I’ve Been Missing Since August of 2014, This is What’s Happened Since My Last Journaled ‘Experience’
The next three visions are interchangeable. I have not been able to pin a timeline on them.
This one I’m almost sure was a dream.
It began in a dark park. It was cold, but I could hear summertime bugs. I could only see about ten feet out in front of me whichever way I looked. There were lampposts, but they and their light were only visible when I got right up to them. I remember hearing something large rummaging in the dark. It wasn’t running or walking heavy, it was rummaging, and it knew I was there. It could see me walking around, but I couldn’t see it. I remember panicking at some point and running to a bench. I laid down and thought I could play dead, so I closed my eyes and waited. I knew exactly what it was going to do when it walked up to me. I could feel it pressing down on my chest with massive hands. I squinted my eyes just enough so I could see what it was. It had thick arms with white fur that extended into the dark above me. Beyond that, I could see a pair of little glowing eyes. They were orange, and had black pupils that might as well have been the rest of the darkness. I closed my eyes again as it let out an airy growl.
This one might have been a dream.
I was in another room. This one was way too bright. A person (this thing was for sure a person) slid something to me on a table. I picked it up, and said something along the lines of ‘what is this?’ My question wasn’t answered, and I don’t remember what exactly the object looked like. It was box-shaped from what I remember. When I went to set the object down, it stuck to my fingers. When I complained, it vibrated like a trick gum pack you might get at a novelty store. I yelled, as it wouldn’t come off my fingers and the vibration was uncomfortable. The more I yelled, the more it buzzed me. So I stopped yelling. The man, I’m sure it was a man, leaned forward. He was wearing a surgeon’s mask, black suit, and face-fitting sunglasses. The mask was moving up and down, and he was laughing. I said—‘What’s up with you?’ He stopped laughing and reached forward. He had on blue medical gloves that were too small. He pulled the little object off of my fingers, set it back down on the table, and stared at me too long for comfort. Then he started laughing again.
This one wasn’t a ‘dream’ in the sense that the others ‘were’.
Here, I was looking down at a gap between one of the reinforced doors and the concrete floor. There was something wiggling freakishly from underneath it. The movements almost felt playful. It was, as far as I could tell, a set of long, pale fingers. These did not scare me as the others did. These felt different. They disappeared after a second of wiggling, then they reappeared, sliding something under the door. It was a slip of paper, and I reached for it. Just as I got close to catching it, the fingers and the paper slipped back under the door. They reappeared a second later. This time, the paper had writing. I reached for it, and it slipped back in. The next time, I was prepared. I had my hand hovering over the spot where the hand would appear. In the split second before I smacked my hand down, I saw the paper had different writing. The moment my hand touched its hand, I knew the truth without even reading the paper. I laughed a little to myself and let go as it slunk back under. This one was my friend.
I smile, thinking about it now. In all of the uncertainty and emptiness I felt in that state, something, for the first time since Laure, interacted with me; not talked at me, not looked at me, or used me, but interacted with me.
This jumped to another disconnected memory too vague for me to describe in detail. This one was in a dark room, and it felt like a vision test with patterns of lights instead of a letter pyramid. I don’t remember my surroundings or what the patterns were, but I do remember a large machine being pressed against my face—like a vision test.
My next solid memory started in a low-ceiling hallway not dissimilar to the ones I found myself wandering around in towards the beginning of my experience. I had the perspective of standing and watching a conversation unfold; I couldn’t see my body below me. Off in the distance, standing next to a more-or-less ordinary door, were two figures. One was a man, and the other was a very, very short person. The man was in a suit and had round glasses on—this wasn’t the man who was wearing the surgical mask as I remembered before. The short figure was bizarre looking. He, or it, had a large, bald (from what I could tell) head and was wearing black coveralls paired with a matching military cap. He had long, pale fingers and was looking up at the suited man with his hands crossed behind his back. The suited man was expressing something accusatory at him. I felt an intense hatred for the suited man. Every kind of negative energy I could think of was coming off of him in waves, yet his outward appearance was composed. I stood for a while, watching, then decided to walk(?) up to them. They didn’t seem to notice—and odd enough, I didn’t even hear my own footsteps. I might as well have been invisible. When I approached them, the energy got to be overwhelming. This feeling almost drowned out my understanding that the person I was looking at was former Vice President Dick Cheney, and that the shorter figure was not a person at all. I knew this as a fact then, and I know it now. The short being looked at me with eyes that were large and sharp with scrutiny. Cheney didn’t seem to register me until my energy began to bubble over, and I could feel my body(?) emanating heat. I was damn close to them. He turned to me, still talking to the being and said something like—’This is what I’m talking about, we can’t have them floating around like this. They will hear and remember.’
The shorter being stayed quiet.
From this moment, I took away that Cheney was behind most, if not all of this. It was a very strong notion. I hated it.
I retreated back from the conversation and lost consciousness when the short being lifted its hand towards me.
Then, there were people in surgical masks around me. I could feel that a point in the center of my forehead was open. It didn’t hurt, but I could feel pressure, and they were working with needles. Cheney was standing to my right, looking content, but not smiling. I hated that man like hell. I was getting a download to my brain that kept telling me; it’s him. It’s his fault.
I didn’t have enough energy to put up with the surgeons, or him, so I just lolled off.
When I woke up next, something did hurt. My right wrist, lower back, and both of my knees. Nothing from my forehead. I was standing up in the center of a small, dark room lit by an orangey incandescent bulb. This was the first time I registered my age. I’ve always been thin. Here, I was more filled out. Not padded, but healthy. I knew I wasn’t old, but rather older.
I was well groomed. My hair had been shaved, nails clipped, and on my face, I could feel full stubble. I was used to it being patchy.
For once, I wasn’t wearing a windbreaker and jeans, I was in a hospital gown. My skin, once irritated and patchy with sores, looked long-healed.
I was standing there and looking at this ratty door. There was not a handle on the inside, but there was a sliding cover at eye-level. Like you would see in a prison. Just as I’m thinking of this sliding cover, it opens, and I run up to it. There was somebody looking through it. Their eyes were dark and large.
You’re awake.
‘I am.’
I have your stuff.
‘Thank you.’
It didn’t have to, but at this point, the person raised their head and positioned their mouth over the opening.
You’re welcome.
It had a small mouth and sharp teeth. It was one of the teardrop people.
It noticed that I noticed what it was.
Please don’t be scared.
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