Author’s Note: this what happens to you if you look at the night sky too long after drinking too much wine. Really. Be careful. You never know who is listening.
Oh wait. You do.
I felt them calling to me again last night. ‘Feeling’ and ‘calling’ may not be the best words, but in succession I’d considered ‘reaching out’ to me, ‘beckoning’ and ‘summoning’ and they didn’t come any closer. Even calling out doesn’t quite describe it. I’ll get back to this in a few minutes.
What am I talking about?
Well I and some others were sent to this planet to participate in assessing the worthiness of the inhabitants for inclusion in the universe’s grand scheme of things. Of course they are not supposed to know that we inhabit their bodies and neither apparently are we to know our own reality. Them knowing would change everything and possibly lead to mass psychosis. Our knowing would undoubtedly change our perceptions of the planet’s inhabitants and our relationships with them.
How did I become aware? A few years ago I started to have these odd feelings, feeling of loneliness and of not belonging here which were often followed by a desire for it to end – for the end of my life. These feelings started when I surmised that I did not belong here, was seeing a very different world from what others around me were seeing. I began to feel, no that is wrong, to know that this world is interconnected, that all things and all people, dead and living are interconnected in a way that is not apparent to those not gifted with this enabling sight. It surprised me to find that this was a rare thing. Who was I to have this gift? Or perhaps, this curse?
That was the first step.
More recently I had been going through a dark period in my life. I experienced profound sadness at my failures in my relationship with my long-time spouse; sadness at my failure to be able to let go of my work and retire like so many of my age had done and at my failure to achieve my own life goals. Overlaying all I felt a deep sadness that I and my generation had not achieved the goals of our youth to create equality between the sexes and races, peace between nations and a sustainable Earth.
Much introspection took place during these times. I couldn’t turn to religion; I had tried and rejected that many years ago. It was too much about controlling human behaviour for some not-too-clear purpose and not enough about explaining things, about the reality of this world. An informal study of modern physics left me with the notion that the universe was bigger than we could observe; bigger than we could ever appreciate and that the things we saw we saw because we were intended to see them by something greater; a something that included all of us on Earth and everyone on every occupied planet of the universe, past and present, dead and alive and indeed, every physical thing that made up that universe. The totality of things, I came to call it. It is alive, intelligent, and active in our lives and the lives of all sentient beings and the existence of all things, everywhere. Wouldn’t it be good to have this? Couldn’t it be good? But apparently they are not of much help to us. That, apparently, is by design and intent.
So, rejecting religion in favour of this more believable belief, I called out to my long dead father in the hope that I would receive counsel from him. Not through prayer, but simply by directing my thoughts to him specifically, residing in some unknown but very real state in the totality of all things. I had a feeling that when I called him, he was being summoned from someplace or something to answer me, just within a few seconds and just for me. I felt that he did not exist as himself, as an individual, but had been reassembled for the occasion from the totality of things and re-formed just for this time and place to speak to me. The same transpired when I called out to my mother and grandmother.
The only problem was that once they were in my presence, or I in theirs, if you like, I had little to say to them and they too, to me. In response to my pleas I recall clearly being told, ‘You are doing a fine job. Keep it up.’ The simplicity of this shocked me; but it was not profound enough to be transforming. Through repeated experiences I became aware that others unrelated to me also came to counsel me. I was apparently doing a ‘good job’ of evaluating this place, of creating progeny, of changing the minds and actions of those around me in a positive way, in creating a better world in fact. At least to them. Given the circumstances, I found this hard to believe, easy to minimize, easy to ignore and to dismiss.
One day I read an article in a magazine that said that humans contain the DNA of many of Earth’s creatures – that we are in fact the current incarnations of a species that is a blending of many creatures, not all of which would be deemed sentient or even recognizable by most persons. Perhaps this is how the alien in me was formed. I do not know. It is, in the end, probably irrelevant.
I came to believe though that I was a member, perhaps even a leader of a large group of aliens who currently inhabit Earth person’s bodies. Our ‘ship’ is in silent running orbit around the Earth, invisible to visual and radar detection. They are to coin a phrase – ‘out there’. Just out there. How many are there are out there? I do not know.
Tired of it all, one night, in desperation to escape, I called out to my companions, asking, no begging, to be taken up; taken back. They replied that they were currently on the other side of the Earth and would not be in position to recover me for some hours. In the interim I pondered my fate. It became apparent to me that my recovery would mean certain death for the human I inhabited and somewhat reluctantly I called it off. This was repeated on a number of occasions and each time, at the last moment, still feeling personally poorly served, I called off my recovery. It happened often enough that I am sure I sensed some annoyance in my partners.
Had I been unaware of my reality I would never have thought of asking for this. It would be interpreted as a sign of mental instability or in the least, perceived as a construct of a delusional mind. Perhaps even by myself.
I no longer am useful here. By stumbling upon the truth of my being here, I bias my analysis of this planet’s readiness for contact by the others. I have therefore outlived my usefulness to the mission. I feel I should leave, yet I cannot sentence my human to certain death, nor can I it seems, sever my ties to my spouse, my progeny, to the society I live in and oddly, to this somewhat alien world. So I persevere; I suffer; I continue to exist in this duality.
Regardless, when our mission is completed they will come for me. At that time I will have no say in my fate, nor anyone else’s.
It doesn’t matter Doctor, what you do. You can continue to keep me locked in this small dark room, constrained by this strait-jacket and drugged, compliant and senseless. It will be of no consequence. When they come and take me, willingly or not, I will be gone from this Earth.
And then you will know the truths of which I speak.
But then, maybe you already do.