I thought, "How odd. They want us to go outside in our pajamas."

I don't remember what took place after going through the window, but I do remember coming back inside, through the same window, feeling energized, and both my brother and I were wearing soaking wet pajamas as if we had been caught in a downpour of rain. The next morning, life went on as usual, with no mention of what took place the night before.

The next memory I have is of being in my own room after bedtime. All the lights were out, even the hall light, but there was just enough light coming from outside to make out a figure standing in front of the mirror on the dressing table. There appeared to be a woman, with long hair, slowly turning around as if trying to see herself in the mirror. "That must be my sister", I thought, so I called out her name.

Nothing happened, the figure didn't move, so I called out my sister's name again, and as I did this, I remembered that my sister didn't have long hair. In a flash, I jumped up on the bed and grabbed the light string. When the light came on, the figure disappeared. Now, you may think this is just a story about a child's imagination playing tricks with the mind, in the dark, but two of my cousins also saw the same figure. None of us talked about it until at least twenty years later, and as a teen, I frequently heard footsteps approaching, and receding from, my bedroom door.

The next memories I have about abductions and alien contact around this time period are, perhaps, not as numerous as some abductees have had, but they were upsetting enough to result in life-long trauma: bizarre dreams, PTSD and dissociation included.

I had just gone to bed. The hall light was turned off. As I lay there, eyes wide open and trying to wind down from the activities of the day, I saw the corner of the closet curtain move. I tried to get my eyes to focus on it so I could see if it was just my imagination or if it was really moving.

It moved again! Out of the depths of this small human's lungs came the cry,

"DAD"!

My father quickly responded, "I'm coming!"

He turned the hall light on, came up the stairs and entered my room. After checking things out, he reassured me there was nothing there. The same scenario took place once more, and this time, my father turned the hall light on, stood at the bottom of the stairs and reassured me there was nothing there. The third time it happened, he yelled from the master bedroom for me to "Be quiet and go to sleep"!

Neither of us knew what was really happening when the curtains moved, but the events that followed may have been an indication.

The hall light was on, due to the previously described episode involving my fathers efforts to 'rescue his daughter' and ultimately give up on the idea, and I was in bed, tossing and turning about in order to get comfortable enough to go to sleep, when my eyes landed on a small, dark figure in the hallway.

"What's that? It's there. I know I saw it.

There it is again, no taller than the doorknob. What is that?

I wish it would stand still long enough for me to tell what it is.
It's just my imagination. I'll close my eyes and it will go away."

I closed my eyes and pulled the covers over my head, stayed motionless for a short while, then slowly pulled the covers off my head and reopened my eyes, but the figure was still there looking through the space between the door and the door casing, peeking at me, watching me. From my previous experiences of yelling for my father, I knew it would be useless to try that again, so I lay perfectly still, hoping that whatever it was that lurked in the hall near my door would not see me, or perhaps think I had disappeared.

As I lay there, I noticed another small, dark figure in the corner of my room where the closet curtain had moved.

"Oh God, it's inside my room! There, by the closet. Scared. I'm scared, and I can't yell for dad. Oh God, now what do I do? It's real.

I'm not imagining this one! It's moving, coming closer to the bed."

As I lay motionless, allowing only my eyes to move, I scanned what I could see of the rest of the room and then looked toward the door. The one that had been observing me was approaching the bed.

"Oh, there's more than one! Go away! You're not real. This is my imagination," I thought to myself, but it was not my imagination. Suddenly, more of the small, unusual figures seemed to be 'coming out of the walls', approaching the bed, in a group.

"I'm sunk. Dead meat. A goner. What do they want?
Are they going to hurt me? Oh! I want to scream for dad!"

Two of the figures came to the right side of the bed, two remained at the foot of the bed and yet another moved to the left side of the bed. I could see them more clearly: little hooded characters with no faces.

"Where are their faces? They have no faces, just a hollow spot under their hoods. I'm tired, sleepy. Maybe this is just a really bad dream, and I'll wake up from it in the morning."

But I didn't go to sleep: I remained in a subdued state of mind.

After the small, hooded figures had stationed themselves around my bed, a slight glowing began to appear in the room, and I saw that the hall light was no longer on. As the glow began slowly expanding, I saw more figures materialize by the window closest to the area where the closet curtain had moved. As they approached my bed, I saw them more clearly: a short, skinny thing with big eyes and a tall human with blonde hair who was wearing some type of sash over his shoulder. There were two or three other figures that appeared with them. However, memory as to what they were fails me at this time.

While my eyes watched the figures approach the bed, I was, for just a moment, shaken out of the subdued condition I had been in and was compelled to jump up and run out of the room, but the overwhelming urge to do so was quickly squelched when I found I couldn't move.

"What is this I'm feeling? I can't move! Oh, oh my God - I can't move!
I'll never get out of here. I have no choice but to let them do whatever
it is they're going to do."

By this time, the hooded figures were securely holding my feet and arms, and the figures that arrived after the hooded ones were standing at my bedside. The skinny one with the big eyes looked squarely at me, then I heard a gentle voice say,

"Don't be afraid. We aren't going to hurt you",

but the small mouth on the skinny figure wasn't moving. As I absorbed the message, I saw the arm of the skinny figure nearing my head.

It held a long, slender device that I can only describe as being similar to what my father used to retrieve tiny vials from a tank of dry ice during his job outside of the farm. I wondered how the figure could hold the device because it only had three fingers and a thumb located too far from them to be of any use.

Then came the 'crunch' - the feeling that something had broken inside my forehead, between my eyes. I blacked out for a moment, and when I came to,
I was out of my body, floating next to the ceiling, watching what was happening below.

It seemed "like forever" before the unusual crowd of 'others' left, and when they did, they filed out slowly toward the window, vanishing as they went.

The next morning, I awoke with a bloody nose and no conscious recollection of what took place the previous night. However, on some level, I must have remembered enough to convince me I needed to be ever vigilant in case it should happen again, so I frequently practiced leaving my body to hover around the ceiling where I hoped I would be unseen. I didn't consider that my body was still there, on the bed. I also remember having to hide in the closet, like my brother did, buried under whatever I could find, in order to escape detection.

Throughout these early years of life, I had been a trusting child, going with the flow of things. This innocence was about to end. I was around six or seven and had been going to Sunday school for only a short period of time when the next event took place.

I remember sitting in one of the rooms designated for use as a classroom, with other kids my age. The teacher had been writing on the chalkboard. She turned and asked the class a question, to which I knew the answer, it pertaining to a specific question about an event in the life of Jesus. I raised my hand and was called on to answer, which I did. After giving my answer, I began to feel as though I was no longer able to stay in the room. I felt nature calling, so asked if I could go to the bathroom, and I was momentarily dismissed. I went downstairs to the bathroom, and after having relieved myself, I went to the sink to wash my hands.

While washing my hands, I looked out the basement window and saw a beautiful, clear blue sky. The next thing I knew, I was coming back through the window from outside, and the teacher was in the bathroom, reaching for my hand and saying my name. This all happened in what felt like about a twenty minute time period. I don't recall where I went or what happened to me when I was gone.

Shortly after this event, the effects of the contacts and abductions, along with outbursts of family strife began to cause depression. I felt as though I were a mutant, an unlovable and crippled child with no place on earth at which I would be safe, so I decided to go live with God, in heaven - after all, God was supposed to love all children no matter what their condition. To my thinking, there was only one way to get there and stay there on a permanent basis: leave the body behind.

A few days had passed since making this decision, when I saw my father driving a tractor on the drive that went through the yard. He was moving at a pretty good clip, in my direction, and I saw an opportunity to finally be rid of my body. I stood at the side of the drive, waiting, until the tractor was close enough to do the job, then quickly jumped out in front of it!

My father, being a good driver, managed to swerve the tractor away. I still remember hearing him yell over the sound of the tractor engine, "What's the matter with you! I could have run over you!"

Those ugly feelings of uselessness came flooding through my body once again - "Shame, shame on you, Kate."