The Other Side of the Story

 So far I've talked about aliens/ETs, the ones I call my people. Wrapped up in the UFO phenomenon is paranormal activity. Are they related? I can only speak for my life. In that respect, they sure are.

Paranormal can't be explained by conventional means and that means it can't be explained by acceptable means. It's well past time to enlarge what acceptable means can mean.

But that's an argument for later and for better qualified folk to answer. All I've got right now is me and so that's all I can talk about. 

Here's some of my other stuff.

There was this one day in the eighties. I'm in my early 20s living in a high-rise apartment. I've got a job, search clerk in a government office. This is where liens and chattels are registered as well as limited companies. It's boring, but it's work. I'm really a journalist, you see, but the one reporting job I had I hated. It was in the buckle town of the province Bible belt. I lasted less than four months. It didn't help that I didn't have a driver's license.

It made for a dull life. I paid my bills, read, dreamt of being a writer and often wondered what to do with my life. Usual 20s stuff, but with a feeling of inertia.

Then one day in the shower I had this feeling. It came from nowhere. I hadn't been thinking of my future and probably not thinking much more than why did the three step hair shampoo I used had bottles for steps one and three but a small squeeze tube for step two.

The feeling washed over me like the shower was doing, only this feeling came from inside: Everything was going to be all right in my thirties. And I smiled inside. I wasn't a smiler then. I barely knew how to do it, but my mind grinned ear to ear.

The feeling didn't last very long, but the memory never left me. It didn't stay topmost in my mind, but I'd think of it from time to time. But at no point did I ever sit down to figure out how that was going to happen.

Instead I went to work until one day I went travelling with a new friend to Europe. Then I came home after a few months and decided to get back to journalism. I sent out resume after resume to every newpaper in the province I could find and wound up in the south end of the centre. I covered just about everything but sports and loved it. Oh, and I had my driver's license by this time. A few things happened here. In one, on the way back from the interview for that job one sunny Saturday in July as the canola bloomed and waved hot gold against the deep blue sky I saw a unicorn.

I can't prove it, but I know it happened. I was driving up the highway on the way back and out the corner of my eye a large white horse in a field stood out. Or rather, its single dynamic horn jutting skyward caught my eye. My parents were with me. I'd never driven on the big freeway before and only had my license a few months. I wanted the company and they wanted the scenic drive. It all worked out.

Anyway, I didn't mention the unicorn. I kind of regret that. My parents were pretty cool that way. Mom was a bit on the psychic side and read Fate Magazine. Dad always wanted to see aliens and go for a ride. In retrospect, that should have been an indicator.

The there was court. I loved covering Provincial Court.. One learns a great deal and it's passive newsgathering at its best. Anyone, one day a new Crown Prosecutor showed up to handle the day's files. She looked 32. I don't know where I got that, but it struck me as probably her age. She seemed to have it all together. I have no idea if she did or didn't, but she handled herself in the courtroom and certainly gave the appearance of having it together.

So I decided that 32 was going to be the best age for me, and then I remembered again about how things were going got be okay in my thirties.

I worked there 33 months and took another trip to Europe. That's for later. For this, I took the trip, came home to my parent's house,  read the Bible cover to cover, and then decided to get another reporting job.

That one took me to Ft. St.John B.C.

I spent six months there at a daily newspaper. That was fine, but I didn't feel right there. It wasn't for me.

Quit that mess after six months, hung around at my parents house and then realized I'd better get another job. That's how I ended up in the job I stayed at and the town I live in and found the man I married.

By the time I was 32 I was living with my going to be someday husband, had a job I liked in a town I liked and everything felt pretty good.

One night I had one of those dreams. You know, the kind that really aren't dreams at all but you don't quite know the right word so you go with dream and hope for the best.

I was alone, fiancé was away working, it was during the dead hours of the night when I visited me. The me of the 80s high-rise apartment hesitated as she walked into the bedroom. I sat up in bed and made myself as open to younger me as I could. Young me was so shy, withdrawn, hesitant. Then me remembered those feelings so well.

We talked. I have forgotten about what. I remember the red pants and red and white striped shirt younger me wore to the visit. Younger me even had makeup on.

Then me made some comforting reassuring noises to younger me and said everything would be all right as the visit ended. Then me stretched out her arms for a hug that younger me was reluctant to accept. I wasn't a hugger then. I wanted to be, but I didn't know how to do it. Then me understood and hugged younger me while younger me accepted it but did not respond, her arms lifeless at her side.

She left, and then me fell back to sleep immediately, knowing after all these years I'd seen the other side of the story.