Like A Thief in the Night
Interview with B. Nonymous
July 29, 2003
T: I waseighteen years old, at the end of my senior year of high school.Granted, I wasgoing through an extraordinary amount of stress, I was just barelygraduatingdespite the fact that my IQ test showed I was in the genius level. Ihad blownoff high school, it was boring, and at the last minute I had to make upforyears and ace everything. So my stress level was really high. I smokedpot backthen, too, and I thought maybe that was what was going on - the fearinstilledin all the youth about how you went crazy if you smoked pot. But itturns outit wasn’t that at all.
Iwokeup one morning at three o’clock exactly -- I remember because myeyeballs couldturn to see the clock. Otherwise, the rest of my body was paralyzed. Mywholebody had atrophied up in a kind of fetal position, resting on my ass onthe bedin a weird balance. My feet and hands were cramped and bent over, myheartwasn’t beating and I wasn’t breathing - I was just begging totake abreath of air. Then I breathed in and when I laid down I actually splashedinto my bed, it was so soaking, soaking wet.
E: Fromsweat?
T: I don’tknow what it was. It wasn’t urine, it didn’t smell, and it was saltylikesweat. My body was soaking wet with sweat. I’ve been an athlete mywhole lifeand I’ve never sweat that much, ever. I had to take my bedsheets off,and intaking them off - it was the first thing I did, thinking “I’m going toget introuble, I peed the bed,” then I was like, “It doesn’t smell, thisisn’t pee” -I noticed that the farmer’s dogs behind my house in Kansas were goingcrazy,whining as if somebody were blowing a dog whistle. He had about 14 dogsto helphim herd the cattle and they were going crazy. My dog, though - who wasjust afreak, the dumbest dog you could ever meet in your life, cute but dumbas arail, and would bark if somebody farted, barking and chewing the walls- wasasleep. The neighbor’s golden lab, who would bark at anything, wassilent, too,which was rare because he generally barked all night long. That silencewas the one thing that really set me off: it was eerie that the goldenlabwasn’t barking. I thought maybe he was dead. I checked the next day andhe wasfine.
Aninteresting sidebar to this is that the military used to conductoperations inthe cow pasture with their black helicopters, the ones that can run onsilent.They would call everyone in the neighborhood to let you know that atabout twoin the morning five helicopters would set down and people were going tojumpout and jump back in and leave, just a routine practice run on FarmerSharp’sland. So these helicopters -- we’d stay up, it was cool -- would come,guyswould jump out, jump back in, and they’d leave, all in really, reallytightformation - big helicopters, silent, couldn’t hear them at all,but thewind was tremendous. They sounded like vacuum cleaners. That hadn’thappened inyears because they’d shut down the military base in like 1980, maybe1982, whenI was really young.
WhenIwas taking the bedsheets off of my bed that first night, I looked outthewindow and saw what I thought was one of their helicopters, except thatitlooked different. It was sleek, I couldn’t see any blades above it. Iwas inthe second story of my house overlooking the garage roof thatoverlooked thegolf course, and I could see over the neighbor’s house onto the tenthgreen.This thing was hovering, with a quiet, vacuum cleaner-type sound, andthere wasa dog running around on the tee not barking, the neighbor’sdog, withthis spotlight on it, watching it. The spotlight was brighter thananythingI’ve ever seen in my life. It cut a hole through the night. It didn’tjustcreate a circle of light like a stage. I’d been on stage, in theater,and I’dseen really bright lights. This thing was like a fat laser beam. It wassobright that it looked like it was burning the ground. The light cameoff of thefront of this thing that looked like a big shark with windows,probablytwenty yards long -- a big machine, very sleek, like skin, not metal.But itwas vague, so dark and black that I couldn’t make it out exactly.Myuncle is anAir Force helicopter pilot and I’d seen helicopters up close at showswhere Igot into the restricted space, and some of the best helicopters hoverbut eventhey don’t hold perfectly still. This thing didn’t move and didn’t makeanynoise, just sounded like a low-frequency vacuum cleaner, really quietwith this presence to the noise.
Ithought that the whole episode was because of pot. That day, I quitsmoking potand really started hunkering down on my studies. The next night, I wokeup at 3AM soaking wet, no heart beat, not breathing, waiting, wait, wait,wait, gasp,my heart starts pounding, gasp a breath of air in, scared to death,thinking,“Well, I’m going to die if this keeps going on.” I had bruises on thesoles ofmy feet and my hands. I have a memory of being in a pitch-black roomwith abright light on my face. I didn’t hear any voices, but I was answeringquestions. I didn’t even know what the questions were, I was justanswering. Thisbright light is on me and they’re telling me basically to jump out ofthisairplane. I remember thinking, “What airplane?” and all of asudden Iwas in a World War Two-type scenario where I was in an airplane with abunch ofparatroopers and everyone looking at me with this sick, dead look ontheirfaces, everyone afraid. The green light went on up front, but thebright lightwas still there, separate from the situation. Everything was in blackandwhite. I went up to the door and a voice said, “Fuck deck.” I don’tknow whatthat means, but that was the command to jump out of the airplane. Istuck myface out and smelled the air and felt the clouds rushing by and thecrystalsfrom the clouds stinging my face. Then the clouds cleared and I couldsee an aircraftcarrier on the ocean. I remember thinking from what I’d heard and seeninmovies, which was basically where all this knowledge was coming from,“This ishighly weird, I don’t know anything about military but I don’t know anyguyswho jump out of airplanes and try to get onto an aircraft carrier withaparachute, especially paratroop-style, when you can’t control yourparachute.”Every time I thought something like, “This is strange,” thescenariowould change a bit, as if it was being customized to me. My lastthought was,“Well, in real life things aren’t black and white,” and all of a suddeneverything was in color but strangely hued, not true color, like a badTedTurner movie.
SoIjump, turn around, and watch the airplane cruising off in horizontalfashionand getting smaller, thinking, “That’s cool.” I remember checking for atether-- I don’t know how I had all this knowledge, that was the weird thingalso --no tether. I checked for a parachute -- no parachute. I fall almost asif inslow motion. As I pass the aircraft carrier, I just miss it and Irememberthinking, “Well, at least I’ll die and hit the aircraft carrier andthey’llhave my body.” That was my last thought, other than seeing one of theguys inan orange vest and a helmet reach out for me and my hands and my feetstretchout toward the water. I see a tear going down his face as he pulls hishandback at the last second and I slam into the water.
ThenIwoke up with my hands and feet straight up in the air and just my button thebed, soaking wet, my hands and feet bruised. It’s three o’clock, Ibreathe in,then look outside and that thing is floating above the golfcourse againin the same spot. I walk over to the window, the light shines on me --and Iwake up at 6:30 in the morning with my alarm clock’s going off, in acold sweatby the window on the floor, soaking wet, freezing, my bed soaking wet.I rip mysheets off again and throw them in the laundry as I’m going downstairs.Mymom’s starting to wonder what’s going on but she’s not saying anything.
Thiskind of thing went on for fifteen days straight -- I don’t know whetherit wenton longer than that. Every night there would be a new scenario, I onlyremembera few of them. One of them, I was in a house with a German-made gun andI hadto kill a man. I described to my military uncle the German Luger downto a T,how to take it apart, clean it, what kind of bullets it fired. I neverknew anyof this before. I’d seen them in movies maybe, so who knows how much ofthatinformation was already in my head. Another one, I went back in theairplaneagain, except this time they gave me a parachute and were basically,“Sorryabout that, we didn’t know that you needed a parachute.” They didn’tsay it butI remember the sentiment being there: “Our mistake, our bad,here’s yourparachute.”
E: Didthey feel sorry?
T: Itwasn’t even sorry, it was more like, “Well, we didn’t know, here yougo, we’lldo it right this time.” This time, I was checking an altimeter, I knewwhere myreserve chute was, I knew where my first chute was, I remembered thenumber onmy altimeter as to when to pull my chute and how to work my chute. Icalled myuncle again -- my uncle, by the way, was working in the War Department[Department of Defense] at the Pentagon. I talked about the logisticsofparachuting and he asked, “When have you parachuted?” Never, but I knewexactlyeverything, and it was military issue stuff.
Thescenarios went on. There were a couple that were just humorous. Inthem, I wasreenacting things on TV, bad sitcoms, and I remember thinking, “This isnot theway life is.” Just like if you walked into somebody’s house and themother wasstanding by the fireplace with her hand on the mantle and pictures ofthe kidsperfectly dusted and she had a nice housecoat on and an apron and youcouldsmell brownies from the kitchen; and Dad with his tie perfect and hisperfectlycoiffed hair, and the two kids are sitting Indian-style with perfectlycoiffedhair and clean, pressed clothing in front of a television that had aneducational program on it, and the house is just too mysteriously cleanandperfect. And at six o’clock at night when everyone’s relaxing you knockon thedoor and walk in and go, “This is weird, this is not right.” ThatAlfredHitchcockian kind of thing where psychologically speaking there’ssomething soright about this that it’s wrong. I was put in a lot of those types ofsituations where I remember just feeling, “Well, this is strange,” andthen thesituation would change until it was normal, and that’s when I’d wakeup.
Iended up with a few small cuts, one on my left shin, one on the bridgeof mynose, and I kick myself in the pants for this every time but I pulled asmallpiece of metal out of my nose. I dug at it, I wanted it out, I couldfeel it.
E: Itwasn’t put in through your nostril?
T: I don’tknow, it was right up by my eye in the skin. It felt like it was in thebone.Hell, that could have happened in shop class, and I was a very activeathletewhen I noticed these small cuts. But there were a few of them that weretoogeometric, too strange. There were a few on my leg, bruises inpatterns, liketriangles made up of three dots, and a cut like an incision in my shinbone.There’s still a lump like a divot* as if somebody took a bone sample,and ithurt like hell for a long time. Weird bruises, like when I’d be actingout oneof the situations and I’d wake up with the repercussions of it. I can’trememberany typical memories like being on a table, but I would wake up withstrangethings.
E: Was italways the same ship outside or did you eventually not look outside?
T: Onlythe first two times did I see it. The last time I saw the ship -- andit’sfifteen years ago, I can’t remember exactly what order all these thingstookplace in -- was the 14th day. I hadn’t smoked pot in 14 days and I wasdoingwell enough in school, but I was exhausted because I’d stay up until2:59 AM.At one, my dad would come in and say, “Dude, you need to go to bed,”and I’dsay, “Dad, I really need to study.” I didn’t want to tell him yet.
E: So youhadn’t told anyone?
T: Ihadn’t told anyone at all. So he’d go to bed and I’d close my door,which Ididn’t like doing -- I hated sleeping with the door closed, and I’dkeep asmall light on. Then, I would sit up on the edge of the bed fullyclothed withthe bed made. At 2:59 I’d put my books down and just sit there and lookout thewindow. Then, I would wake up at 3:00 AM naked in my bed, soaking wetwith thesheets thrown off, soaking wet, my hair caked down, in that cramped-uppositionwith my heart stopped, not breathing, exhausted, like I’d just beenthrough ahuge ordeal. There’s no doubt that I had been sitting on that bed at2:59,there’s no doubt. I looked out the window and heard the noise -- mostof thetime I could hear the noise but I couldn’t see it, whatever it was,then itwould go away. The dogs would be going crazy out back, then they’dstop; my dogand all the neighbor’s dogs who were just all freaks and barked ateverythingwere all silent.
Thelast piece that I thought was just extraordinarily strange was when Iwent tomy father. He had told me straight up without a doubt that if I evensmoked potonce, I would go to rehab. I don’t know why, but he was scared to deathofdrugs. I think it was just all the propaganda. He’d never done them, hegrew upin a small town where they just didn’t exist, and now there were gangs,guns,drugs, money, rock’n’roll, rap music -- he didn’t know how to deal withthis atall. [After these experiences] I’m thinking I’m just about to graduatehighschool and go to college on a music scholarship, but I’m going to go torehab.Drugs are bad, they screw you up. I am going to tell him that I havetried acidand smoked pot with my friends.
SoIgo to my father after my 14th night of terror. My dad walks in about anhourlate for dinner. The whole family -- my older sister, my two littlesisters, mymom and dad -- is gathered in the kitchen, everybody’s picking at food.My dadwalks in and says hello and I say, “Dad, I need to talk to you,” and Iwas justabout to spill the beans about pot and nightmares -- I wasn’t going totell himwhat happened, just that my heart had stopped beating at three in themorningfor the last half month. He said, “Okay, but I have a littleannouncement Iwant to make to the family first.” So I’m sitting there going over inmy mindwhat I’m going to say and my father says, “You may wonder why I’m anhour late cominghome today. I didn’t want to alarm anybody so I haven’t talked toanybody aboutthis, not even your mother.” My mom’s standing there going, “What?” Hesays,“For about the last 15 days in a row I’ve been waking up at exactlythreeo’clock in the morning with my heart stopped, not breathing, sweatinglike apig. I thought that I was having a heart attack, so I went to thedoctor andthe doctor said it runs in the family, it’s a normal sleep arrhythmiathing,and it’s not dangerous, it’s just related to stress. I have a cleanbill ofhealth, I’m doing great. I just want you to know your dad is healthy.I’m notgoing anywhere.” At that point, I locked my mouth. My dad said, “Whatdo youwant to talk about?” I said, “You know, Dad, it can wait until aftergraduation,I’m glad you’re healthy,” and he forgot about the whole thing.
Thefunny thing about “it runs in the family” and it being normal, isneither of ushave had it happen since.
E: So whatdo you think was behind that?
T: Goodquestion, I don’t know. It really sparked my interest the last time wetalkedand you were saying that it’s possible that people can be getting intoyourmind, and I hadn’t even told you about my experience. That was my wholeexperience -- it was very mental and seemed to manifest itselfphysicallysometimes in exhaustion, bruises, cuts.
E: Butwhat I mean is, what do you make of your father saying he had theidenticalthing happen to him?
T: I don’tknow, and I’d be afraid to ask him. My father is a man of extraordinarylogic.I think if I really dogged him, his answer would be something like,“Let’s saythere is mind control, let’s say that the space aliens are abductingme, whatcan I do about it? Nothing. Worrying about it is not going to solve athing. Ihave a job to do, a family to support. Don’t bug me.”
E: But youdon’t at all doubt that he said the truth -- that he had been goingthrough theidentical thing?
T: He wentto the hospital, he was scared he was having heart attacks, and he isdefinitely the kind of guy who would wait 15 days to go to thehospital.
E: Yourfather’s position was chief executive of a large automotive division intheMidwest?
T: Yes.
E: Hedidn’t indicate that he had seen any ship out on the golf course.
T: No.From his room, he could not have seen it. I just know that on the 15thnight, Ihad my last little experience and it went like this: They didn’t speakto mebut I could understand their sentiment. When I say ‘they,’ I don’t knowwho itis. They could have been very human or very extraterrestrial -- I don’tknow.Somebody was communicating with me, that I know, even if it wassomethinginside of me that was communicating with me and I had some sort ofexperiencewith a part of my brain that most people don’t get to touch. Perhaps weare allpart of an evolution, the first people shown, like in Contact -- like“No, we’re going to show you this. You’re not ready for it yet, butshowing youis the first step in that evolution. Generations from now, you’llunderstandmore of it and actually be going through this in school.”
Atthevery end, I felt at peace. I had my last little experience away from mybody. Iwas with them, whoever they are. They basically said, “Thank you foryour time”-- this was a feeling, not words, that they gave me, almost like whenyou stareinto your lover’s eyes and you know how they feel. I didn’t seeanything exceptthe light. It was, “We’re going to leave you alone now, thanks,” like“Thankyou for your experience, thank you for your knowledge,” almost as if“We justrealized we’re causing you a lot of stress so this is ending tonight.”
Iwokeup at three in the morning really relaxed, really comfortable. Mysheets wereoff me again, but I was warm. The moonlight was pouring over the garageroofand I felt so at peace. I got up and went to the window and looked atthe moon,but the light coming down was coming down directly from above mywindow, notfrom the moon. I looked up and saw the light and the bottom of thatthingfloating so close that it could have bumped the house. It was big. Irememberlooking up at it and feeling completely peaceful. I could hear thevacuumcleaner noise. I sat down on my bed looking out the window as it spedoff in anarc, leaving a streak of light with a little rainbow in it. I know thatis soET, but I was awake and I saw it.
Thereare a lot of things about that experience that have left me wondering,but Idon’t stay up at night, I don’t worry about it. Since then, I have notbeen thesame person. For example, on September 1, 1993 at 7:58 AM I was hit byan18-ton grain truck going 70 miles an hour and was crushed into themetal of thecar. The metal crushed me but left a one-inch cavity around my body; itdidn’ttouch me. The other people in the car were fine, perfectly fine. Itfreakedeveryone in town out. You could see every detail of my face and ears inthemetal. It hurt me but it didn’t penetrate my skin. I had an after-lifeexperience so similar to my experiences in 1989 that I was comfortablewith it.
E: Whatwas the after-life experience?
T: Giantbright light and a guy talking to me without moving his lips. He didn’tsayanything but I understood his sentiment. “You’re done, congratulations.Walktoward the light.” And I said out loud, “No, I want to go back, I wantto makemusic.” The sentiment that came back was a smile -- I could barely seehim, itwas so bright and it felt so good to be there. “It’s going to hurtreally bad,it’s going to be extraordinarily painful for years if you go back,” butI said,“I don’t care, I’m going back.” I woke up in my body after theparamedics hadpronounced me dead on the scene and couldn’t cut me out of the car. Iwent backout of my body again and said to the guy, “Dude, I’ve got shit to do”-- that’sexactly what I said. I was getting perturbed but was also laughingbecause Ifelt so good there. He laughed and his sentiment was, “You’re a reallycutehuman for wanting to go back to that place,” meaning this place, thisfuckupworld, this existence that we live in right now where we really don’tknowanything, we’re like babies, like amoebas. That was the sentiment Igot.
Iwokeup in my body in so much pain. So I went through fixing my body andlearning towalk and talk and use my arms again, the whole nine yards. And theweird partabout it was when I went to the hospital, they said, “You’reparalyzed,” but Igot myself up off the table and walked out of the hospital: I didn’twant to beparalyzed so I wasn’t. I went back to the hospital and they said, “Youneedbrain surgery and due to what happened to your spine, neck, and skull,by thetime you’re thirty the chances are one hundred percent that you’regoing to bein a wheelchair, you won’t be able to walk anymore because you havespinaldegeneracy.” I’m 33. I’m in excellent shape. I’m a hairdresser, one ofthehardest jobs on your back that there is. I’ve done construction andI’ve neverexperienced back stress like I do doing hair. Your arms are up in theair andyou’re standing on a hard surface all day. I’m not experiencing anybackproblems at all.
Thentwo years later at two in the morning I’m riding my bike and somegangsterscome up, call me “Cracker,” and hit me in the back with a giant maglight. Ireach out and grab the guy’s arm on the way down and broke his arm.Then theyturned their car violently toward me and ran over me. Just to prove tomyfriends that it happened, I stood up, bleeding, traumatized, my calfthe sizeof a watermelon, and walked with my bike bent in half to a local coffeeshop.Tire marks ran from my ankle all the way along my leg, across my asscheek, andover my shoulder, just missing my head. The owner and one of my friendsbandaged me up. Instead of going to the hospital, I went to work thenext day.It turned out the kids had stolen the car that ran over me and theywere injail, so I never filed a police report. They had killed the lady theystole thecar from.
E: What doyou attribute all of this superhuman --
T: I’vehad the strangest things happen. There were other things that havehappenedwhen I’ve healed and shouldn’t have. My healing abilities arephenomenal. Likethat flu last winter when everyone was sick as a dog for a week. I haditexactly four hours -- I timed it. I sweat like a pig, stunk really bad,changedmy clothes, I was fine, it was over. I feel extraordinary. I feel likeI canthink twice as many thoughts as anybody else in the same amount of time.
Iknowso many people that almost seem like they don’t have a soul. Theydrink.They’ll be at the bars. They work so they can make happy hour and theneat andwatch TV. That’s their life, that’s all they want. They don’t wantanythingelse. That reality is much more of a mystery to me than abduction ormindcontrol. Talk about mind control! Where’s their creativity? What aretheyleaving behind as their legend besides just pushing out some kids.Anybody cando that. The vast majority of people I know don’t want anything exceptto getdrunk or watch TV. They have no souls, they want nothing. Theseare thesame people who can go and hear one of the finest musicians in theworld andfeel nothing, and the only reason they’re there is because it’s popularto bethere, not because they can genuinely say, “That moved me.”I talk tovery fewpeople who are moved by my music or anyone else’s. Where is ourcollectiveconsciousness? Where is there a place for someone like me? I feelreally,really alone. I don’t know if that has anything to do with what Iexperienced.Perhaps it is due to my experience; perhaps it’s just due to beingsmart andcreative. I paint, I write songs, I like photography. I want to createthings,I want to say, “I did that.” I think about George Orwell every day. Ithinkabout the soma holiday that Aldous Huxley wrote about -- now,we haveProzac.
E: Youmentioned some military connection in your family --
T: Both ofmy uncles -- my father’s brothers -- are Air Force, one is a colonelandsurgeon, the other worked in the Pentagon and was a rescue helicopterpilot inVietnam. He’s the one I asked about space aliens. I asked him, “Do theyexist?”and he said, “I don’t know if you’re asking the right question.” So Iasked,“Is there something else out there?” and he said, “Well, I would sayit’s classified,but what do you think?” And I said, “I kind of believe in them,” and hesaid,“Oh.” He’s very vague, he won’t give anything away. He’s verypassionately trueto his job and believes in it, which has also made me a little morecomfortable. If a guy that high up who knows everything is like “It’sall goingto be okay,” and is a staunch Christian and a really good guy, I kindof thinkit’s okay, too. I don’t think that the government is out there to hurtpeople.I think that there are bad government people. I think George Bush isscrewingthings up, I don’t think it’s intentional, I don’t think he’s evil, Ithinkhe’s selfish and his family is selfish and they want a dynasty, muchlike theKennedy’s, except they’re getting away with it.
Myfather’s third brother is rumored to be in the CIA. My mother’s fatherwas Navyand killed in a submarine at the end of World War Two, and mygrandmotherremarried another Navy guy.
E: Yourbrothers aren’t military?
T: No.
E: Youmentioned the helicopters from the base near your house that waseventuallyclosed. How far was the military base from your house?
T: Youcould probably ride your bike there. It’s where they trained all theA10’s forDesert Storm and was little more than a small landing strip. Here’sanotherfunny thing. In the winter of 1992, I went to Mexico City to the AztecTemplesof the Sun, Moon, and Stars. (I also went back in 1993 after theaccident andhung out with my parents while my dad was working there.) My uncle andI are upon top of the Temple of the Sun. We’re both six-foot-four and look likegiantsamong the Mexicans who are five-foot-four. Everyone’s marveling at usandtaking pictures of us. I had long blond hair and babies are running upandsaying, “He’s an angel, he’s an angel.”
Myuncle’s looking at the geographic layout of the temples and says, “It’sfunnyabout this layout. This is the exact north-south size and layout of amilitarylanding strip.” I said, “Like you could land an airplane on it?” Hesaid, “No,I’m talking about military planes. All the fire pits would act astriangulationbeacons to land something from space. The space shuttle could landhere, it’sbig enough. And the Temple of the Stars would be a perfect place tokeep armoryand fuel.”
TheTemples were built so that once a year on solstice the sun hits astatue justright and creates a giant shadow of a snake a quarter of a mile long.
[Alapse in the tape.]
E: ...Jesuits.That’s interesting.
T: Butafter I was pulled out of that school, my parents vowed to never let mylittlesisters go to Catholic school. They went to public school all the waythroughand were fine.
E: How isyour older sister doing?
T: She’scrazy as a loon.
E: She’snot in an institution?
T: No, butshe should be.
E: Whatare her symptoms?
T: Wildparanoia about my parents. Something happened to her and I don’t knowwhat itwas. It wasn’t my father or my mother because they’re good people. If Ididn’tknow any better, I’d say that she was just extraordinarily sexuallyabused. Shehas every symptom of somebody that was absolutely raped over and overagain.
E: She wasfirst-born, then your two brothers. What do they do for a living?
T: One isa real estate investment firm underwriter, the other is a salesman.Neither weremilitary. My dad and mom would have killed us if we’d gone in themilitary. Mytwo brothers are extraordinarily well-adjusted, cool family men. Iwouldconsider myself well-adjusted, but I’ve chosen my own path.
E: Nodreams have come out of that period?
T: What doyou mean?
E: Strangedreams.
T: I havestrange dreams every single night about life in general. A lot arepsychic,things that actually end up happening. I don’t like thinking about ittoo muchbecause that kind of ruins it. I had a dream about the record labelpeople thatI was with, that they were into drugs and alcohol and were crazy. Andbam! Itwasn’t more than two years later that their drug and alcohol use brokeup theirrecord label. I think the guy literally lost his mind. He’s not normalanymore,he can’t talk to me. He pulled a gun on me, for God’s sake. Since then,I’velearned that a lot of his paranoid delusional behaviors are symptomaticofcrystal meth use.
Ihada dream that I went to hair school and became a successful hairstylist. I fellinto hair school. It wasn’t even like I had a choice. It was there infront meof me and I did it. But the way the dream happened and the way reallifehappened, it was very similar, very scary.
ThenIhave bizarre dreams about being in another world where there are otherlifeforms that actually live in the earth that look like cartooncharacters.They look kind of like this -- I’ve been drawing this since I was alittle kidwhen I had a recurring dream. [Draws illustration.] The mouthtakes upthe whole body. They’re in cages filled with dirt. -- When I was sixyears old,I had a recurring dream that resulted in my getting so scared to getout of bedthat I started pissing the bed, so my dad had to come down and get meto go andpee at four o’clock every morning -- or three o’clock, thatwould bebizarre. A gray would come and get me when I was six years old. Ithought itwas Casper the Friendly Ghost, except this thing had legs and arms andwasgray. It wasn’t until later when I saw the pictures of grays that Ithought,“Oh my God, dude, that wasn’t Casper the Friendly Ghost. No wonder hewas sofucking mean.” This thing was mean.
E: Whatwould it do?
T: Itwould scare the living hell out of me and then take me places. I don’trememberwhat went on, but I wouldn’t sleep because I was horrified of thisthing. Itwould come into my room. It had its own light to it, as if a differentlightwere cast on it that wasn’t cast on the room. My brothers never woke upeventhough we slept in the same room and I would scream at the top of mylungs. Noone in the house would wake up. I would scream and say, “I’m sorry, I’msorry,I don’t know what I did, leave me alone, I’m sorry.” The funny thing ismybrother saw it also, and he would joke with me about it and tell me itlivedunder the stairs, or lock me in the closet for ten seconds and tell meit wasin there. He said it was Casper the Friendly Ghost’s evil twin brother.
E: So hesaw it, but for him it was a joke?
T: Yeah.He is absolutely golden. Nothing touches him. That guy has had lifehanded tohim on a silver platter, but he’s been thankful for every second of it.He gotaway with everything.
E: Did youever mention what happened to you?
T: I’vementioned it, but we don’t talk about it.
E: Does helive near your family?
T: Yeah,near where we grew up.
E: Yourother brother lives in California. Is he like that brother?
T: He’sweird. He has weird religious issues. Here’s another weird one. Hislittlesix-year-old daughter called me and said, “You’re coming out to visit,”and Isaid, “Yeah.” After talking a while, I asked, “Did you dial the phoneyourself?” and she said, “Yes, you’re on speed dial. Oh, before you go,Uncle_____, be careful when you sleep tonight.” I asked why and she said,“Becausethe space aliens are after you and only you.” I said, “Where did youhearthat?” and she started to giggle, “They’re in the closet, I know theyare.”
I’mareally emotional being. My most important communications are throughemotion. Ihad a dream when I was dating a girl a year or more ago that she had mybabybackstage of one of my shows. She wrapped it up and handed it to me,and a beamof light came out of the baby and met a beam of light coming out of me,and thetwo beams of light started exchanging information. It was like seeing anewcolor or witnessing an event that you’d never imagine witnessing. Ifelt anemotion in that dream that was more potent than any emotion. Ifemotions areKoolaid, this emotion was gasoline -- it stung, it was so intense, asif I hadopened up a new part of my brain.
In1996, I lived in a duplex next door to a guy who had had similarexperiences.We shared a deck and both worked nights, so at around four in themorning we’dboth be getting home from work and so we’d sit and talk. We were bothafraid tosleep, that’s why we worked nights. He surrounded his house with blueChristmaslights to prove to the aliens that he was friendly, but he was reallyscared ofthem. He said that his father had been involved with them since he wasa littlekid. His story was very similar to mine.
E: Hisfather’s story or his story?
T: Hisstory. One night I was lying in bed and there was this light. I wentout ontothe front porch and there he was, my neighbor. We were both drawn tothe lightcoming from behind some trees. It looked like an airplane, but itwasn’tmoving. It was a clear summer night. Then, it went off and it wasn’tthere. Hebelieved in their presence strongly.
Foryears and years, I have had such bad experiences with sleeping atnight. I’mstill horrified because as friendly as they can be, there’s somethinghorrifying about somebody being able to be in your house right next toyour bedwhile the doors are locked. It’s not right.
E: So Imust have misunderstood: When you were paralyzed in bed when you wereyounger,they were in your room?
T: Onlywhen I was small. I’ve always had a fear when I’m going to sleep thatthere’ssomebody else there. I feel a presence, a meddling presence, not afriendlypresence. I lock up the house, check the closet, close every window,put myselfway under the covers. I’m scared to death of sleeping, I hate sleeping.
E: So whatdo you do, stay up late?
T: I stayup until I pass out. That’s my normal routine. I sleep much better inthe day.On my days off, I sleep until noon.
E: Arethese beings more active at night? The 3:00 AM thing comes up over andover. Ofcourse, that’s a circadian rhythm, a planetary rhythm shift at 3:00 AMand 3:00PM.
T: Really?Interesting. Coming at night makes more sense. If I were somebody inany lineof work that was trying to remain secretive, I would do it under thecover ofdarkness -- as the Bible says, like a thief in the night.
E: What’syour ex-neighbor doing now?
T: I don’tknow, I lost touch with him totally.
E: How didyou happen to move in next door to him?
T: Theapartment was open.
E: So itwas just serendipitous that you ended up next door to a guy who hadalso hadsimilar experiences as a kid?
T: Yeah.He too had paralysis and mind control like, “Hey, live this experience,we’regoing to watch you,” like a rat in a cage, and then you wake up. He andhisfather both had those experiences.
E: It isinteresting, isn’t it, that your father said that he had the same thinghappento him while it was happening to you.
T: I alsothink it’s strange that when it happened, me and my dad were the onlytwo malesin the house. I could see my father totally writing it off as a dream,nomatter what.
E: What isyour mom like?
T: My momis a sweetheart. Normal, June Cleaver, good strong Catholic. Religiontakescare of the unexplained, that’s God working in mysterious ways, don’tworryabout it. Guess what, dude? I decided I’m going to ask some questions.--Actually, I’m not that curious about it. I’m not that worried aboutthings Ican’t control, I just want to make my art.
* divot: The turf that is scraped up, and the mark left in the fairwaywhere theturf had been that a golf iron leaves after a fairway shot.