As the intensity of the experience built, Anne became uneasy with her role. "Things were going on and I wanted to know what was going on!" Her tone became forceful, almost angry.
When asked why she didn't simply go and see, she repeated that she wasn't supposed to.
Supporting this came the first of a number of what she feels are references to a female authority: "It was like your mother said to you, 'You have to stay here.'"
Anne's hypnosis strongly suggested that I'm taken all the time. And mine as well implied more than the two recent occasions. When she was being hypnotized Anne had no idea at all that I remembered more than two occasions when something. strange happened. So why did she say "friend," as if a familiar individual were present, and why did she assert that I go "all the time"?
When Dr. Naiman and Budd Hopkins moved to the events of December 26, there was a flavor of what it must be like living with all these strange secrets when she made reference to my talking about the crystal in the sky. I remember the image clearly, and I remember being nonplussed when I spoke of it, because even at the time it seemed like a sort of falsehood — something I needed to say in order to put some deep uneasiness to rest.
She said frankly that she did not consider me a "down-to-earth guy." I'm glad of that; after all that appears to have been happening, she would have to be incredibly imperceptive to think that I was down to earth. Dr. Naiman, quite naturally, asked her if she thought I should go to a psychiatrist. Her reply was interesting: "No. Because he — I think he can deal with these problems."
What? I'm seeing things, claiming to fly around rooms, and my practical, no-nonsense wife doesn't think I should see a psychiatrist? Perhaps she knew that there would be no point, because on the level she would not directly address, she was aware that these are the side effects of real experience.
I will recount briefly the incident of "flying around the room." In March or April 1985 I was lying in bed in the country house, reading a book, when I suddenly had the feeling that somebody was in the room. I was confused, because the room seemed empty. It seemed almost as if there were somebody here who was able to remain just at the corner of my eye.
The next thing I knew, I floated right out of the bed. I did not tell Anne that I saw a swirling, dizzying jumble of trees, house, and moon right after that. It just seemed too odd, so I contented myself with saying that I had seemed to float around the room. Flying dreams are not unusual, but dreams that vivid that take place when you are reading, not apparently asleep, are awfully hard to accept, which was why I mentioned it to her. I needed to talk about it. And there she was, ready to play her assigned role. Instead of asking if I thought A like to see a doctor, she just laughed and continued to act as if everything were totally normal, which was enormously reassuring, and I soon forgot the incident.
Anne's regression became a little confused at this point, because Budd Hopkins made the suggestion, "Back to that night," without specifying which night.
She thinks she then confused the nights. "It was like a party. There are lots of thins going on here now." When — October 4 or December 26? She does not remember, although she states that Jacques and Annie weren't invited, so that may mean the twenty-sixth, when they weren't there.
Yet again there was reference to the mysterious female authority figure: "It's like your mother says. 'No, you can't go.'"
Finally she volunteered that she's often felt that there are things "going on" with me that she wasn't "supposed" to know. She then revealed a definite role: "I'm supposed to kind of help him afterwards to deal with it. That's my role. But I can't stop them. you know. He just has to."
She was then specifically asked if I have hallucinations. Her reply was that I do not have hallucinations, but "they come to him because of his head."
She then related her perceptions of the "little white thing" that invaded our apartment in the Village. What it was we will probably never know, and I cannot even guess its purpose.
On listening, to the tape of her hypnosis, Anne felt that something seemed to be missing, and found it odd that she had remembered so little about the crucial periods of time-or so she thought. It appears, on careful analysis, that she remembered a great deal.
There was another reference to "the voice of a woman." She also admits that it was not Annie Gottlieb's voice, although not by saying so directly. "It was deeper. [Annie] has kind of a highish voice."
There is another possible explanation for Anne's testimony. It could be an expression of faith for a man she deeply loves and de sires to protect even from the toils of madness by a subtle act of confirmation, really a hidden communion, an indirect sharing — of an experience she did not have enough information about to confirm in convincing detail.
One night in April she talked in her sleep. I had thought to call this book Body Terror because of the extreme physical sensation of fear I had felt on December 26. Suddenly she said in a strange basso profundo voice: "The book must not frighten people. You should call it Communion, because that's what it's about." I looked over at her intending to say why I thought my title was better, and saw that she was totally asleep. Then I realized where I have heard that voice before.
I went to my wife and looked down at her sleeping form, my mind full of question and wonder.
Our Son
We have been careful to preserve our child from the faintest suggestion that he might be dealing with something outside of normal experience. We have told him that he has had some scary dreams. Oddly enough, he seems to take this notion to be a sort of adult fantasy. His own descriptions of what he remembers are completely straightforward, and he doesn't characterize them as scary.
While he is more than willing to call them dreams if we want him to, he seems equally comfortable with the idea that they are memories. This exactly parallels my own perception: The material has the taste of real memory, and yet it is so strange that it also seems like a dream.
I have asked my son to describe any strange dreams he recalls. He has never been hypnotized and he won't be until he can decide for himself if he wishes to do it. No matter what the source, this material can be very disturbing indeed under hypnosis and it is certainly not the business of a parent to assault a child's mind by such experimentation.
Here are some of my son's dreams, in his own words.
"Well, I was dreaming that I was on a boat with Ezra [a friend of his] and someone was attacking and we were about to dive off and I was in the middle of the air when I switched to this dream where I was in the hospital in the future where they were trying to cure some kind of disease. I'm not sure what it was. And I was taken out of my bed and onto a cot and out on the porch."
"Who took you out of your bed and onto the cot?"
"Some kind of doctor."
"What did he look like?"
"Oh, he was a very short and fat man with glasses that came out pointed upward like that. [Gestures as if eyes have a pronounced slant.] And he always has a big fake smile on him. [Smiles from ear to ear with his mouth closed.] He kind of kept it there except when he was asleep."
"How did you know he was asleep?"
"Well, he had — well, that's because he worked in the night and slept in the day "
"What did his eyes look like?"
"He was wearing regular glasses. His eyes were a kind of greenish-blue color. Dark. The only two faces he had was this. [Again demonstrates smile.] And then a small one when he was sleeping. [Makes an O.]"