Devil’s Visit or Alien Abduction? My Real-Life Otherworldly Encounter
If this tale of otherworldly encounters sprang strictly from my imagination, it would’ve been better set in either a haunted medieval English monastery for the demonic component or in a remote American prairie town for its extraterrestrial element.
But since the story is real, so is the location: a Southern California city named Orange. This slice of suburbia once consisted of well-tended orange groves. By 1988, that acreage had morphed into concrete and asphalt surfaces that sprouted roads, strip malls, and parking lots.
As was typical of condo complexes dotting the area, mine boasted a refreshing swimming pool next to an efficient laundry room/rec center. Green hedges decorated the concrete path that wound their way through 30 or so one-story structures made of stucco walls and synthetic shingle roofs. The complex was unremarkable except for one thing: I had bought my first home here a year earlier.
And in my bedroom, I fitfully slept, bothered by having too many computer manuals to write with not enough time to complete them. Still, in my late 20s, I was focused on advancing my career and earning the salary increases that would pay for my home.
It must have been after midnight or so. I barely opened my eyes to peer at the ceiling fan spinning above me. Instead of seeing the copper-colored medallion anchoring the faux-wooden blades, I noticed a furry bearded head with two horns staring at me.
It grinned silently with malevolent intent.
I quickly shut my eyes to shield myself from the strange apparition. Could I be dreaming? I was aware that I was trying to sleep. I knew where I was and what I was doing. Therefore, I must’ve been fully awake. To confirm what I’d seen, I opened my eyes again.
But my eyelids wouldn’t budge. Something sealed them shut. Despite straining, they would not open.
Suddenly, the creature stood on my left next to my bed, watching me. I couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it. I just felt it: under six feet tall, thick and ponderous but not flabby. It seemed more beast than human but bipedal. Not malevolent or malicious but more concerned with what it had to do than with my well-being.
I tried to move away but was paralyzed and not by fear. A force prevented me from moving any part of my body.
If this was the Middle Ages or I was highly religious, I would have assumed that a demon had come, to torment me. But this modern era made me a man of science. The supposition was ridiculous. The beast next to me could have only been an extraterrestrial. It used some alien technology to freeze me in place before it abducted me.
The creature started to move, lifting one heavy paw after the other silently on the synthetic carpet that covered my concrete slab floor. Circling the foot of the bed, it stopped about halfway to my right. It then oozed onto my mattress and lumbered on top of me.
I tried to get away but my limbs would not move. I tried to scream but couldn’t open my mouth. Finally, I yelled in my head “Stop. Stop! Whatever you are.”
And it did.
It just lay there on top of me.
Why wasn’t it doing anything? Was it waiting for me to respond?
There was only one possible explanation for this. But I needed to test out that theory before concluding it was true.
“Kiss me,” I thought.
And it did.
“Get back on the floor.”
And it did.
“Walk to the other side of the bed.”
And it did.
This being was neither alien nor demon. It was simply a product of lucid dreaming:
The lucid part came from my being awake and aware of the room.
The dreaming part did two things: allowed my mind to create what it wanted to create and paralyzed my body to prevent it from engaging in activities that could be harmful, such as walking into walls. This latter action was known as “sleep paralysis.”
This experience could have easily been misinterpreted as a visit by the devil, a prelude to an alien abduction, or something paranormal. All the signs were there: the inability to move, the strange being, and my initial fright. If I had not read about lucid dreaming before, my imagination could’ve easily run away with me and added more elaborate trappings like the fire of hell or a spaceship. And it would’ve just been as real to me as any dream can be.
As I pondered these possibilities, I drifted off to slumber.
The being returned maybe once or twice more in my twenties for some fun before I slept. A couple of times later, the more typical lucid dream happened. Totally, within the confines of my head, I created entertaining environments peopled by my own characters doing what I wanted them to do.
These episodes seemed to have only one thing in common. They happened during times of stress and in my late twenties. I am now in my fifties and despite my best efforts, my lucid dreams never returned.
Have you experienced lucid dreaming?
© 2019 Aurelio Locsin