Watercolor by Mala Rama based on a sketch by Pat Jackson. â—‹ Mala Rama
I never had any interest in extraterrestrials or UFOs. I figured as vast as our universe is the mathematical odds of ours being alone in it had to be astronomical...but that's as far as my thoughts on the subject went.
Sure, there were those couple of weird things in my head as a little kid but don't all little kids have weird things in their heads?
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I remember as a four year old sitting in my backyard at night, staring up at the stars and pleading "Please don't leave me here! This isn't my home! PLEASE COME BACK AND GET ME!"
I had no idea who I was pleading with or why I thought earth wasn't my home and why I so desperately wanted to leave.
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Then there was this weird "something" I had in my head, playing out like a looping video or movie...
I couldn't make it go away. Out of the blue it would just pop into my head and play over again.
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I was someplace that wasn't earth. A teacher I loved very much and I were walking from a huge white marble building toward what I could only call a town square. At the edge of this town square sat a raised platform.
Both my teacher and I were wearing long, white hooded robes of the type a monk might wear.
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I was feeling very sad at having to leave this teacher I loved so much behind. I had no idea where I was going apart from on a mission to help many souls in serious trouble and that I'd be gone a very long time. I could feel my teacher's sadness at my leaving as well.
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​As we walked, I remember very distinctly looking up at the night sky that surrounded us - a deep midnight blue full of a billion twinkling stars - and thinking to myself Take a good look at this sky and remember it because it's going to be a long time before you see it again.
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Others in the same white hooded robes my teacher and I were wearing began joining us on their walk toward the platform. I could feel their sadness at leaving as well. Those of us who were leaving stepped up onto the platform. One minute we were on the platform, the next we'd arrived at our destination.
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But along the way, many others joined us. They just materialized among us. Some were human-looking like ourselves, others very much non human. We all spoke different languages but we were all united in our mission regardless. I imagine we looked rather like the cantina scene in the movie, Star Wars.
When we'd arrived at our destination, the leader of our group told us we were in a
(quote) "holding area waiting to be born". I was very confused by this. I already existed. Why would I be waiting to be born?
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This same leader then told us "Helper ships are standing by to help you with your mission."
At four years old I couldn't have told you what an ET or UFO was much less anything about helper ships.
Eventually the amount of contact I had with over a dozen ET races captured the attention of authorities in the fields of alien abduction, Milab abductions, UFOlogy, military intelligence, agents of the alphabet soup agencies. This panel would spend two years dissecting every aspect of my experiences to determine whether or not I was being truthful and my ET experiences legitimate. They unanimously concluded I was being truthful and my ET experiences were very much legitimate. They would tell me that "something" in my head was an actual memory of my coming to earth. Over the next few years I'd proof on several fronts that this was indeed the case.
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It was as an adult at the Probe Intl. Conference where John Lenard Walson would show his photos and videos of those helper ships in orbit around earth.
You could hear the collective gasp of the audience as the enormous size of these ships dawned on them.
There they were, no denying it - the helper ships I'd been told about as a four year old in the "holding area waiting to be born".
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I'd eventually discover I'd had a CIA agent attached to me for seven years. He'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer and confessed to me he was CIA and told me "The CIA knows you're an Angelic from off planet. The CIA is shi**scared of you."
This would be confirmed by a military Colonel during a later interrogation at gunpoint and finally, by my ET contacts as well. Well now...what to do with THIS tidbit of information?
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Nothing as it turned out. Where I came from is irrelevant, I'm no more "special" or "different" than anyone else just because I came here from elsewhere. I put my pants on one leg at a time like everyone else.
Besides, everyone here is a mix of the DNA of 22 different ET races, so we all came from the stars.
