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Jeff's Sad Nightmare Story

Occasionally, I have qualms about writing these articles. I once felt really bad, because after an article about some abduction case an elderly woman sent me a long letter explaining that she was the reincarnated soul of an alien that died in the Roswell crash. I asked myself: “Self? Is this what you’ve come to? Picking on old women?” However, by the end of her email, I knew I’d made the right choice: she said she’s worked her whole life as a primary school teacher. And if I don’t think UFOs and space monsters from beyond the moon are real, I certainly don’t think that people who believe they are should be in charge of indoctrinating our young.

For the second time ever, I felt qualms about writing an article today. I was searching for references to winged snakes; there are a handful of cases where space creatures sport patches on their clothing featuring this stylish emblem. I have a lot of time on my hands. Anyway, in doing so, I came across the case of a man named Jeff. It’s a case of horror and sadness, and I came very close to not writing about it for reasons soon to be apparent. Then it occurred to me: by doing so, I’m doing this guy more of a favor than the UFO enthusiasts that take it for granted his tale has any truly supernatural aspects.
The story comes courtesy of Joyce Murphy, proprietor of a website clearinghouse for paranormal stories. Out of the blue, a man named Jeff sent her his tale, which “was very well written and consistent when we received it so only names have been changed.”

It’s 9 pages long, but only a single paragraph. That’s fine: when relating a tale of such emotional impact, one doesn’t have time for proper grammar. The boiled down version of the story (to which there’s a link at the end of this article, scroll down and open it in a new window if you’d like to have a look) is that space aliens murdered a man in front of Jeff’s very eyes when he was young.

One evening, he was sitting in his room listening to the radio when his dogs started freaking out. Looking into the sky, he saw three enormous objects that looked like flying skyscrapers. Startled, he closed the drapes and stepped back, but was then struck by something that totally paralyzed him. Moments later, a man entered his room, running. I imagine him as looking like Desmond from the TV show Lost: Jeff describes him as “…wearing a blue gray jumpsuit and he was about 5'10" to 6 ft tall, had black or dark brown short hair like they give you in the military. He was of medium build, weight of 160 to 180 lbs. but very athletic from the looks of him and he was wearing black lace up combat boots that were bloused.” For reasons that are not entirely clear to me, several pages later he comes to the conclusion that the man was in the Air Force. Anyway, I’ll just call him Desmond II to keep things simple.

Desmond II blurted out “Help me, kid!” and tried to shake Jeff, but found Jeff paralyzed. Looking down the hall, he said “My god, they’re here!” That would be that last thing he ever said.

A beam of intense yellow light flared in through Jeff’s window and illuminated his closet. Momentarily, two creatures who were as tall as Jeff’s ceiling (six and a half feet) stepped out of it. Two more came in through more orthodox means (the door), though one of these was a munchkin at a mere 5’4”. He seemed to be the leader, an alien Napoleon, if you will. He goes on to describe the creatures in a manner more succinct than I’d be able to do:

“The skin was smooth…. They had on gray skin tight suits like Spandex with hoods but the hoods didn't cover the neck. I mean the front, of the neck. I know that doesn't make sense but it covered the back of the neck and the sides but not the front of the neck. I noticed the eyes being like a cat, the pupils were vertical - not round and the eyes were set like our own and not big round eyes like many describe… [the eyes] were real and gray and the pupils dark. He had no real nose to speak of. It was more like a skull but the holes were wider apart and his mouth a slit. I never saw ears but there were bumps under the hood to indicate something was there…. On the short one's chest was an emblem - a chevron if you like of a snake with wings and snakeslit eyes - no legs or arms - just wings. I kid you not. I never saw their feet. - Just the hands which had 4 digits - not 5 like ours own.”

Anyway, the space monsters got right down to business. The one next to the alien Napoleon took out a metal object “like a rifle” and shot Desmond II in the damn face with a beam of yellow light. Naturally, the Desmond II’s face was totally exploded. He fell over dead, the skin on his face burned, bloody, or gone, and his eyes completely white. Jeff, naturally, was grossed out and angry, but what could he do? He was still paralyzed. Besides, I mean, that rifle explodes faces.

Anyway, the aliens all left, except for the Alien Napoleon, who came up and grabbed Jeff by the neck. He said something, but not with his voice: Jeff heard the words in his mind, though he doesn’t remember what they were. Or he couldn’t understand it, it’s not clear. Anyway, Napoleon looked really, really angry, then he grabbed his face-exploded corpse and left. Places to go, and all. The entire time, Jeff’s family was sleeping in the house.

This is the fragment of Jeff’s tale that I originally came across in a compendium of alien abductions from 1982. But there’s more, so much more.

Jeff, naturally, was afraid. He didn’t go to school for a couple of weeks, and he says that he became rather ill, including a rash where the alien touched him. His life proceeded more or less without incident until later, when he was married to his second wife and working occasionally as a security guard for a store where there had been a lot of attempted break ins. Sometimes, he would see a red glow in a nearby field, and got the impression it was them. He and his wife began to feel as though they were constantly being watched; though he got over it, she never did. He developed a strange lump on the inside of his mouth that he speculates (after Murphy mentions it to him in a really strange part of the story) is an alien implant. Once every few months he’ll take a needle and suck several syringes worth of fluid out of it. Ick.

Additionally, he reports having about two weeks of missing time, along with his wife, where they’d wake up in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, and not know how they got there. There’s a weird hop in the original tale here, and it goes on about how in the spring of 1968 he was on a spaceship shaped like a boomerang and was shown how the engine works, as well as a screen that is described in suspiciously similar terms to the viewscreen on Star Trek. But I can’t tell if this is a copying-and-pasting error on the behalf of Murphy, or if 1968 is a typo that means 1988, or what. But the story is sufficiently strange otherwise that it hardly matters.

I would be remiss if, like the UFO enthusiasts, I told you this tale without mentioning some pretty glaring things about it.

The first couple of pages of his tale have little to do with UFOs. Jeff starts out by detailing a fairly ugly life: his mother and his assorted, short-time stepfathers, some of whom beat him; his father, who doesn’t like him and think he’s someone else’s anyway; his parents’ alcoholism; his own problems with alcohol, though he says they weren’t that bad; his ejection form the Marine Corps after being badly injured; the untimely deaths of several friends and relatives; and a buffet of problems with his wives all make appearances in the story. It’s a heart-breaking story, and I hope that if he’s reading this Jeff doesn’t think I’m persecuting him or picking on him for no reason. He’s been through some awfully hard times, and I’m not a psychologist, but after reading his tale, I think it seems evident that living a life full of mind-numbing horror could possibly explain this incident better than spacemen busting a cap in a face in his room.

At the end of Murphy’s posting of this story, she writes “Please keep this man in your thoughts and if you have any information that would help him please call us” I’ve got some information: he’s been through some hard times and needs some help, and someone to talk to. I doubt that’s the kind of information that they want, though: Jeff and the assorted UFO enthusiasts with whom he’s been in contact are hoping someone can identify Desmond II, or why the monsters are here and what they want.

Maybe I’m wrong. Like I said, I’m not a psychologist. I don’t even know all that much about feelings (I’ve always felt that a man should feel only angry or hungry, or some combination thereof. Right now, I’m hungry.) I’m also fairly socially ignorant, and ability to interact with other human beings in any meaningful, deep way is… stunted. But the fact that out of the 9 pages of his letter, about 7 or so are a tell-all about his past misfortunes, and about 1 is a plea for others to please talk to him, while the description of the UFOs and space creatures is pretty minor, makes me wonder if this isn’t a case of a mind that’s been pushed too far by tragedy.

Anyway, if that’s not what it is, what other explanations are there? Well, I think vivid nightmare is a good candidate. I mean, flying skyscrapers appeared over his house, hideous cat-monster-men put the rest of his family (but not him) to sleep, magically walk through his wall, mercilessly gun down a hero figure in front of his eyes, and then stare at him angrily? I don’t know about you, but the basic plot to my nightmares is that unstoppable, unimaginably powerful hideous monsters commit horrible acts while I have no chance of getting outside aid and sit there helpless. They’re more about impotence in the face of villainy than anything else.

No one ever buys this explanation, though. In fact, now that I’ve said that, I’ll probably be lumped in the same category as the “sleep paralysis accounts for all alien abduction tales” folks. Although, I’ve never seen anyone make that claim with the word all in it, but UFO enthusiasts assure me they’re out there.
So wait. What physical evidence do we have? As with so much, a big fat zero. It’s a question of whether or not you’re willing to take the word of an anonymous internet man. And if you are, I’m a deposed king from Nigeria, and boy howdy have I got a deal for you.

Jeff claims there’s physical evidence in the form of the big lump on the inside of his mouth. He also says he’s never going to get it checked, he’ll just keep draining it with a needle by himself. He also makes a strange claim: he says that when he was a boy, a friend’s grandfather, who worked at a natural gas plant, told him a story of sighting a UFO up close once. When the man died, Jeff was allowed to move into the man’s house, where he found scrapbooks with hundreds of up-close photographs of spaceships. Unfortunately, the man’s relatives took them, destroyed them, and now hate Jeff. So, I guess there’s no chance we’ll be seeing any photographic evidence soon.

What else is there? Nothing. A story that raises a large number of questions about the author, who no one has ever met, and of whom we know nothing other than the contents of his emails. Physical evidence that he won’t let anyone see. Photographic evidence that has conveniently vanished. The same old tired UFO formula.

Be that as it may, Jeff, I’m not saying any of this with malice aforethought. Your story is a load, but you’re probably an all right guy. A guy with issues. I urge you to find someone to talk to and work them out. And UFO enthusiasts, when someone flying this many warning flags contacts you, I urge you to urge the same things, rather than just repeat their story, buy into it, and bring them farther from the help they need. Hell, pass the hat and get the fellow a shrink. I’ll throw in a couple of bucks.

Be seeing you.

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