It may smack of paranoia to admit to the feeling of being watched, but it's a common sensation with nearly all close encounter experiencers (CEEs) and alien abductees.
Not too many years ago when I worked second shift, I'd developed the pleasurable habit of musing alone, under canopy of stars and darkest night, in the shadowy depths of a large back yard, while my day-scheduled family was already in the throes of deepest slumber. And so I'd recline back in my lounger, amid the silence and shadows, with only a whisper of summer breeze for my companion.
Or so I initially thought.
It was wonderful to just sit there, and allow both body and mind to rejuvenate and recuperate from the after affects of another day's battle for bread. How I treasured the time to myself. And gazing up at the star-spattered heavens, I would think and wonder, always wondering about so many things. Especially my place in the overwhelming majesty of the visible universe.
What I had not overly considered was my place in the equally majestic invisible universe.
Maybe it was the solitude with self and lateness of the hour; maybe my instinctive awareness had been stimulated by my interest in the psyche. But as the nights passed, little by little I became alerted to the sense of a 'presence', a visitor who stood full in the shadows and yet my eyes could not see him. I could only feel, in some intangible fashion, that I was not nearly as alone as I'd thought myself to be.
Had I caught the attention of a Watcher? Or did this sense of presence have anything to do with the night when three small gray aliens had stood impassively at the foot of my bed, where space did not exist to allow their occupation? I remember screaming "No, No, No!" when I spied them waiting there, although the next day I could find no logical reason for my hysterical outburst and dismissed it as a rather odd dream.
Inasmuch as this was a very busy, very hectic period in my life and my attention was, by and large, focused on the objective physical world and its demands of me, nonetheless - as time went on, I became quite sensitive to the feeling of 'another', often in a sudden manner that was mysteriously accompanied by an inexplicable wave of tingling energy that on occasion was very intense, so much so that I might be left temporarily fatigued by the onslaught of these vibrations, or whatever they actually were.
Did these onslaughts and sensations of presence keep me from my midnight rest and relaxation? Did I retreat to the imagined safety of buildings and bright lights? Or did I develop an obsession for ghosts, gray aliens and energetic entities? Maybe I latched onto a belief system to explain the inexplicable?
In answer to the above, let me put it like this: I paid my dues. And as today finds me ever the more curious, and increasingly resistant to dogma, superstition and all the rest, I consider my experiences (such as they may be) to have left me the better for the undertaking.
As as there is so d**n much to learn, and the universe abounds with ghosts, gremlins and grays, and watchers all about, I cannot help but wonder the whys and wherefores? And then I wonder about those things completely beyond man's ken. What exists under God of which we have not the slightest hint? After self and other, beyond wave and particle or any other duality or probability which man might conceive, I am reminded of the words of Shakespeare who wrote as Hamlet stating -
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
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