So why does a mild-mannered
researcher and hypno-therapist, a former university professor and
clinic director, get involved in such an exotic matter as the
Star Kids phenomenon?
As was true also in my
research with experiencers of contact by the Star Visitors, I
not so much went looking for the Star Kids and the Star Seeds,
as they came looking for me. Let me provide you with a little
background on this.
The first stage of my involvement with matters cosmic began in
1989, when I began working with experiencers of Star Visitor
encounters. I had been a professional psychotherapist for three
decades, and thought that I had heard everything. But in 1989 I
found out that I had not. That year I had four different persons
seek me out for counseling about minor problems of daily living.
These individuals were mentally sound and ordinary responsible
citizens, one is even a recognized figure in Republican
political life in my state. But after having worked with them in
counseling a while, these four separate individuals decided to
let down their hair a little further and tell me about contacts
they had had from Star Visitors.
I was jolted by their accounts of contact, but having worked
with them already for a while, had already determined that they
were not crackpots. Nor did they have any motivation of personal
gain from telling their story to me. For everything told to a
professional psychologist is confidential. There would be no
attention coming to them, nor did they seek any. They told me
their experiences at some perceived personal risk. Each told me
they were sure that after I heard what they had to say, that I
would commit them to the state mental hospital. But I did not.
As it turned out, I had the background to properly assess their
accounts, not only s a psychologist, but as a person who had
followed the UFO phenomenon for many years. You see, I was born
before there was a UFO Cover-Up.
I was eight years old when I heard my parents talk about the
newspaper report of a private pilot, sheriff’s deputy Kenneth
Arnold, who had spotted a V-formation of round wingless craft
flying near Mount Rainier, Washington State in June, 1947.
Deputy Arnold dubbed them “flying saucers”, and the term stuck.
Three weeks later, our daily paper and every paper in the
country ,ran a front-page story that a flying saucer had been
reported captured by the Army near Roswell, New Mexico. I
remember thinking to myself, “Gee, that’s neat: there are other
people in the universe and we’re not the only ones.”
And in 1952, I was in eighth grade and reading the daily paper
for myself. There was no way I could miss the big scream
headlines and photos that July reporting UFOs repeatedly flying
over the U.S. Capitol night after night. And how the Army Air
Corps sent up fighter planes who couldn’t catch up with them.
It was right after that, in 1953 that the government invented
the UFO Cover-Up, and began having prominent scientists and Air
Force Public Information Officers go before the press to deny
and discredit UFO sighting reports. But it was too late. The
seniors in our population still remember the truth from the good
old days when the newspapers covered UFO sightings like any
other valid news story, and had nothing to fear from the
government for doing so.
The second stage in my involvement with this phenomenon came in
1977. At the time I lived in Woodacre, a tiny bucolic rural
village in Marin County just north of San Francisco’s Golden
Gate Bridge. A neighbor buddy and I were hiking atop the hills
above the village when I looked up and saw a shiny metallic disc
slowly skittering across the sky. We were at about 600 feet
altitude and the disc was about 2000 feet above us and over
slightly to the southwest, tracking a northwesterly course. I
noted the direction of the wind, which was coming out of the
northwest. So, clearly what I saw was not a Mylar balloon,
(because the disc was tracking upwind.) I called out to my
hiking companion and pointed for him to look at the disc. I
commented to him, “It looks like I’ve seen my first UFO.” It was
not to be my last.
The third stage in my involvement with the Star Visitors
occurred in 1992.
On April 12, 1992, I was proceeding west on Interstate 10
towards Deming, New Mexico in my Chevy Blazer. I had my CB radio
on, listening to and talking with truckers along the way. At
Deming, I turned off I-10 onto U.S. Hwy 180, heading northwest
towards my destination for the night, a campground in Gila
U.S. Hwy180 is a two-lane blacktop road that goes in an almost
straight line for 53 miles between Deming and Silver City,
through absolutely empty and featureless Sonoranscrub desert.
It's mostly flat, with an occasional gentle rise, and this night
had maybe three cars on it besides mine the entire length of the
When I left Interstate 10 at Deming, it was just after 11 p.m.,
on a cloudless and starry night in the pitch-black desert. As I
pulled away from the Interstate, the CB audio traffic died out
due to the distance. I was weary but alert enough to safely
complete my drive to the campground. I estimated I would arrive
by 12:30 a.m. As I settled in to this final leg of a long day's
drive, I was aware that the road rose gently after about 15
miles. It was at about 11:20 p.m. I vaguely noticed a patch of
bright whiteness shining in the moonlight on a rise over to the
left, about 200 yards off the road. I remember vaguely
considering it must be a patch of snow. (Later I realized that
there could not have been snow at this lowest part of the
southernmost region of the New Mexico desert.)
About this time I heard a loud voice, which I at first presumed
came from my CB, saying in an Arkansas twang, "Watch out for the
smoke!" At first I figured that some trucker ahead of me was
warning anyone about a State Trooper (“Smokey [Bear]” in CB
lingo) that he had spotted. So I got on the CB and asked "Where
is the Smokey?" I was surprised when I got no answer. This is
the only time in my experience that a CBer failed to provide
location information to follow up on a State Trooper warning.
Then I noticed that the voice had seemed to have come from
behind me to my left. (Later, reflecting that my CB speaker was
mounted below my dash in front of me slightly to the right, I
realized the voice could not have been coming out of my CB
radio.) The strangeness had only begun.
Almost at once I saw what looked like a huge luminous cloud of
what looked like smoke stretched across the highway from the
leftmost part of the rise to the rightmost part, and up to the
sky, forming a solid curtain across the highway. I presumed that
it was my bad luck to be running across smoke from a forest
fire. So I went back on the CB to ask anyone out there, "Where's
the fire? Does anyone know about the fire on US 180?" Again, the
radio silence was spooky. No answer came from “Arkansas Twang”
or anyone else. I started to broadcast again, then gave up
lamely, since I was just about upon the presumed smoke cloud
ahead stretched across the highway. . I cursed my luck, and in a
few seconds calculated what a long detour I would have to drive
if this fire blocked the highway, versus the risk of plowing
through the smoke blindly, hoping it was just a hundred feet
thick or so, so I could break through to the other side and
complete my journey. I drove into the smoke, taking my foot off
the gas to slow down in case I didn't pop through the other side
quickly. I didn't. Not for an hour.
The smoke seemed to be coming off what I thought was a hillside
to the left of me. I couldn't see the road, the center line or
anything. So I came to a stop. (Later, in hypnotic recall, I
noted that there were no trees or brush burning, no blackened or
charred chaparral, and that the "smoke" had no odor! Nor was
this fog, not in the Springtime sea-level bone-dry Sonoran
desert with the air temperature nowhere near the dew point.) I
sat defeated in my car, stopped in the right lane of U.S. 180 in
the middle of nowhere. The greyish-white vapor did not
dissipate. So I got out, walked across the road to the left
shoulder, towards where the ground rose slightly up, disoriented
in the cloud.
I got the impression that there were low scrub pinon pines
spaced apart in the vapor. I stepped across a little ditch at
the edge of the road and walked towards these "pinon pines,"
then stopped, unable to see ahead. (I presumed there were pinon
pines there, but a friend who later re-drove that road told me
there were none on that stretch.) Then I went into a state of
paralysis. I could not move my body. I sensed the approach of
two persons, who got on either side of me and each placed a firm
grip on my forearms. I cannot recall actually viewing them. The
funny thing about their hands was that theirs was a
three-fingered grip. Their fingers were long and didn't feel like
human fingers. They did not have articulated bones, but instead
felt like there was continuous cartilage inside with a padded
fleshy exterior. The grip consisted of two fingers on top of my
forearm and one finger underneath. The fingers were not much
wider than human ones but quite long. And their grip was like a
vise. It was clear I was going with them. Frankly, I had no
better idea, anyway.
I was led forward and to the left, in the general direction of
what I had originally presumed was the "snow patch" gleaming in
the moon-light. Soon we arrived at a landed metallic vehicle. I
stopped about five feet in front of the midpoint of its long
side. It was shaped like a flattened arch, with rounded ends.
The bottom seemed more flat, but that may be because it was
partially sunk into the sand. It was a metallic color, about the
color of Airstream trailers, only not so bright. The length I
would estimate at 35-50 feet and the height at midpoint at 10-12
A rectangular opening appeared in the side of the craft. Next
thing I remember, (my memories are somewhat disjointed), I’m
sitting back in a chair in a room inside the craft, feeling
spacey and numb. I gradually realized that I was alone; they had
left. The lighting in there was subdued. The air inside was of
sort of a neutral temperature, not sharply cold like the desert
night air. It smelled stale, like the recycled air you encounter
in an airliner during a trans-continental flight.
After awhile they came back. The one who had the stronger grip
when we met, the one on my right, felt like a male presence. As
he came back in, I had a quick glimpse of his face. He had a
roundish oval face with two large horizontally ovoid black eyes
that did not slant or wrap around the side. No irises or pupils,
just black all the way across the eye. I did not notice a nose,
and got more of an impression than a view of a mouth. I did not
clearly see, but got the impression of a thin torso and limbs.
His height I would estimate at five feet. He seemed placid, sort
of matter-of-fact. He was definitely not human, but unmistakably
an intelligent life form. The other Star Visitor had had a
gentler yet still firm grip on my left forearm when we
encountered. The feeling was of a lighter, gentler persona,
possibly a female.
I was escorted into another room, which was also dimly lit, and
placed in a reclining position, something like the posture one
has in a dentist's or astronaut's chair. I felt a buzzing,
stimulating, resonating sensation in the triangular area defined
by the tops of my eyebrows and the bridge of my nose, and
focused about a quarter-inch inward from skin surface. (This is
a sensation I would become quite familiar with in the days and
months ahead. It has heralded and accompanied subsequent Star
Visitor contacts.) I experienced a sense of pressure in my nose,
as if a small object was being introduced into my nasal passages
or even a little higher. (Afterwards for four or five days I had
a sense of excessive pressure there, along with a feeling of
light buzzing resonance and pressure in my head that was almost
like a headache, but not quite.)
Next, I had a sensation of the release of restraints around my
ankles. These restraints were not physical restraints, but more
of an immaterial, force-field kind. I understood that the Star
Visitors were done, and I was free to go. I got up. The next
segment of the event I remember is being outside the craft in
the night air floating horizontally towards my vehicle. After
that I became aware of being behind the wheel, driving below the
speed limit, the "vapor" dissipating, and I'm breaking out of
the "smoke cloud" and resuming my drive northwest up U.S. 180. I
continued my trip to the Gila National Forest campground, where
I camped for the night.
When I woke up the next morning, I had no memory of my Close
Encounter. But I did notice four odd things. I had a strange
fullness and pressure feeling in my upper nasal passage area and
a dull, almost headache-like symptoms I had never had before. I
wrote it off to fatigue. As I put on my socks I also noted that
there were two tiny scoop marks side-by-side on top of my right
great toe, each like a shallow crater that you could rest the
base of a BB in. I was startled, because I am no stranger to the
body-marks literature of extraterrestrial encounters, which
includes scoop marks from tissue sampling. But denial set in,
and I said to myself, "Nah, that can't be that!" Then I
reflected that I had arrived at the campground at least an hour
after my estimated time; and on the open roads of New Mexico,
where a minute can equal a mile, I had become quite precise at
calculating traveling time.
Lastly, I noticed, with curiosity, that overnight my attitude
towards extraterrestrials had changed. Gone was the gripping
fear that I had felt since having just finished reading David
Jacobs's lurid book of scarey disinformation, Secret Life.
Instead, I noticed that a gentle live-and-let-live attitude had
settled in. And I began feeling sorry for the Star Visitors, as
I considered the monumental Star Wars weapons crash program aimed
at them that I had seen on this trip around classified
government installations in the Southwest. I also reflected on
my own research into cases I had interviewed, where I found the
Star Visitors to be usually caring, gentle while firm, and
concerned for such values as ecology, social justice, child
protection, childhood education, consciousness advancement, and
a spiritual/metaphysical-focus. I noted that the experiencers of
Star Visitor encounters stated that while some adult
gynecological/urological procedures did seem oriented towards
retrieving reproductive material, in many other instances
medical and scientific procedures were oriented towards cures of
diseases, genetic manipulation of ovaries or in-place fetus to
create enhanced capabilities in the fetus ( future offspring) of
the Experiencer, or the returning of a genetically-enhanced
concept us to the mother for completion of childbearing and
child-rearing. It struck me how exaggerated and distorted David
Jacobs and Budd Hopkins were with their Grey Menace tales.
Instead, I found it correct to think like an anthropologist:
that what we have here is a contact between civilizations. I
also felt dedicated to the goal that this Contact not end up
like in the movie Cool Hand Luke, where the Cracker Prison
Warden drawls: "What we have here is a failure to communicate."
So, a little suspicion began to curl inside my head, but I
discounted it, saying to myself that the dramatic discoveries I
had seen, (and was yet scheduled to view), were making me tend
to over dramatize these anomalies.
It was only after I returned home from the entire trip, and
experienced continuing nasal pressure, quasi-headaches and
uncharacteristic moodiness and edginess persist for more five
days, that I reviewed everything and realized that these, too,
were common psychological aftermath signs of a Close Encounter
experience which has been repressed from conscious memory.
At that point I made room in my mind for the possibility that I
had had a close encounter of the fourth kind (with a Star
Visitor.) I consulted a hypnotist-psychologist and a psychic
remote-viewer to explore that strange part of my trip When the
hypnotist had me smell the "smoke" and I then noticed that it
had no odor, that was the final straw. I put that fact together
with all the other signs common to persons who have had a close
encounter, and my denial crumbled. Subsequent exploration with
memory assistance sessions with a local professional using
hypnosis resulted the emergence of recall of the other details
which I have presented above.
In all my work with experiencers over the years since, I have
noticed a pattern. The children born of experiencers tend to be
extraordinary, very bright, quick to grow up, endowed with
various psychic abilities, robust, good-looking, and
cosmic-minded. These are the children I have come to call the
Star Kids. I considered them startling, and charming. But it was
not until about six years ago that this latest phase in my
involvement with the Star Visitors began.
It happened when I was visiting my friend, Russ, in rural,
sparsely-populated Modoc County, northeastern California. Russ
had invited me up to give a weekend seminar on UFOs and the Star
Visitors. While I was there, I stayed in Russ’s very large,
hand-built wooden house. After the Saturday segment of the
seminar was over, Russ came upstairs to my room to tell me
something.( I had learned earlier that he had frequent visits
from the Star Visitors). Russ told me that his Visitor contact
had a message he wanted to be passed on to me: that I was to
work with the Star Kids, and eventually set up a Star Kids
School. Russ was to be of assistance.
I listened carefully. This was not the first message that I have
received from the Star Visitors through a human courier. But I
could tell that this was a particularly important one. I was to
make the Star Kids a top-priority assignment. Since I have
raised four children, and worked with hundreds of others as a
counselor and a teacher, I have had a lifelong love of children.
But these Star Children were extraordinary. I felt it a great
privilege and an extremely-serious responsibility to undertake
my assignment with these special children. I gladly accepted
As I go about the United States and elsewhere working with Star
Kids, their parents, and Star Seed adults, people ask me, “Are
you a Star Seed, too?”
By way of an answer, let me do a bit of personal sharing. Late
in 2003 I had occasion to talk to a close associate, certified
hypnotherapist and psychic, Marian MacNeil, who assists me in
working with the Star Kids. Marian has frequent visits from a
Star Visitor who chooses to use the human name “Neuman”. This
Visitor is an energy being, evolved past the need for a physical
body. He temporarily uses the voice box of Marian to communicate
with. During my contact with Marian, I asked Neuman about an
encounter I had had at age 12 on the steps of the North
Hollywood Post Office. Two men wearing raincoats (it was not
raining) accosted me telepathically while I was ascending the
Post Office steps.
The message I got from them was that they wanted me to come with
them. Naturally, as a 12-year-old boy in 1951, knowing nothing
of telepathy, I didn't realize what was happening: that their
voices were heard only in my mind, without going through my
ears. I was frightened by this confusing situation. I abandoned
my bicycle on the steps, and ran from them into the Post Office.
There I told the postal clerk that two men were trying to kidnap
me. When I looked around through the glass entrance doors, the
two men were gone. The clerk hadn’t taken me seriously, and no
authorities had been summoned. So, I waited a long time, to be
sure that they were gone, then ran to my abandoned bicycle, and
pedaled as fast as I could home.
In response to my enquiry about this childhood episode, Star
Visitor Neuman explained that these two had been Star Visitors
from a planet which was dying, and that their people had become
dispirited. These two men thought that if I came back with them,
that this would somehow aid them by lending my intense emotional
energy to them in some helpful way. But when I ran away from
them, they realized that I was not going to be cooperating, and
so they left.
Neuman also made it clear that this was not my first Star
Visitor encounter. He said that my first encounter was in my
mother’s womb, when I was just an embryo. The Star Visitors
worked on my developing brain and notochord (primitive
spine/neural trunk) to make certain modifications.
Neuman indicated also that over the more recent course of my
life, the Star Visitors often make mental-merger contacts to
provide information I would not otherwise have.
The Star Visitor also said that there is a beautiful future
unfolding that is difficult for us to imagine: a beautiful place
will emerge in time.
“Many now struggling will no longer need to
Neuman encouraged me to write another book, about the Star Kids.
And that is what I have set forth to do, and gladly. Such
writing was indeed a pleasure.
Richard Boylan, Ph.D.