People ask me all the time if I’ve ever had a UFO experience.
I usually pause, look thoughtful, and say, “Define experience.”
But since you asked, here’s what happened.
It was a quiet evening. I was outside minding my own business, looking up at the stars and contemplating the usual questions — you know, the big ones:
What is consciousness?
Is the universe infinite?
Why does my computer crash exactly when I don’t want it to?
Suddenly a light appeared in the sky.
At first I thought it might be a plane, but it wasn’t blinking. Then I thought it might be a satellite, but it stopped moving.
Stars are not known for stopping.
The light got bigger. Then wider. Then it moved directly overhead and just hovered there like it owned the place.
Now, when a mysterious glowing craft parks itself above your head, there are two possible reactions.
-
Run.
-
Pretend you meant for this to happen.
I went with option two.
Before I could decide whether I should wave politely or hide behind a tree, a beam of light came down and — whoosh — the next thing I knew I was standing inside what appeared to be a very clean, very modern spacecraft.
No doors. No visible engines. No dashboard full of buttons.
Just smooth glowing walls and a quiet humming sound, like the entire ship was running on really good manners.
Three beings were standing there.
Tall, calm, slightly luminous. The kind of people who look like they’ve never once had to stand in line at the DMV.
Nobody spoke out loud.
Instead a voice appeared in my head:
“Welcome aboard.”
Now luckily I’m pretty good at telepathic communication. I’ve practiced it for years and even teach it, so I didn’t panic.
I thought back:
“Thank you. Do you validate parking?”
There was a long pause.
Then I felt something that could only be described as extraterrestrial laughter.
One of them replied:
“Your humor protocols are unusual.”
“Thank you,” I said mentally. “I’ve been working on them.”
They gave me a little tour of the ship.
Everything worked by thought. When they focused on a direction, the craft moved. When they wanted information, it simply appeared.
No keyboards. No steering wheel. No software updates.
Already they were ahead of us.
Soon we lifted away from Earth and the planet slowly rotated below us like a blue marble in a velvet jewelry box.
Beautiful.
One of them communicated again:
“Your species spends considerable time arguing.”
“Yes,” I replied. “We’ve turned it into a national sport.”
They showed me a few things about the universe — nothing classified, just enough to make it clear that the cosmos is a lot bigger and a lot stranger than we usually assume.
Naturally I asked the question everyone asks.
“Are you here to conquer Earth?”
They answered immediately.
“Why would we want to manage that much paperwork?”
Fair enough.
After a while the ship curved back toward the planet. City lights sparkled below like a thousand tiny campfires.
One of them said:
“You will return now.”
A moment later I was standing exactly where I had been before.
Same ground. Same sky.
The craft rose silently and disappeared into the stars like it had somewhere else to be.
Which, apparently, it did.
So here I am.
Back on Earth.
Telling the story.
And honestly, after everything I saw out there, I have only one question left.
Is anybody listening?
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Oh, here comes the Bardo bus! Go for it!
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See You At The Top!!!
gorby