Many people who develop an interest in ufology do so because they have a personal connection to the phenomena; little else could convince many people that this unfashionable mode of thought is worth pursuing. Like many people, I’ve seen things in the sky that struck me as weird: strange lights moving in erratic patterns, appearing and disappearing, moving too fast or too high up to be anything I can pinpoint, etc. I’ve had the thought ‘maybe that’s a UFO’; but it’s at least as likely (probably more likely) that these were weather phenomena or conventional aircraft, or satellites, or what have you. I’ve also never really considered the possibility that I’ve been abducted by or contacted by extraterrestrials. I have no memory of such things at least, for which I’m glad, as the abductee’s experience is often very psychologically harmful, particularly for the (many) people who claim to have been abducted multiple times. That said, I do have one memory that could perhaps qualify as a related phenomenon. I was reminded of it recently, while reading some abduction-related hypnosis transcripts. Like the anomalous lights, this too is likely something that could be readily explained— as a weird dream, most likely. However, it has stuck with me for a long time, and I’d like to share it, as it is at the very least pretty creepy.
My (possible) experience with (possible) aliens took place one night when I was a sophomore in high school in Calais, Maine (for my Canadian readers, this would be “tenth grade”). I should specify that this was long before my passion for ufology and Forteana took root; I didn’t even read much science fiction back then. It would be another four or five years before I got into UFOs in a big way.
I had gone to bed for the night. My bed lay alongside the wall which also had my bedroom door; when the door was open, I could see through the space between the door and the door frame, down the short hallway to my mom’s sewing room at the end of the hall; this room had a window facing the street. I was awake (suddenly), lying on my belly, looking through this gap. This means my bedroom door was wide open, which was unusual when I was in bed. I could also see into that sewing room, meaning that door too was open, which was also unusual; mom kept it closed to keep the cats out.
The sewing room was filled with an intense, white light. It appeared to be coming in through the window, but the light was so bright it was hard to tell. Ambient light from the street was a possibility, but this was far too intense to be a streetlight. The light spilled into the hallway and the glare was such that I couldn’t really make out any details beyond about halfway down the hall.
I sat for some time staring into the light. It hurt my eyes, but I felt like I couldn’t look away from it. I don’t know how long I sat there before I saw the first hint of movement; there was something there, moving down the hallway toward my room. I felt like it had come out of the sewing room, but the glare was still so intense that I didn’t notice the movement until whatever it was had moved into the hallway. It was really just a shadow against the glare— I couldn’t make out any surface details— but it was a very tall, very slim and gangly humanoid form. I could see its torso and its long, spindly arms and legs. Its head was hidden in the glare but I thought it must have been so tall that it would have to bow its head to avoid the ceiling. Two other similar beings followed shortly after the first. They walked very slowly down the hallway, turned, and entered my room.
The being that had entered first stood next to my bed, facing me. The others moved around the room. I got the impression that they were looking at the things in my room; furniture, books, clothes. They didn’t touch anything, but they walked around very slowly and looked closely at things. I have a very clear and distinct memory of hearing the floorboards creak as they moved around. Having walked out of the light, they were no longer hidden in the glare, but it was dark in my room, so I still couldn’t see them very well. This was partly because they seemed to be dark themselves; either their skin or their clothing(?) seemed to be a very dark grey. However, the real problem was that I didn’t look at them.
This is really the strangest part for me. The problem was very clearly not that I couldn’t look at them; I never felt like I was ‘frozen in place’ or ‘mentally paralyzed’ or anything like that. I also never felt as though I shouldn’t look at them, like there would be some terrible consequence for doing so. What I had was a very strong feeling that I didn’t need to look at them. I felt that, OK, they were there, and that was alright; their presence was nothing to be concerned about or even interested in. As a result, while I saw the beings moving around in my peripheral vision, I never bothered to actually turn and look at them. Not even when the one standing near the bed suddenly crouched down to peer directly at my face from a distance of less than a foot. There was just nothing at all surprising or unusual about this. I just kept looking down the hallway, into the light.
The being looked closely at me for a full five to ten seconds, and then straightened up; as if it were a cue, the other two immediately stopped what they were doing and all three moved out the door. They walked back into the light— they had a slow, languid way of walking, as if they were moving through water— and then, after a minute or so, the light slowly dimmed until there was just the light from the street shining through the window. Even then, I wasn’t seized by panic, merely an extremely mild sort of surprise or even bemusement. My thought, before falling back into sleep, was something like “Huh. You don’t see those guys every day.”
And that’s it. The next day I went about my business as usual, and the next day. I didn’t suffer any psychological scars or night terrors or anything like that. I didn’t even really become interested in aliens or UFOs until a few years later. I didn’t have to recover this memory during hypnosis; it was jotted down in my mind like any other completely mundane event, though I’ve never forgotten it. I’ve often wondered if there was an accompanying abduction event that has been blocked, as is often the case with abductees, but that really doesn’t feel right. If this is something that really happened to me, I think I’m in a third class, not an abductee or a contactee but a mere “observee”; whatever those things were, they were just curious. They came, they looked at me, they checked out some of my stuff, and then they just left. And that’s my story about aliens.