. I wouldn’t let these events obsess me or throw me off track from researching other people’s situations. If the aliens wanted to get my attention again, they were going to have to do a lot better than this, I decided. A strange snippet of a dream now and then, a few marks, even the liquid-the significance of which I certainly knew from other women’s accounts-weren’t enough to frighten me or move me in any serious way. I refused to feel under attack, even granting that some activity was occurring. But I was only able to keep this frame of mind because I wasn’t perceiving them consciously.

For months thereafter, neither Casey nor I noticed anything inexplicable or suspicious. Throughout most of 1992 I was busy with radio and newspaper interviews, the result of INTO THE FRINGE being released, and I also worked on a research project involving Ted Rice, the well-known psychic in Shreveport, Louisiana, whose lifelong experiences with alien forces shed extraordinary light on some of the abduction activities which have been so hard to penetrate.

The period of no unusual activity, however, came to an end with a bang on the morning of October 13. I was sitting at the coffee table working on Ted’s material, when a large ball of white light appeared and exploded right in front of me, less than four feet away. There was no noise, so I realized I hadn’t merely seen a reflective flash from an explosion.

Five minutes later, a noise did occur, a very loud, pounding noise that slammed against the kitchen wall with a house-shaking thump. My dogs started up, barking, and we ran to the kitchen door to see what had happened. The garage doors were closed and locked, however, with nothing out of the ordinary in sight. My immediate response was a feeling that this was an announcement of some sort, a declaration of a renewed presence. And from past experience I could recognize the “feel” of this intrusion. There was no fear or anger in my mind, just a complete determination to face whatever would come next.

That proved to be a UFO sighting. On October 27, at 7 p.m., our neighbors phoned to say they’d been watching a UFO for the past ten minutes and wanted us to come out for a look. I had dinner cooking just then, but Casey and a visiting friend raced up the road, in time to watch an odd orange-red orb of light disappearing behind the tree line. The neighbors said they saw the orb change colors from white to orange, and that at one point a solid-looking beam of light emerged and moved around before retracting back into the UFO as it moved away.

Since this event was multiply witnessed, we didn’t feel it was “aimed” at us. UFO sightings are surprisingly frequent in central Arkansas, and they are often seen by multiple witnesses. This sighting, although momentarily exciting, was oddly unaffecting. If this sighting report had come from someone else, I would have recognized the pacified response, but it’s much harder to analyze oneself than someone else.

The next month, as I started a dusk stroll up the drive, I had my most bizarre UFO sighting to date. And again I experienced a sedated reaction. In absolute silence, a large, rectangular craft soared over my mother-in-law’s cottage, which is thirty feet from our house, just above treetop level. My first response was exhilaration, and I started to run up the drive to follow it. But its speed, while not startling, was fast enough that the craft was soon out of sight, blocked by the tall, thick trees on our property.

I observed it long enough to get a clear picture, though. It reminded me of a train boxcar in length and width, although not quite as tall, and it looked metallic-brown. The bottom of the craft had an indentation or bar across the middle, with a large amber light at each end. Four more amber lights marked each corner of the rectangular object, for a total of six lights.

Within a matter of seconds, my exhilaration disappeared along with the craft, and instead of racing inside to get Casey, I just began to stroll again. When I did go back in, I told him of the sighting and that I hadn’t had time to notify him before the craft flew off. My natural excitement and curiosity felt artificially suppressed, so much so that I didn’t even make a notation of the sighting on my calendar.

In fact, it simply faded from my memory for almost two weeks before I suddenly remembered it again. After experiencing this response several times, I am now convinced that it is externally imposed and thus denotes outside contact of a very real nature.

At the time, however, I was unconcerned. My friend Brenda was in the midst of much more overt alien intrusions in her home, and they seemed more important than the few things we’d experienced ourselves. Besides, as I’d decided earlier, it would take something highly significant to pique my interest and get me to interact on a personal level with the aliens again.

On January 8, 1993, it got rather personal when I woke up to find my clothing had been removed, and I hadn’t been the one who removed them. This was always upsetting to me when it occurred in the past, for it made me feel intimately and helplessly violated. I had the same response this time, and when I phoned Brenda to discuss it the next morning, she told me of the dream she’d had the same night. I was in it.

She dreamed she was aboard a craft, immobile on a table, and she could see me on a table beside her, also unable to move. She said she tried desperately to reach out to me, but couldn’t, and that’s all she recalled. I had no memory to match the event, but the missing clothing was indicative of some nocturnal activity I hadn’t generated.

It was Casey’s turn next, in February. On the morning of the seventeenth he told me that in the middle of the night, at 12:38 a.m., a loud “bang” noise awakened him from a dream. (Normally I am the one who awakens at any sound, while he sleeps through everything.) In the dream, he had been standing in the living room looking out the picture window at the ridge behind our property. A large, white orb appeared in the sky and then descended to the ridge.

He told me that he instantly remembered the dream when he was awakened by the bang and that he then got out of bed and walked into the living room. Just as in the dream, he stood peering out the window, watching in full consciousness as a large, white orb appeared and descended to the ridge.

“What happened then?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“I guess I went back to bed,” he said, “but I honestly don’t remember doing it.”

And his response was curiously passive, as mine had been. This time I noticed and determined to be more alert if anything else were to occur, to fight the passive effect in order to react the way I thought best, rather than the way some outside force directed me.

In April I also had a nighttime event, much less dramatic than Casey’s sighting of the orb, but nonetheless inexplicable. At 1:14 a.m. I awoke hearing the sound of a C-130 airplane, with which I’m very familiar as training flights from the nearby military base have regular paths over this area.

The plane sounded as if it was just coming directly overhead, at an extremely low altitude. My first reaction was irritation at the thoughtlessness of training flights at such an intrusive hour. I’ll phone the base in the morning and complain, I thought as I lay there with Casey soundly asleep beside me. But seconds, and then minutes, elapsed, and the noise of the C-130 didn’t waver, increase, or diminish.

It can’t be hovering! I thought, but that’s exactly how it sounded-as if a C-130 was motionless low over the house. In a normal state of consciousness-which I really thought I had -I would have awakened Casey to hear it, too, but I didn’t. Instead, six or seven minutes after first hearing it, I just fell asleep. It didn’t occur to me to resist.

For over a year I had kept the attitude that I wouldn’t acknowledge alien contact back in my life, in our lives, without strong, overt experiences. I had also been praying, in my fashion, to whatever good and loving and true higher forces may be out there, asking for two things: that they guide me to know and follow the power of goodness; and that they communicate with me in an overt manner, without any subtlety or ambiguity. I prayed for help, for information that would be clear enough for a child to understand, as I realized my level of understanding and perception were about that rudimentary in dealing with the aliens. I wanted a communication that couldn’t be dismissed, variously interpreted, or ambiguous as to its nature.

On May 10, 1993, I may have gotten a partial answer to that prayer, although great caution is called for in assessing any contacts before accepting them at face value. This particular contact conformed exactly to other abductees’ descriptions of the VRS dream and was the first of its kind I had experienced to such a degree.

I was in the middle of a normal dream when suddenly I was somehow removed from that dream and found myself sitting in a chair, in a darkened area, accompanied by entities I wasn’t allowed to see. They spoke to me, clearly and frequently, throughout the event. I was facing a small stage area, which I now feel was more holographic than solidly three-dimensional even though at the time it looked quite realistic. My “hosts” told me I was to watch a scenario played out on the stage.

It began with a scene from Genesis, in which Esau returned home feeling so hungry he feared he would die. His younger brother Jacob was sitting there eating a bowl of pottage, and Esau begged him to share it. Jacob said he would give Esau the food, but only in exchange for Esau’s birthright as the oldest son of Isaac. I heard Esau say, It won’t do me any good to have the birthright if I die of starvation, so I’ll agree to trade it for the food.

Then the scenario on stage changed to another part of the brothers’ story. In this second scene, Isaac was very old and blind and knew that he was close to death. He called for Esau to be brought to him to receive the laying-on of hands that would confer the inheritance. Jacob wrapped an animal skin around his arm and presented it for his father’s touch. Isaac felt the fur and believed it was the arm of his very hairy eldest son. So in his ignorance of this deception he conferred the blessing and gave Jacob that which rightfully belonged to Esau.

The play ended, and then it started right up again, playing out several more times as my hosts discussed its meaning with me. At various points they would stop the action, much as we pause a video tape, and would point out some specific detail and tell me what it meant, what it symbolized, and what the message was trying to convey.

They told me not to focus on the biblical aspect of the play, that their message had nothing to do with any actual Jacob and Esau, but that the story was designed to illustrate important information about what the aliens are doing to humans, both in the past and in the present. The hosts went through the play with me several times, pointing out details and saying things like, Okay? Let’s try it again. Now watch closely. And the play would proceed.

After several repetitions, I suddenly “woke up” in my bed, amazed by what I’d just seen. I got out of bed for a while, trying to discern the nature of the event, whether dream-like or externally generated, and I also pondered on the meaning of the scenario. When I lay back down, as soon as I touched the pillow I was suddenly back in the chair, facing the stage, and my hosts said we would now resume. Once again the play began running, as did the explication offered by my abductors. And when they apparently were satisfied, the action ceased and the abductors gave me a clearly delineated summary of the things I was meant to perceive.

Esau, the older and hairier brother, they explained, represents the original human species on this planet. Jacob represents the altered product of alien genetic manipulations of that older species. The aliens produced this new variant and then used it to replace the original form.

In our current situation, the aliens are once again doing genetic alterations of our species and are once again trying to produce a variant which will be more useful for their purposes and which will supplant us. And again it will be attempted through deception, as Jacob deceived Isaac. This deception, I was told, is being carried out by the aliens through exploitation and manipulation of global events, including weather phenomenon, to make us believe that the planet is in imminent danger of cataclysm and destruction.

This is why they impress the idea of coming destruction upon so many abductees, telling then they will have tasks to perform at that time. They want us, as a race, to be so afraid of this upcoming destruction that when they show themselves openly and offer to save us in some way, we will be willing to take their help, even if it means giving up our birthright, so to speak, which is preeminence on this planet.

Like Esau in his hunger, we will say,

“What good does it do us to keep our birthright if we’re all going to be destroyed along with the planet? What have we got to lose if we accept alien help, even though that means accepting alien control? Better to survive under subjugation than not at all.”

But my hosts stressed that this is all a deception, that our planet, without their intervention, is not in imminent danger. These terrible disasters we see-the flooding, hurricanes, and earthquakes-are sometimes being intensified by the very aliens who will then come in and offer to save us from “inevitable” destruction. We should not believe them, I was told emphatically. And we must not surrender our sovereignty to them, as that would mean we were truly lost forever.

After this, I knew nothing more until waking in the morning, very disturbed by what I’d been shown. I had no way of identifying the source of this event and never caught even a glimpse of my abductors, who stayed behind me in the dark. I couldn’t deduce anything about the event from my past encounters, because this one was completely different. I knew I hadn’t been taken anywhere, because I woke up consciously in the midst of the experience and was able to check my physical surroundings. And there was no doubt in my mind that during the encounter I was not asleep; in fact, I remember being so awake when I was removed to the chair that I thought, How can they snatch me right out of a dream like that?

The experience seemed designed in some ways to fulfill the request I’d made for a straightforward, clearly comprehensible communication that would be helpful. They must have taken me at my literal word, for the message was reinforced in every conceivable way: visually, repetitiously, and verbally. So did that mean I could accept it as coming from a benevolent source? Could I test or trust its accuracy?

All I could do, finally, was hold the message in reserve and compare it to the events that occur as time passes. At least parts of what they told me I already knew to be true. The aliens do make a practice of giving abductees information about a coming time of destruction or change. With the many natural disasters of recent time, it is an easy message to believe. And they have engaged in what appears to be genetic processes for years, according to abduction accounts, as well as taking credit time and time again for the creation of the human species. But even these two “facts” I still had to question, because in neither case could we objectively verify the activities.

Things around our home went back to normal after that, until the middle of July, when a series of odd noises started to plague us. We heard everything from large plastic ware (nonexistent, of course) shattering on our wood floors, to gigantic invisible woodpeckers hammering away in the living room. Things got even stranger one evening in August, when Casey and I had a parallel and infuriating experience. I heard him ask me a question, and when I turned around to answer him, instead he answered it himself. Both of us heard the other one ask the question, it turned out, although neither of us had even been thinking about the subject.

Throughout August and September, there was an undercurrent of tension in our lives that felt just as it had back in 1988, after alien contact had renewed with Casey but before he was consciously aware of it. His usual coping mechanism for work and personal concerns seemed impaired, so that almost every interaction was stressful.

The stress was affecting me, too, leading to recurrent insomnia and sleep disruptions. I started doing something I’ve never done in the past-leaving my bed, and Casey, to try to rest elsewhere. Sometimes I’d lie on the couch, with the dogs nearby on another couch, and sometimes I wrapped up in a blanket and slept fitfully on the guest bed. There were no conscious events to show that anything suspicious was occurring, but the insomnia was not normal, and neither was my willingness to be separated from Casey.

We weren’t in step with each other or comfortable with ourselves in those weeks. I became worried as the situation seemed to go on and on, but I couldn’t pick up any clue from Casey about his thoughts. Given all that had happened in the past months, I should have asked him if he thought the stress indicated suppressed memories of new contacts. But I was honestly afraid to ask and risk a confrontation with something that felt so heavy or ominous.

It was Casey who broke the silence, one night as we drove home from visiting friends. In the quiet of the evening drive, he began to talk after a long period of silence, seriously and very tentatively. I could feel he was searching for a way to be both confiding with me and reassuring of my feelings at the same time.

What he told me were the details of two dreams. The first one had occurred in early September, but he hadn’t told me at the time. When the second one occurred later in the month, however, he had described it to me the next morning. I recalled he said we were a team of detectives in the dream, and then he sketched out the details of our pursuit of two suspects. We had chosen to follow one of them, a woman, but when we caught up with her we realized she was innocent, that the other suspect was the guilty party.

“I think it was a symbolic message,” he told me that morning. “I think it was telling me that you and I are on the right path in this work with the abduction situation. We’re following the truth, that’s what the beautiful woman we caught represented.”

In our talk in the car, Casey began by telling me about the first dream, from early September, and I could see why he’d been reluctant to discuss it.

“Something’s been going on,” he said, “and I want to tell you about it. I had a dream earlier this month. It woke me up, and I looked at the clock. It was around 4 a.m. I thought there would be plenty of sleep time left so I wouldn’t be tired when I got up for work. Satisfied, I rolled over and started to drift off, when I remembered what the dream was about. And I noticed then, and only then, that my heart was still pounding faster than usual.

“I thought there must have been something to that dream, so I tried to remember more. There was a strong odor of spicy sweat and a stronger scent of fear in the dream. I think I was nude, and so was this woman who was sending out fear and pain signals. She seemed to be very confused and upset by the situation. I felt dazed and angry, dazed by whatever control was being exerted on my mind to get me into this situation, and angry at being in the situation in the first place.

“I felt pity and sorrow for her, so I held her gently and tried to calm her down. I tried to talk normally, and that seemed to reassure her and give her back some sense of control. When she calmed down, I awoke. And immediately, I remember now, I smelled the air to see if there was any scent from the dream left on me. But there wasn’t.”

“Did you recognize the woman?” I asked. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” Casey said, naming a casual acquaintance with whom we’ve never had any social involvement. “I really tried to think it was just a dream,” he said, “and that maybe I was going through some sort of mid-life mental quake, but I don’t think that’s it. Anyway, I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to worry you. But after the second dream, I can’t keep this quiet any more.”

“Why?” I asked. “Was it something awful?”

“No,” he said, “it wasn’t a bad dream. Do you remember me telling you the dream where we were detectives?”

“Yes,” I replied, recalling the conversation quite clearly.

“Well, that was the dream,” Casey continued. “I told you about it at breakfast, and we talked about whether it was symbolic. And I really thought it was. Until two days ago.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I was at the mall with a friend for lunch,” he said. “We had eaten and were heading around to the escalator, and then this woman came around the corner, dressed all in black. She was blonde, genuine blonde, and her skin matched the color, eyes, too. She looked at me, started to lift up her arms, and said, ‘H-h-hello!’ And then she seemed to get real confused and walked on past me.”

“What did you do then?” I asked. “Did you go after her or talk to her?”

“No,” he said, “we went up the escalator , and when I got to the top I turned and looked back down there. She was still there, looking very disoriented, and then she walked off slowly.”

“So what did that have to do with the dreams?” I wondered.

“That woman in the mall,” Casey said, “was the same woman I saw in the detective dream. That was her! In the flesh! I recognized her immediately, and I swear she acted like she recognized me, too. You know how you’ll reach out to hug a friend you haven’t seen in a long time? That’s how it was, and when she reached for me I was starting to reach for her, too.”

“What do you think is going on?” I asked. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I thought that was just a dream, but there was the real woman. So now I don’t know if the first one was a dream, either. And that was a bad situation.”

“Do you remember anything specifically sexual happening in the first one?” I asked, thinking of the encounters in other abductee reports.

“I didn’t see anything like that happen,” Casey told me. “I only saw us kneeling in front of each other, nude and scared and angry. We were in a circle of bright light that came from somewhere above us, and everything outside of that was too dark to see. But I sensed it was a very large room. Something could have gone on, either before that or after, and I just don’t remember.”

“How did you feel, while it was happening?”

“I didn’t feel sexual. It was more a very deep sorrow because that woman was in such terrible panic and fear and pain. It was so thick I could almost grab it in the air, all that emotion. All I wanted to do was make her feel better, give her some comfort, and that’s what I remember doing. Just holding her and talking.”

“Have you seen her, I mean in person, since the dream?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So how did she seem? Did she say anything?”

“No, she didn’t say a word. I passed her on a stairway, and she looked at me very intently. I think her face even turned red, and then she looked down at the stairs and went on by.”

“Does she usually say hello when you see each other?”

“Yes, she’s always been friendly in the past,” Casey said. “I don’t know why she acted like that, unless that whole thing wasn’t really a dream. But there’s no way I can ask her about it, we don’t know each other that well at all.”

“And we don’t have a clue as to finding the woman in the mall,” I remarked, wishing we could ask her if she really remembered the incident in Casey’s dream.

“No, I never saw her before,” he said. “But we had a connection, when we were looking at each other, a very strong connection. I looked at her, and then it was like I was inside her head, her eyes, looking back out at myself. And I could feel her, in a way, that she really is good, a good person. She’s not responsible for whatever might have happened. If anything really did.”

That was the question we were always left to face, the nature of an event’s reality. In some reports, two people have separately recalled being in an identical dream or situation, and in those cases the people involved can feel more certain of the dream or event’s objective reality.

But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sometimes one person will have a traumatic experience involving another person, and the reality of the event is so convincing that the experiencer believes the other person was truly involved, no matter how impossible time and location considerations may seem.

Granted, there is plenty of evidence for the aliens’ ability to manipulate time and space, so the objective reality of such events cannot automatically be dismissed. But there is also hard evidence that the aliens are masters of illusion, total-sensory, gut-and-heart-wrenching illusion, generated by an external mechanism. And when an abductee is in an altered state, the illusion is very convincing to his controlled perceptions.

This lesson had been brought home by the extraordinary VRS involving Amelia that Ted and Marie witnessed in 1991, and now I was seeing, possibly, with my husband’s bewildered emotions, just how masterful the aliens’ deceptive mechanisms can be. For Amelia, the event had been a virtual-reality solo flight, the external product or result of the blue sphere technology and its creators. Knowing this, I wondered if Casey’s dreams were objective or virtual experiences, the product of some similar technology, and so did he. The only thing he knew to be “real” was the nameless woman he came face to face with in the mall.

This experience, all of our experiences and those of the eight women recounted here, define the abduction phenomenon. It is complex, ambiguous, deceptive, inconsistent, traumatic, physical, and metaphysical, with no single or clear purpose. There are patterns and possibilities, but none so plainly verifiable that everyone can agree on the facts, much less the larger truth, of the agenda.

If all that Casey and I knew about alien abductions was limited to our own experiences, we would have a very different picture of the situation. And we would be much more vulnerable to alien manipulations or programming in our ignorance. It is only when we consider our experiences within the larger context of Amy’s experiences, and Beth’s and Lisa’s and the experiences of the thousands of other abductees, that we gain enough knowledge to get past the personal illusions.

And it is only by giving up our wishful ideas and facing the data squarely that any of us can hope to penetrate to the actuality of these events, to come to terms with “what is” rather than what we wish it to be.

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