Thursday, 31 January 2013

A Rude Awakening

A Rude Awakening
By S. E. Bazarsky

The following event that I am about to depict, is a factual account of an experience that took place in Connecticut. I can still remember the vivid details of that hot summer night. It all happened in the early hours of an August morning, in 1987.

Before I continue, perhaps I should first explain some things about myself. I am not a newcomer to the UFO phenomenon. I have been involved in UFO studies for nearly five decades. You can call me a UFOlogist if you wish. The title does not really matter to me. My experiences and knowledge in UFOlogy are vast, and cannot be measured in a mere presumptuous name.

Back in the early 1950s, I had my first UFO sighting. I was always especially interested in space, and often watched science fiction movies and space documentaries on television. In those days UFOs were widely known as flying saucers.

It was also during the early 1950s that I began to acknowledge something strange about myself. I felt like I did not belong here on Earth. I felt like I was a visitor. The body that I inhabited was somehow incorrect, yet I was trapped inside it.

Through the years my interest in UFOs has grown stronger. I have seen the UFO phenomenon grow to an unprecedented number of enthusiasts. And with this great influx of people, the UFO phenomenon has, in fact, become infiltrated with some so-called enthusiasts, who have destroyed the creditability of the entire phenomenon.

I have seen the changes in the way bookstores now display their titles on the subject of UFOs. Books about UFOs and related material, are now found in the occult or New Age section, instead of the general nonfiction section.

The number of UFO organizations and symposiums have also increased through the years. Some symposiums tend to charge too much money for admittance and lectures. I strongly feel that the UFO phenomenon should not be used for monetary gains.

As for me, I tend to stay away from such things as symposiums and organizations, and remain a solitude individual. But, of course, there have been times when I have attended a symposium or some other kind of UFO function, and I always seem to leave with an empty feeling inside.

I seldom ever read material about the UFO phenomenon or listen to lecturers. I want to stay away form what I feel is a lot of misleading information. What I do know and learn about the UFO phenomenon, comes from my own higher level of personal awareness. I often find that whatever information I come into contact with, by way of reading material or lecturers, only coincides with what I already knew.

Through the years I have been abducted by non-human entities, many call the Greys, numerous times. I have remembered some experiences in vivid detail without the use of hypnosis. I have experienced both pain and joy through these encounters, which I see as a positive influence on my life. My personal gain from these experiences, has, in fact, made me a much stronger individual on an intellectual level.

In addition to my being an abductee, I am also a contactee. I have been in communication with the Greys for many years now, and frankly I find the experience very rewarding. In many ways they have helped me through crises, when no one else was there for me. I call them my true friends. After all, the meaning of a true friend is one who remains to help, when others have suddenly gone.

Do I worry about the public ridicule that society imposes on people like me? My answer is very simple: not any more! I have reached a much higher level of personal understanding. I know that people who ridicule on things that they do not understand, are merely feeble and insecure individuals who are just ignorant. I always do my best to ignore them and their kind.

And now that I have laid the groundwork down in my behalf, let me commence with the story. It was early morning when I was abruptly stirred out of a deep sleep. I opened my eyes to a partially moonlit room, and then I saw them.

There were four Greys standing some eight feet away from my bed. Behind the Greys, I could see the lighted dial of the clock, which I kept on a window sill. The time as 2:45 a.m.

Suddenly, I started to toss relentlessly in bed, sweating more and more with each passing moment. I felt no pain but something was definitely trying to invade my body. From time to time, I looked over to the place where the Greys were positioned, and not even once did any of them move any closer to the bed.

Sweat covered my face as I continued to toss restlessly in bed. And through it all, something was still attempting to invade me. I could not see anything by the bed, but I could feel a definite presence of something near me.

Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours. The Greys continued to occupy the same location, and still never moved any closer. I could still see the clock. It was now 4:40 a.m. The room was beginning to become lighter now, as sunrise approached.

Several more minutes passed. Suddenly, I stopped tossing in bed and gave in to whatever it was that was trying to invade me. I felt no pain, in fact, I felt a sense of relief. I then sat up in bed and started to feel my hands and face. For some reason I had a queer feeling that they had transformed me into a non-human form.

As I felt my hands and face, they seemed normal on the outside, but within me, I still had that queer feeling that something was different about me. After a few moments, I turned my attention back to the Greys. I immediately noticed that they were slowly beginning to disappear from sight. In other words, the Greys wre dematerializing before my very eyes.

Within a short time, the Greys were gone. I then promptly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I had to get a look at myself in the mirror. As I looked at myself in the mirror I could see no external changes on my face or hands, but within me, that same queer feeling still persisted.

There was no missing time involved with this experience. I was meant to remember every minute detail. And believe me, I am well-versed in missing time. I have experienced it many times before.

Some months after my 1987 experience, I was summoned to a specific place where I received a token of respect from the ones who had arranged and had participated in the event. There is no need to go into the details about the place or the meeting, for all that is incidental to the token itself.

The token, or more precisely, the artifact, is a clay like specimen, some six inches in length and two inches in width. It weighs approximately one pound. It was fired at an extremely high temperature and when one gently strikes it with a fingernail, it makes a high-pitched ping sound, much like the sound of crystal.

The artifact has been studied by several geologists and anthropologists at Yale University's Peabody Museum of Natural History in New Haven, Connecticut. Their findings have concluded that the artifact does not appear to be of Native American origin. The exact age of the artifact has never been ascertained. Further examination of the artifact is possible, if I so desire it.

Another interesting thing about the artifact is the hieroglyphics. It is obvious that they represent a message. I often think of the artifact as a symbolic messenger, much like the crop circles. And recently, I have begun to manifest the meaning of the message on the artifact. I will not go into the details of the message at this time.

There are skeptics to whom I have encountered through the years, who believe that the artifact is merely a hoax. Their conclusions, I can assure you, are incorrect and deserves no further consideration. The fact remains, the artifact exists. And more importantly, I know its true origin.

That August 1987 experience, and the artifact have changed my life forever. Ever since that experience, I have been going through a continual metamorphosis. My thoughts have become more logical in selective reasoning. Everyday my level of consciousness increases. Each day I find it harder and harder to deal with humankind. That is another reason why I tend to be a solitary individual. I find the metamorphosis, or the Fifth Encounter as I commonly call it, a very stimulating and rewarding experience.

I do not care that I had no witnesses to my experience. I do not need them. Nor do I wish to subject myself to a lie detector test, to prove my authenticity. There is no need to yield to such deplorable methods. The fact remains, it happened. And nothing can ever change that.

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