My experiences began when I was around three years old, and I truly believe that they started before that. According to my mother and older siblings, if anyone was the least bit unfamiliar to me they could not go near my crib, and if they did, I screamed my head off. It was almost as though a stranger's touch, or even their look was very painful.
Looking back at my experiences, I don't recall for sure if a UFO was ever around when I had my encounters. I do remember everything else though … the strange beings, the sensation of slow motion, the feeling of being weightless, the communication always being telepathic, and I especially remember their eyes. I could see my reflection in them! But most of all, I remember feeling like I was becoming one with them. Now that I’m older, and have a better understanding of “the other side,” I’m no longer afraid.
The first experience that I remember fairly well happened around 1968. I was wearing a long nightgown, and that makes me think it was during the fall or early winter. I was lying in bed on my stomach, my favorite position, when I felt a familiar feeling of doom. I always got it when they were around, and I said to myself, “Oh no! Not again!”
I felt something on the top of my head almost immediately, and as the sensation traveled down the length of my body, it felt like I was being enveloped by melted wax. As soon as the flow reached my stomach, I found myself in a different part of the room, but I was still in the other part also. It was like the room had been cut in half, and I was in both places.
Then I heard someone say, "let's play," and I stood up on my bed and began to play ring around the rosy with a very small grayish being. The being sensed my fear and metamorphosed into “Davy Jones,” from the Monkeys. Remember him? When that happened I wasn't afraid anymore, and we just played and sang songs, but it was all in slow motion.
After a while the grayish being "telepathically" said to me, "It’s time for us to go now." I told him I was afraid and that I didn’t want to go. But I knew in my heart that I didn’t really have a choice.
While holding my hand, the being placed its other hand on my forehead to cover my eyes, and I made no effort to fight him. That’s all I remember, and actually I didn’t remember that much until I was an adult. I did not realize that those experiences had actually happened until much later in life, and my mother was the main reason for that. She had always told me that my encounters were just bad dreams.
This may seem strange, but after I remembered that experience I began to recall many others that involved an entity that I had labeled as, “The Black Witch.” Those events were actually before my encounter with the grayish being. And I think they came from a whole different realm. Unlike the grayish being, the Witch was mean to me. When she came into my room at night, she'd jerk me from my bed and pull my hair. I always fought her, but I wasn’t strong enough to get away. But that wasn't the worst part … she made me see my family in a way that wasn’t natural.
I think I should explain what I mean by that. The Black Witch dragged me from my bedroom, which was upstairs, and in the blink of an eye we'd be in the living room downstairs. And we didn't use the stairs. We just passed, lightning fast, right through doors, walls, or whatever else was in the way. When we got to the living room, all of my family would be there … but they weren't. They were actually upstairs, sleeping in their bed. Shortly after the Witch and I came into the living room, my family would point at me and begin to laugh. They thought the scene in front of them was funny … simply because the only thing they could see was me crying as I struggled to pull away from my invisible tormentor.
I know that you probably think I had a nightmare … but I tell you from the bottom of my heart that I did not. Everything that happened was real, and the Witch was real. My mother always said, "Donna, how can the Witch be real if the rest of us were upstairs sleeping? How could we possibly be in the living room if we were upstairs?"
At that point I’d just cry. Everything felt so hopeless. No one could possibly understand how I felt, or how afraid I was. My sister, who was three years older than me, told me that just about every morning when she woke, that I'd be in bed with her. It's a funny thing though … I still don’t remember that part.
That was the very beginning of my experiences, and soon I'll share more. There is one important factor that I think you should be aware of. My younger sister, by eleven months, shared the bedroom with me, and she doesn’t remember ever seeing anything except me walking in my sleep. As I mentioned in the beginning of this article, everything began around 1968, and continued almost every night for a couple of years. Each time it happened my mother had to bring me back to my bedroom.
A parting thought. People do not remember their dreams, and if they do, it's not for very long. And do you know why? The answer is simple. People typically remember their own thoughts … but dreams are not conscious thoughts. If what I had were dreams, why, after so many years, can I remember them, so many of them, so very vividly?
My bio:
I'm one of four children. and I've always been very artistic. I love to write lyrics and sing, and I have been in several bands. On the spiritual side, I'm a very open-minded person, but I do not particularly believe in "religion." I think that's primarily due to the experiences that I've had. I was raised in a family of "Born Again Christians" and consider myself to be a Christian. God is my all in all, and Jesus Christ is my eternal blessing.
