February 19, 2012




SUMMARY: I wait for someone from the sky to arrive.


CIRCA Mid to Late Summer 1970
Age: 8-9
RF# 11

The memory that follows has popped into my head on and off since I was about eight years old.

PARTICIPATING. This begins as a vague memory of me exiting the hallway door of the three-story apartment building where I grew up in Paterson, New Jersey.

PARTICIPATING. The rest is vivid: It's summertime in the wee early morning hours (about 2 or 3 AM?) and I'm in my pajamas. I sit on the third or so porch step[1] (from the top) and wait for someone to arrive. I wait so long that I feel they'll never arrive. It definitely feels like more than an hour. It is breezy and the cool wind penetrates my PJs. The longer I wait, the colder that breeze feels. I hear the tree branches and leaves rustling in the wind, and I feel the air cold on my arms through the thin fabric. I keep wondering why it is so quiet, why is no one outside hanging around like they often did. I remember how the the trees at curbside in the light of the light-post (on the corner several feet behind me) cast moving shadows on the ground.

I busy myself with various thoughts but they keep coming back to whether "they" are going to come--I grew tired of waiting and felt like they were never going to arrive. [NOTE: This is another feeling that has remained with me my entire life]. This clear, vivid memory ends with me still sitting on the steps that are alongside the building wall, my left shoulder near the (black, metal) hand rail.

OBSERVING. A vague memory of a round, light colored craft hovering just above the curb at the corner (near the black lamppost) in front of the apartment building I lived in. I'm standing on the sidewalk, watching and the street lamp is lit as it usually was. End of this memory.

NOTE: I have a strong feeling there is a strong connection between this memory and a dream I had of a similar event[2]: [to be posted to this blog later and a link added here].

A tall being has arrived.

PARTICIPATING. Time elapse/Parts forgotten. I'm in the sky and sitting on a long, thin broomstick-type object--like I would a horse--behind a slender being[3] who is directing the object's movements (in my earliest memories, I called the being a witch). I hold onto the being or something so I don't fall because we are moving quite fast in the sky high above the rooftops. Not as high as the moon, I don't think. We were zooming along horizontally and the faster and higher we went the colder I got--the cold air easily penetrated my thin summer pajamas. [NOTE: I'll never forget how morbidly chilled I was. Hate that feeling to this day] The ride was no longer fun, because I was freezing. I told the being that I wanted to get down because I was too cold. I could sense that this being was very annoyed with me. What I was told--telepathically, I guess--was that they had went through a lot of trouble to take me for a ride. The being said, "You begged us (so many times) and now you're too cold?" I replied, "I can't help it. It's cold up here."

I've been returned to the surface and now I'm near the corner, walking alongside a tall, slender human or humanoid (face not remembered) that is chalk white with white draping clothing that reminds me of robing or layered rags. This being is at least 6.5 feet tall maybe taller. He is mildly amused that I wanted down from the sky. He explains the being's annoyance with me (telepathically?): that it took a lot of planning to set up the ride I had asked them for several times. This being is really nice, and I know that he loves me. We seem to be related somehow or perhaps he is my guardian. He feels like a father-figure.

OBSERVING. We sit next to each other on the wide stairs (original construction, center of top step, me to the being's right--I always see this image as if I'm observing, never as a participant.)

The being is the same as in Memory 4 and dressed identically, but in this memory we are already seated beside each other in the same spot as above. This is our final meeting and it is a somber moment. He has come to say goodbye, to tell me that he's not coming again for a long time. He tells me (telepathically?) the reason he won't be coming anymore is, "If (I?) continue to visit you won't assimilate, won't blend in." I know that he means I won't live my life as a human being should, that I won't integrate. I don't like to hear this, and I know that he isn't any more happy about than I am, but this is what I came to do, to live as a regular person. I sense sadness from this being. [NOTE: For some reason I cannot visualize his face.] I begin to cry because I don't want to be left alone. He gently but firmly tells me to go upstairs. I get up and enter the left door of the hallway[4].

Same as Memory 5 except: I begin to cry because I don't want to be left alone. The being and I hug. He gently but firmly tells me to go upstairs. I stand and prepare to turn to the door but I wave goodbye, then enter the left door[4]. This version, for whatever reason, is now seen as if I'm observing and not as a participant. Vaguely, I still remember the feel of the hug.


This was a later construction of the porch where the stairs are positioned along the front of the building to the left. At some point in my youth the stairs had been reconstructed from their original position (according to my mother) which was down the center front of the building (She has a picture of this). In the memories with the tall being, the porch stairs are are down the center, but in the memories where I'm waiting for the being to arrive, the stairs are to the left. Perhaps there was more than one visit and they have jumbled into one or two events.

In this dream a UFO that hovered a couple feet above the road at curbside at dusk and its presence altered time--any cars in the vicinity ceased to move as if frozen in time.

When the memory resurfaced of this being and me in the sky, the best way I could describe the slender object we rode on--or the best way my young mind could interpret the event--was to acquaint it with something thin like the stick of a broom. Did I see a broom literally? No, but that's what I called it.

As to the being, the same applies. What does the average child know of Aliens? Not much. Did I see a witch in witch's garb? No. At the time I had a memory of its clothing being dark, but now only have vague dark shadows where the being would have been. How does a child explain how she ended up in the open sky, flying over rooftops on an object thin as a stick? She uses what she has seen and read: Witches ride in the air on a thin object called a broom. A child's metaphor, I suppose.

What should be asked is what really happened on those visits. Was the event a small part of a larger scenario that had been happening on and off for years? Was the remembered event a screen memory that is slowly fading to one day reveal what the "witch" and "broom" really was?

Aside from being confused about the position of the porch stairs and which memory preceded which, I notice that in the memories I exited and entered the left door, but it was the right door I normally used. I am yet to have a clear memory of walking up or down those hall stairs during one of those forays. The chief memory usually begins moments after I've stepped onto the porch. Of late, there is a vague memory that pops into my head of me walking down some of the porch stairs in the dark. One thing I can say about that (left) side of the hall is that it did seem darker or dimmer than the right side which, itself, wasn't always so bright.

As to the six memories, I'd say there were at least two visitations and the difference in the position of the stairs might allude to visitations that occurred over a period of years. Roughly until about age 8 or 9.

The building was a six family apartment building with three families on each side, each with its own hallway and stairs accessed from the main floor or the uppermost floor and separated by a shared dividing wall. I rarely used the staircase on the left.

LAST UPDATED: February 27, 2012