“All these years, you keep it hiding, you keep it submerged," the hypnotist says to me, "and then all these feelings come out. What is it that you want to see?”
And suddenly, I began to see something.
“I remember a table now.”
“What kind of table?”
From above and to the side, as if on a banister of some kind, I look down upon this large, circular, cavernous room. Its like a gymnasium. Below me is a table shaped like an inverted "Y", and upon it lays a woman, naked and clearly horrified and confused. Her head is hung back; her mouth, agape. Her legs are spread so that they follow the arch at the end of the table. The creatures are there, doing something I cannot or will not make out between her legs. Watching this, I am utterly horrified and filled with anger.
Quickly as it had come, the vision breaks off. I am now somewhere else. Gray beings look at me real close to my face, almost touching my forehead, their slanted, almond-shaped, liquid-black eyes raping my spinning mind. I suddenly notice I'm on a table positioned upward at a slant. A man is there, a man who appears human save for his eyes, which seem far too large. To me, he seems malicious. He is holding something in his hand attached to some contraption that came down from the ceiling. I am ill with thoughts about what he is about to do. As I see all this in my mind's eye, I tell the hypnotist how I had suspected that they had put something in my eye. How roughly a year ago, well before the memories had started coming back to me, I had woken up one morning to find my eye puffed up to the size of a golf ball and sealed closed, pus oozing out of the tear duct. Not long before, the same thing had happened to my mother, and as had been the case when it happened to her, she insisted that it must have been due to a mosquito bite to the eye during the night. All day, I could not stop looking at my eye in the mirror, and something was particularly bothersome about it. Convinced it was not a bug bite, I pressed my mother to call the doctor. When she finally did, he told her that it sounds as if it may have been to due to "a cut behind my eye." In the end, my mother only offered a shrug when I asked her just how in the hell I could have gotten a cut <i>behind</i> my eye.
“Do they communicate with you?”
“Not all that much,” I tell her. “Only when I look in their eyes. And I won’t. I refuse to, because I know what they can do. I’m not stupid.”
“What can they do?”
“They look inside your head... They search all around.”
The vision of me on the table fades to black, and suddenly I feel as if I'm standing, perhaps back on the banister, and there is this huge creature before me, so tall it is towering over me, leaning down with his face far too close to mine. She asks me what I'm seeing, and I tell her about him, who I call the "bug guy". He looks like a huge praying mantis. As he looks into me, he communicates to me in mental whispers. "This is all in your head," he thinks to me. "You're making this up. You cannot remember everything."
“Why do they want you?” She asks.
I shrug. “They’re fascinated with my legs, I guess.”
“Why is that?”
“Because my joints are all wrong," I tell her, referencing the Leggs-Claves-Perthes I had as a child. "Joints aren’t right. They’re not the way they’re supposed to be.”
There was another period that involved me sobbing, mumbling, speaking about how afraid I was and frustrated that I couldn’t remember anything, and then she relaxed me further.
“Why do they want to be here?”
“We’re in trouble,” I tell her.
“Why? What kind of trouble?”
“Deep trouble. We’ve been very stupid. Done too many stupid things. We’re on the wrong path.”
“Are they trying to help us?”
“They say they are, but they’re going about it the wrong way.”
“What is it they want to do?”
“They want to make little ones," I find myself saying, my thoughts returning to the woman on the table. "Little, little things they keep in jars. They walk around. It’s like they’re teasing me. They know I’m helpless against them.”
And suddenly, I began to see something.
“I remember a table now.”
“What kind of table?”
From above and to the side, as if on a banister of some kind, I look down upon this large, circular, cavernous room. Its like a gymnasium. Below me is a table shaped like an inverted "Y", and upon it lays a woman, naked and clearly horrified and confused. Her head is hung back; her mouth, agape. Her legs are spread so that they follow the arch at the end of the table. The creatures are there, doing something I cannot or will not make out between her legs. Watching this, I am utterly horrified and filled with anger.
Quickly as it had come, the vision breaks off. I am now somewhere else. Gray beings look at me real close to my face, almost touching my forehead, their slanted, almond-shaped, liquid-black eyes raping my spinning mind. I suddenly notice I'm on a table positioned upward at a slant. A man is there, a man who appears human save for his eyes, which seem far too large. To me, he seems malicious. He is holding something in his hand attached to some contraption that came down from the ceiling. I am ill with thoughts about what he is about to do. As I see all this in my mind's eye, I tell the hypnotist how I had suspected that they had put something in my eye. How roughly a year ago, well before the memories had started coming back to me, I had woken up one morning to find my eye puffed up to the size of a golf ball and sealed closed, pus oozing out of the tear duct. Not long before, the same thing had happened to my mother, and as had been the case when it happened to her, she insisted that it must have been due to a mosquito bite to the eye during the night. All day, I could not stop looking at my eye in the mirror, and something was particularly bothersome about it. Convinced it was not a bug bite, I pressed my mother to call the doctor. When she finally did, he told her that it sounds as if it may have been to due to "a cut behind my eye." In the end, my mother only offered a shrug when I asked her just how in the hell I could have gotten a cut <i>behind</i> my eye.
“Do they communicate with you?”
“Not all that much,” I tell her. “Only when I look in their eyes. And I won’t. I refuse to, because I know what they can do. I’m not stupid.”
“What can they do?”
“They look inside your head... They search all around.”
The vision of me on the table fades to black, and suddenly I feel as if I'm standing, perhaps back on the banister, and there is this huge creature before me, so tall it is towering over me, leaning down with his face far too close to mine. She asks me what I'm seeing, and I tell her about him, who I call the "bug guy". He looks like a huge praying mantis. As he looks into me, he communicates to me in mental whispers. "This is all in your head," he thinks to me. "You're making this up. You cannot remember everything."
“Why do they want you?” She asks.
I shrug. “They’re fascinated with my legs, I guess.”
“Why is that?”
“Because my joints are all wrong," I tell her, referencing the Leggs-Claves-Perthes I had as a child. "Joints aren’t right. They’re not the way they’re supposed to be.”
There was another period that involved me sobbing, mumbling, speaking about how afraid I was and frustrated that I couldn’t remember anything, and then she relaxed me further.
“Why do they want to be here?”
“We’re in trouble,” I tell her.
“Why? What kind of trouble?”
“Deep trouble. We’ve been very stupid. Done too many stupid things. We’re on the wrong path.”
“Are they trying to help us?”
“They say they are, but they’re going about it the wrong way.”
“What is it they want to do?”
“They want to make little ones," I find myself saying, my thoughts returning to the woman on the table. "Little, little things they keep in jars. They walk around. It’s like they’re teasing me. They know I’m helpless against them.”
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