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Invaision dreams
The second of my UFO dreams occurred in October, a
month before this writing.
I don’t much care about the UFO thing. I believe they
are real. I believe they don’t bode well for humanity. I don’t
see where anyone has gotten to the bottom of the situation,
so I’ve just decided that UFOs are out there or “in there”
and that all of us will have our questions answered when,
on some ominous day, they are unleashed upon this Earth.
And I’m thinking it ain’t gonna be pretty.
But about my dream: I think what stuck with me most after I
had awoken was the reality of my reaction to the invasion.
So without belaboring the point further, this is my
recollection:
It seemed to be a late afternoon in the summer. The sun had
dipped low enough so that the sky was very clear, free of the
glint that makes you squint when looking upward from about 11
a.m. till 2 p.m.
The sky was blue with broken white clouds.
I was standing on the second floor of an old house—not my
residence—and I was next to a window off my right shoulder.
Something caught my eye moving in the sky from my view out
that window. The movement was that of crafts coming out of that
direction on my right to the left, where I picked up the flight of
the craft through another window on that facing side of the room.
The lead craft was standard: orblike with a light atop and below
(This was not at all unlike the craft I saw in the skies over
Vermont in December, 1978, when mass sightings were reported
across the Northeast in major daily newspapers.).
The second of my UFO dreams occurred in October, a month
before this writing.
I don’t much care about the UFO thing. I believe they are
real. I believe they don’t bode well for humanity. I don’t see
where anyone has gotten to the bottom of the situation, so I’ve
just decided that UFOs are out there or “in there” and that all of
us will have our questions answered when, on some ominous
day, they are unleashed upon this Earth. And I’m thinking it ain’t
gonna be pretty.
The following craft was weird. Think of a metallic clothes
hanger, the kind designed with the usual hook and with slouched
sides that lead down to a rack of sorts with horizontal rungs upon
which sets of pants can be hung. It’s like the closet space saver
thing: one hook that can hold eight pairs of pants.
Well, take that structure and envision it horizontally, with
yellow lights at certain juncture points throughout the gridwork,
flying across the sky.
This flying “clothes hanger” did have a certain substance
to it, not as skeletal as the real thing. The craft seemed to be
somewhat, if not opaque, translucent.
I recall watching the progress of the lead craft and the trailing
hangar-like craft, and I said to whomever was there—because I
sensed I was not alone on that second floor—“Well, now we’re
gonna find out exactly what these UFOs are all about ‘cause they
are definitely here.”
As I watched the craft fly out of sight, I wondered what I
could do to either escape from or fight whatever these crafts
would bring us. But I also remember a very realistic feeling of
resignation that there was no getting away from or fighting what
had descended upon us. This was showtime. The mysteries were
about to be revealed.
I never moved from the second floor. I hadn’t yet felt the
compulsion to run. I was still standing by the window, wondering
how everything was going to play out when I looked downward
outside what I suppose was the front of the house.
The ground I was looking at was a kind of a barren expanse
shaded out by circumferential deciduous trees. The ground was
brownish, a sort of mulch blanket layered thick by years of fallen
leaves.
And, as I looked down at this scene, up from beneath this mulch
arose a circular craft as if it had been hiding in this camouflage.
From this craft certain hatches opened and figures emerged from
its interior in solid body suits chrome in color.
At that point, the dream ended. Vyzygoth
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