Chapter 1
Who Am I?
Fast-forward — The Future?
Saturday, November 29, 2025
You walked about fifty yards before rifle shots rang out. Horrified, I saw you fall to the ground. I couldn’t understand why those men shot an unarmed woman and were jumping up and down as if they just bagged a deer. My heart pounded as I struggled to climb down and reach the spot where you fell. You seemed dazed and confused about what had happened. Your left leg was injured, your right hand had been shot off and was still twitching on the ground by your feet. The sight of blood doesn’t bother me, but picking up your hand was distressing. I helped you up and asked if I could help you get away.
“Can you walk?”
You looked at me, nodded yes. “Why are you helping me? They might kill you.”
“Because someone has to.”
“I promise to save your life for saving mine, but…”
Even so, a promise made in desperation can be like dreams—fragile, fleeting, and easily forgotten. And yet I couldn’t forget. Dreams and nightmares have haunted me for as long as I can remember. It all began in 1953.
Flashback — Beginning 1953 — The rest of this chapter is true!
At the age of four, a vivid nightmare marked the beginning of a lifelong journey. Hearing a noise, I sat up in bed and saw a short, scary creature with enormous eyes lurking in the hallway’s darkness. It glared and started coming toward me. I called for Mom, but nothing came out of my mouth, so I screamed. Mom and Dad rushed to my bed and told me I was just having a bad dream.
Dreams can shape us in ways we barely understand. We dismiss them as fantasies, the mind’s way of playing tricks. What if they’re something more? This memory lingered throughout my life, leading to a cascade of dreams and peculiar experiences. Strange, repeated dreams with slight modifications of people and places were replaced by déjà vu dreams in 1999. After those dreams, I was haunted by a vision of brightly colored houses perched on a hill
Later, my friend Cindy told me about the SETI@home program, which spawned an idea for a fantasy vacation to visit the Arecibo Observatory. During a daydreaming episode, I hatched a plan to visit the SETI scientists in Puerto Rico and dreamed of joining the search for extraterrestrials. With little money and a Thanksgiving holiday looming, I booked myself a nonrefundable trip to Puerto Rico while playing with a travel app on my computer. It seemed impossible, but I contacted Jill Tarter and requested a tour of the SETI in November 1999. Dr. Tarter put me in touch with the project director, Dr. Peter Backus, resulting in a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
After my tour, I drove toward Mayaguez. As I exited the mountains, I was distracted by the sight of brightly colored houses sitting on a hill. I couldn’t shake the image from my mind, even after I chalked it up to a coincidence. But then a horse came out of nowhere and was running alongside my car before he took off in another direction. Those were the same houses in my dream. Now, completely rattled, I rushed towards Cabo Rojo, a town known for UFO sightings. During this part of my trip, I asked God if my guardian angel was nearby. I found my way to a small local motel near the beach feeling anxious and alone. I was near tears—making notes in my journal in the attached restaurant when the owner came to my table and put me at ease. His name was Angel. After staying overnight, I drove to Fajardo and the U.S. Naval Base in search of UFOs, which brought more perplexing experiences, highlighting the blurred lines between reality and fantasy. A hike to the top of El Yunque, where rumors of strange things happening had become folklore, yielded no concrete evidence, just more peculiar experiences.
…
After my trip to Puerto Rico, I had severe back problems. In the months prior to surgery, I immersed myself in the study of alien abductions. As I emerged from the anesthesia, I didn’t remember the surgery, who I was, or know if I was even alive. I started touching things, saying, “That’s real.” I could not see clearly and touched someone next to me, saying, “Oh shit, you’re real, too.”
That’s when the nurse yelled at my brother and said, “What’s wrong with him? He keeps touching things and saying they are real.”
As I snapped back into reality, I apologized to the nurse. Now, twenty-five years later, I’m left pondering the delicate balance between reality and dreams, as well as science and science fiction. My search for identity, intertwined with extraterrestrial fascination, continues to foster vivid dreams and peculiar experiences.1-2.
