Chapter 06: Extraterrestrials are Real, and I Might Be One of Them

ARCTURIAN DREAM REVISITED

I found myself standing and looking out of a gigantic trapezoidal window in what appeared to be a floating space station of some sort. The bottom of the window was wider than the top by about two or three extra feet. T

he area behind me was quite large, and I knew that there were a large number of people there, with a table in the middle of the room and another, larger window on the opposite wall. All the walls were composed of a soft, tan colored material.

It appeared that two or more people were standing with me, but I could hardly think about that at all. The sights out of the window were just far too fantastic to believe.

The color of sky out of the window was a very pale blue, smeared with a gauzy veil of white clouds. I could also see what appeared to be the outside of the ship I was traveling on off to the far right.

As I continued to watch in the window, several craft flew by. Their structure was just about the most awesome thing I had ever seen. They traveled in three equal-sized cube-like pieces that rotated at their centers in a vertical plane.

The three parts would travel at exactly the same speed, keeping the same close distance from each other.

The vertical rotation of each piece would bring the three of them into a full, simultaneous conjunction at a slow and deliberate speed.

They literally would assemble into one seamless craft as they joined together in flight, like a giant three-piece jigsaw puzzle! In order to accomplish this, the front and rear pieces rotated counter-clockwise, while the inner piece rotated clockwise. The edges where they joined together were very straight.

The shape of the assembled craft was similar to that of a silver-colored van with no wheels, slightly more cylindrical and rounded off, with the same edges on the top and bottom. But it did have a visible interior through a windshield, like you would have seen on a regular van. It was highly bizarre.

I saw the first craft snap together in this fashion and could hardly believe my own eyes as it traveled from right to left.

Then, just as spontaneously, another craft appeared traveling left to right, and assembled itself together in exactly the same fashion and at exactly the same speed.

A moment later, another craft came from the right, crisscrossing the flight path of the one from the left. Each craft rotated at exactly the same rate, and once they assembled into one piece, they would whizz off at a much faster speed.

As I continued to watch, different ships emerged, ships that did not rotate at their centers and dwarfed the size of the original “vans.” Each ship seemed to be more fantastic in design and beauty than the one before it.

I could hardly believe my own eyes, and was overcome with emotions that could only be described as almost religious ecstasy. The ships finally became so colossal in size that they completely dwarfed the entire view of the sky through the window; up until then, no ship even came close to doing this.

The massiveness of this sight was so incredible that I felt myself slipping away; I could not maintain my OBE state any longer, and thundered back into my physical body.

I awoke sorely wanting to return there yet again, wherever “there” was. It couldn’t really be anything but my imagination, I thought to myself. But what a hell of a good imagination I had!

That winter, my high school friend Jude and I were able to expand our collective music-making endeavors considerably, by gaining access to high-quality keyboards and studio equipment that had been bought by a local friend’s mother after she received an inheritance.

We had already done some very interesting music in the past, but now we had the ability to create dazzling, hypnotic soundscapes with the same type of equipment used by the pros for making movie soundtracks.

One of the sounds in the keyboard — a Korg O1/W — was called “Alien Landing,” and it certainly produced sounds that lived up to its name. And so, there we were. The room was pitch black, incense was burning, it was late at night and we were both in a deep trance state.

The lyrics emerged spontaneously, Jude improvising the voice of the “extraterrestrial,” with I as myself. A condensed version of the lyrics is as follows.

“David.”

“Look! Up in the sky… Oh my… Oh my God!”

“David.”

‘What the hell is that thing?”

“DAY – VAAD!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING!”

“DAY – VAAD!”

[Using comical voices, I humorously improvised the sounds of other people witnessing the event:]

[Male voice:] It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

[Female voice:] Yeah, me neither!

“David. David. David.”

“DAY – VAAD!…”

“David.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“Soon you will.”

[Acting as one of the extraterrestrials, I sang a few lines in a haunting, dissonant, high – pitched voice.]

“Soon you will understand… You will understaaand…”

[Jude then returns as the ceaselessly questioning extraterrestrial voice:]

“David… David… David…”

 [Nervously:] “I can hear you.”

“David… David… David…”

[Extremely Nervous:] “I can hear you!”

[All-out screaming:] “DAY – VAAD!”

“Stop! Stay away!”

“DAY – VAAAD!”

[The sound effects / music suddenly becomes much calmer, less screeching and insistent, and the whole mood changes. My voice takes on a very confident, deliberate, deep tone.]

“You have a message for me?”

“We are your masters… masters… masters… masters…”

[And then, quite spontaneously, I say:]

“Masters of the forgotten planet Hain, from the Andromeda Galaxy… Coming out of space to Earth… To see us… to understand… rectify… And to judge.”

Afterwards, both of us thought that the “song” was quite strange. Once again, the theme I used seemed to emerge from the idea of the Earth as an Experiment.

I borrowed the idea of the “master planet” Hain from a book by James Tiptree, Jr. that I had read in my science fiction class, called Brightness Falls From the Air.

The return of the Experimenters, or the “Masters,” was the finalization of the Experiment. They had come here to observe those on Earth as we exist now, to understand our situations and dilemmas, to change and rectify those situations, and to then judge what the course of evolution should be thereafter.

Far from implying that the Experimenters were being judgmental, I was essentially saying that they would make the final decisions as to the future course of human evolution.

Even more interesting, I had now subconsciously linked the modern UFO phenomenon directly to these Experimenters, or “Masters.” This all emerged with complete spontaneity, bearing all the hallmarks of “channeled” information, as I would later realize.

At the time, the living experience of being in that room with the alien sounds booming off the attic walls all around me had put me into a profoundly altered state.

As is the case with any great improvisational music, neither one of us knew what it was going to be when we started it.

I remembered feeling genuinely scared and puzzled as to what to do while Jude adopted the demanding voice of the “extraterrestrial.”

And the “answer” seemed to imply that these forces were somehow the masterminds of my whole plan of personal spiritual evolution, the ones giving me the dreams and the now-constant visions of “11:11,” “2:22,” “3:33” and other repeated numbers on the clocks.

But no, I thought. That is simply not possible. There are no extraterrestrials, no Experimenters, no Masters, no UFO’s. Even if they were real, there was no way to prove it, and I had never seen any myself.

There was no point in getting caught up in these idle fantasies. All these things were very interesting, but they didn’t make any sense and weren’t practical. The ESP I had discovered as a boy was one thing, but this massive outside presence was something totally different.

 

BREAKTHROUGH

One typical afternoon in March, six months after I quit my addiction, my whole life was about to change. By this point, my recovery was in full swing, and to my own delight, my short-term memory had returned.

I was no longer leaving my wallet and keys in the room and locking myself out, no longer walking into classes and not even realizing that I had a test. I was fully academic, more motivated and happy to be alive.

A friend of mine, whom we shall also call Ray, drove down to visit me at college. It was an unannounced visit, and Ray was lucky to have caught me while I was home. Ray had a very intense look in his eyes, and I asked him what was going on.

“Are you sitting down?” Ray asked.

“Do I look like I’m sitting down, Ray?”

“You’d better sit down.”

“What? What the hell is going on?”

“Sit down!” Ray answered.

I obediently did just that, absentmindedly plopping back into my chair while staring at Ray with a puzzled expression on my face.

“I had to come down here in person because we couldn’t talk on the phone,” Ray said.

“Couldn’t talk about what?” I frowned.

“Well, there’s no easy way to say it, so I guess I’ll just have to start somewhere. Before I drove here, I had a two-hour conversation with my physics professor, who used to work for NASA through until the mid-70’s.”

“You come all this way and make me sit down to give me a physics lecture?”

“Not exactly. I’m really not sure how to break it to you.”

“Break what?”

I was suddenly breathing fast, my heart pounding against my ribcage like an angry fist. Something about Ray’s eyes told me that my wildest suspicions were true; I DID know what Ray was about to tell me. (“We are your masters…”)

Ray’s eyes were intense, mesmerized and yet distant as he began speaking, as though from a deep haze. He looked me straight in the eye the entire time with an unflinching gaze.

“Aliens are real, Dave. They crashed their ships and the government got the technology. We most likely have working prototypes of their craft right now, as well as a bunch of technologies that we got from them, including fiber optics, lasers, computer chips and Teflon.”

Something about Ray’s immediate delivery so soon after his arrival convinced me that this was no lie. The Experimenters / Masters / Paladorians were real.

Like a trap door, the floor dropped out from under me, and I was very glad I was now in the chair.

I felt all the blood leaving my head, my skin turning pale; it was as though my heart had stopped beating.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead and cheeks. I made one last stab at holding onto my sanity.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you are bullshitting me.”

“This is no bullshit, man. This is the real thing. The professor says this was common knowledge in the higher echelons of NASA back then.”

“Jesus Good God Christ,” I replied. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper, and I reminded myself to close it.

The most striking aspect of Ray’s information was his account of the ships’ method of propulsion. Apparently, the professor had said that the ships would shoot out a pulse of radiation traveling at three-quarters the speed of light, and then another pulse going the full speed of light a trillionth of a second later.

The two pulses were aimed so that they would perfectly crash into each other. Since radiation can create resistance to itself, the faster pulse would repel and bounce off of the slower pulse like a billiard ball.

This would cause the light-speed radiation pulse to come slamming back into the side of the perfectly disc-shaped ship and drive it forward in any given direction.

This action created a sort of “virtual laser beam” outside of the ship, with trillions of these collisions of radiation pulses per second. Through this method, the ship could approach light speed very, very quickly, and also navigate with great accuracy.

Ray went on from there to describe even more information in such detail that there was no possibility of this being anything but the truth.

My head threatened to explode as the realities of antigravity propulsion, light speed and hyperdimensional travel were all explained to me in careful scientific language. I also learned that “within twenty years, the technology that will emerge into the public arena will be beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.”

[Note: Information that was similar in many ways to this was disclosed to the public a few years later, in Col. Phillip Corso’s book, “The Day After Roswell.” I had heard the story in even greater detail long before the book came out in print, and have dated journal writings to prove it.]

That was in 1993. And indeed, over the next few years many major steps would be taken in this stupendous high-tech direction. The clunky IBM compatibles would soon metamorphose into the Internet-capable monsters that are now taking the world by storm, in some cases becoming more powerful than the old refrigerator-sized “supercomputers” of just ten years earlier.

In the flicker of an eye, the industry unfurled up to 99 percent accurate speech recognition software, amazingly realistic three-dimensional games and millions and millions of transistors etched onto a single chip for speeds thought unheard of in the old days of 18 to 33 megahertz processors.

The implications of all this were quite shattering to me, because it was now quite clear that everything about our modern computer age, and our technology in general, would simply never have gone anywhere near as far as it did without the outside support of extraterrestrial intelligence.

Computers were reverse-engineered alien technology! In short, the Masters were generous in their gifts to the Experiment of modern humanity, insuring that we would have all the tools in place to come to our own development in time for the prophesied changes that were still ahead.

More and more, I began to realize, consciously and subconsciously, exactly how accurate my 1992 “Earth Experiment” article really had been. Nothing could have prepared me for that reality except for the singular fact that I knew that it was The Truth.

Now I was becoming just like the “Crazy Harry” character in my first story, feeling like I was walking between two worlds at once.

I spent the better part of two weeks after Ray’s disclosure unable to think, sleep, work or do any activity without constantly reprogramming my entire mind to accommodate this new information. What it created was a burning passion within me to find out as much about the UFO phenomenon as possible.

When this “trigger event” first happened, I truly had no idea at the time how far all of this was really going to go, or the incredible life that I would eventually lead as “The Next Edgar Cayce.”

 

CONFIRMATION

I was so overwhelmed with the new information that I literally devoted almost every spare moment of my free time to buying and reading every book I could find on the subject of extraterrestrials – the Experimenters.

It was an intense, relentless pursuit for knowledge that I seemed to have no control over. It continued unabated after my graduation from college, as the harsh reality of the “real world” and the need to have a “real job” finally hit home.

We will fill in the details surrounding this transition a bit later. For now, we fast-forward to a year after my college graduation, where my interest had become physical enough that I booked a hotel room and drove to Connecticut to attend a massive seminar on the UFO phenomenon.

There I was. “Triggered” by Ray’s disclosure in 1993, and with now over three years and 200 UFO / metaphysics books under my belt, I finally met a man at the UFO conference who identified himself as a defense contractor for the United States Government.

The man was probably in his early ’60’s, wearing a light brown suit with a white shirt and red and gray striped tie. He had the stereotypical horn-rimmed librarian glasses that dangled precipitously at the edge of his nose, with a band that went around the back of his neck to insure they wouldn’t be lost.

His roundish face and white hair reminded me of a pleasant sociology professor that I had studied with in college and had become good friends with.

For some reason, I was not put off or frightened of the man at all. Both of us were sitting out on a lecture that was obviously ridiculous, as the speaker paraded a circus of illustrations of different “races” of extraterrestrials.

Many of the drawings were so ridiculous and uncorroborated in other literature that there was no point in staying there to listen. It was just some fluff for the public to space out the really incredible speakers.

Others were sitting around the break room as well, sipping coffee and talking in hushed voices. There were a few others at the table that the man and I were sitting at, and they did not appear to be involved in the discussion at all.

I had just gotten to the best part of Ray’s story, where he talks about the various technologies that were derived from the crashed vehicles. For no apparent reason, the man suddenly burst out laughing, slightly moving up and down as he chortled away.

Naively, I had no idea who I was really speaking to, or how much the man really knew, up until this moment.

“Stop it, just stop right there,” the man interrupted, shaking his head.

“What’s so funny?” I asked the man.

“Let me guess. Lasers, infared vision, fiber optics and computer chips, right?”

 I was almost too dumbfounded to speak. I managed to pick my jaw up off the table and uttered a weak response:

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, I’ll be god-damned,” the man said. “Your NASA guy sure gave your buddy some damn good information.”

I could hardly believe my eyes as I stared at the man. “How do you know that?” I asked.

“Well, you see, I do defense contracting for a variety of companies, including ____ and ____,” the man said.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know about ____,” I responded. “That’s not a real company at all. It’s a dummy company that is run by the Government, and you pay yourselves to do your own work.” I knew them all too well from my extensive UFO research, especially the books of Timothy Good.

“As a matter of fact, ____ is another company that does the same thing,” I said.

“Yep, yep, that’s one too,” the man said. “How did you know that?”

“Well, sir, I read a lot of books. I would think that a lot of people here know about it.”

“Not really,” the man said. “No one else batted an eye when I said those names.”

“Oh,” I responded, pausing to think for a moment. “Well, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just looking around, seeing if anyone here really knows anything,” the man responded.

A smile illuminated his jolly, college-professor face with the shock of wavy gray hair on the top. “Now what was your name again?” the man said, leaning in and studying my nametag through the thin glasses on the end of his nose.

“Uh, David Wilcock,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat like a child, at age 23.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, David,” he said, laughing. “There’s a hell of a lot more to know than what your NASA guy told you. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m sure you’d be very interested in what is really going on.” The man studied me as though he were considering taking on a new apprentice.

My heart soared. This was it! My big chance! “Like what? There’s more?”

“Well, I can’t talk about it here,” he said, quickly looking around the room. “Maybe we’ll have lunch a little later and I’ll tell you.”

[“Better act fast,” Grandfather said to Lucia. She began telepathically influencing the closest person in sight to interrupt our conversation in whatever means possible.

I had inadvertently walked into a situation of extreme danger, and the trap was being beautifully arranged. I would learn what that trap was a few hours later.]

Immediately after this, a rather unintelligent man at the table who had been overhearing a little of the conversation started talking. He was a fireman, and he had gone through a UFO sighting that was fantastic by anyone’s account.

I just wished the guy would shut up, so I could keep on asking the contractor more questions. But the fireman kept on talking and talking, and then his brother sat down and picked up the story when the fireman left!

I felt annoyed at how it seemed that some mysterious force had abruptly caused this interference and halted my conversation with the man. I could tell that the contractor was about to leave, but I didn’t feel right in just telling the fireman to shut up.

“I’ll be down in the café if you need me,” the professor said, smiling quietly.

“Okay,” I mumbled helplessly, as I watched the man leave while the fireman’s brother continued to talk ad nauseum about his stinkin’ UFO sighting.

This guy had very quickly bored the contractor to tears. I tried not to show how angry I was on my face.

Slightly later on, another man who had been sitting at the table started to talk to me. “Greg C.” was younger, early to mid-40’s, Italian, and just a little bit heavy, wearing a green polo shirt and light tan pants.

I noticed that he had been sitting there at the table for a long time, but hadn’t said a word. He suddenly began to speak, which surprised me. This too was carefully arranged through telepathic influence by my spiritual forces.

“Did that guy say that he wanted to meet with you in private?” the man said.

Now I was even more confused. “Uh, yeah, he did.”

“Just as I thought,” he responded.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, there’s always a few of those guys at these things,” he said. “They look around and see who’s doing all the talking. They are looking for guys like you.”

I gulped. “Well, he’s already got my name,” I said. “What does he want?”

“Well, let me tell you. I am part of the Pine Bush UFO group,” he said.

“Wow, I know about Pine Bush! That a big UFO hotspot that’s right near where I live in New York!” I answered.

“Well good, maybe you can come to one of our meetings. Anyway, we always see a few of these guys at a UFO conference. Usually they are looking for young artists or musicians who have a very deep interest in metaphysics and UFO’s.”

“Why artists and musicians?” I asked. “I have studied jazz and play the drums, but he never even asked me about that.”

 “Oh, really? Very interesting… Anyway, what they do is offer you a lot of money and an opportunity to participate in some psychic experiments,” he said.

“You have to get a background check and sign a form that promises you won’t tell anyone about it. Then they take you somewhere and do some experiments with you.

“We’ve heard many stories of people like this coming forward later on, after they were spontaneously kicked out of the projects. The researchers have found that artists and musicians tend to be naturally psychic, and it is these people who work the best in the experiments.”

“What type of experiments?” I asked.

“Well, from what we can tell, they try to get you to obtain information through processes like remote viewing, or possibly even telepathic contact with extraterrestrials,” he said.

“As long as you go along with it, everything’s fine. But if you disagree with any of the questions or procedures, you suddenly get thrown out of the program.

“They swear you to secrecy and afterwards your phone is tapped, people follow you around, et cetera. They warn you not to talk about what you were involved with. And if you keep talking, well…”

“Like the Men in Black,” I said, with a half-serious, half-sarcastic smile. I didn’t quite buy what he was telling me.

“You got it.”

“So you mean to tell me that all this might have just happened to me if I went and met with that guy?”

“Well, I would have offered it to you, but you could have refused,” he said. “He might have given you some information as well, but it wouldn’t necessarily be the truth.

“He might tell you that it would be in the interest of national defense, that we are worried about getting attacked or something like that. When he convinces you that you can help them, he’s got you.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said, shaking my head and trying unsuccessfully to laugh. “If what you’re saying is really true, then this is some heavy shit.”

He laughed. “Come on now, David, you knew this stuff was going on! You must have read about it hundreds of times, for how many books you have studied.”

“Yeah, I have, but he was a nice guy,” I answered.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Greg answered.

“I guess so.”

 

THE BIRTH OF THE “WANDERER”

About one month after attending the conference, in November of 1996, I succeeded in doing exactly what the defense contractor would have apparently wanted me to do; opening up telepathic contact with extraterrestrial beings.

I achieved my burning wish of communicating directly with the Experimenters, those who were the Masters of my own life — the coordinators and planners, my own self in higher realms. It was exactly what had been secretly prophesied in my works of fiction, only now it was reality.

I was to become one of only a handful of people on this planet who could genuinely call themselves Celestial Ambassadors, speaking on behalf of the higher forces involved in our own evolution.

The words would come to me almost effortlessly as I listened to my own thoughts when awakening in the morning. The entire event would be another tremendous milestone, changing the way I would think and feel about my life forever.

But before we go into the actual event itself, we need to explore several other crucial areas to fill in the full amount of background detail. You see, by the time that I started this contact, I had been aware for an entire year that my soul was very different; I had lived as an extraterrestrial at some point before my present life on Earth.

This was obviously a very major portion of what I was supposed to be learning from the forces, but I was mistaken in thinking that it would have stopped there. So let’s backtrack a bit and put the pieces together.

 

THE SLEEPER AWAKENS

On my winter break from college, a little over three months after I had stopped using marijuana, I knowingly violated the “people, places and things” rule that is advocated in all twelve-step groups, by reinvolving myself with the people, places and things that had surrounded me during my addiction.

In this case, that meant hanging out with my old drug buddies, two brothers who lived up the road from me. At that point, I was just starting to put all the pieces back together. I was thinking back to my psychic experiences at a very young age.

I reflected on my ceaseless dedication to be of service to others, often at my own catastrophic expense. I felt as if I was beginning to understand why I always knew that I was here for an important reason, destined to become a spiritual figure for many people.

Now that I had regained control of my life, I was more certain of these truths than ever before.

And there, in the same kitchen where so many wasted nights had been spent, I outlined my emerging feelings, brought about through the incredible, life-changing process of recovery. I could not have imagined the response that I would get.

As they puffed away on cigarettes and slammed beer, I was essentially told by the two brothers that I would “work a dead-end job, marry a fat, ugly bitch and die broken-hearted, shit poor and alone just like everyone else does.”

Their denouncements became so forceful that I said that if they didn’t stop with their verbal attacks, I was going to walk out. They continued to rail on me, telling me that I was “totally full of shit” to think that I could be anyone special.

Disgusted, I got up and walked out, without so much as a single goodbye statement; just “I’m leaving now.”

Walking home, I continued to pick up all the garbage off of the street. No matter how often I would pick it up, literally every night, there would always be more the next day.

One of my earliest spiritual disciplines, while still actively using marijuana, was to declare myself “keeper” of the road between my house and the house of my friends. It never ceased to amaze me the amount of carelessness that was displayed.

Now I was back home from college and at it again. Every night I went up there, I would come home with two good handfuls of waste, thrown by those who simply didn’t care — about themselves or the Earth. No sooner would I renew the road but a new wave of careless people would come through to dirty it up again.

Clutching my handfuls of waste in both hands, I stood at the crossroads, the intersection between my friends’ street and my own home street. The rushing sound of a nearby train echoed in the background, and later I would realize how profoundly this produced a metaphorical statement about the upcoming Ascension.

For some strange reason, I felt compelled to make a statement to the Experimenters who I had written about, and would soon know to exist from my NASA disclosure the following spring. I felt that this was the only way to regain my sanity after such a vicious attack.

Forming my arms into the shape of the Cross for no apparent reason, I looked to one distinct area of the starry night sky and started to pray.

“I know that you can hear what I am about to say. No matter what anyone tries to say or do to me, I know that I am here for a very important purpose, to become a spiritual leader for others.

I will do everything I can to fulfill my spiritual mission on this planet, and nothing and no one can change that truth.”

At the exact moment that I finished saying that sentence, a shooting star streaked through the sky, exactly within the small area that I had been staring at! Simultaneously, I felt a tremendous bolt of energy surge up through me from the ground.

It was so powerful that the garbage dropped out of my hands, and I stood there for a minute, just feeling its incredible, ecstatic frequencies coursing through me. I had gotten my answer, more wonderfully and completely than I could have ever imagined.

Tears streamed down my face, and I came home electrified. Before entering the house, I noticed the old white birch tree in the front yard. I came up to it and hugged it, apologizing for having ignored it for all those years since my youth, when I used to climb in it every week.

The tree was about to be cut down, because it was rotting out and needed to be cleared for new growth. I had asked my mother to please spare the tree, that I didn’t want to see it go, that it had meant so much to me when I was a kid.

But now I knew that there was no turning back. The old ways wouldn’t work anymore, and a new life was going to be planted in its place. The sapling would stretch and yearn towards a new tomorrow, leaving much more of the bright green grass exposed than the shadowing from the old tree.

All things truly had to move in cycles, and I also knew that my own life had forever changed by this stunning affirmation of the validity of my mission on the planet.

Now I had the proof, directly from the Source. ET phoned home, and God had answered the phone. I just didn’t realize that I was the ET yet.

 

 

MEMORIES RESURFACING

A year and a half later, in the summertime, Jude “commissioned” me to write a movie script. Jude’s instructions were simple enough: he wanted a script where the thoughts, actions and decisions of one person were seen to affect the fate of the entire planet.

Other than that one guiding point, I had complete creative reign over the finished product. By this point, I had been through over two years of intensive UFO research, and thus I was much better informed about the topic.

However, the concept of being a “Wanderer” had never come up in my reading, and I had no idea if this was who I was. Yet, we will see how effortlessly this information emerged in the finished product below.

Once again, we will also see the emergence of Grandfather and Lucia in the script; this time, as the heavenly characters “Old One” and “Light.” (Lucia means “Light.” I had no idea that these were the “names” they actually gave themselves at the time.)

 

THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE

by David Wilcock

(Shot: Colored lights of rounded shapes against a black background, music that has a rhythmic melodic motif that is repeated with string pads swelling over it, and little cosmic noises that are more random, heavily echoed and not too easily heard in the overall mix)

(Voices emerge after opening credits roll with music over this background – voices have a decent delay on them, and they are spoken in a near – musical, highly inflected way.

OLD ONE: “Light, we must address the imminent situation in the lower astral levels. We need to decide on a society there, and test them to see if they are worthy to be seeded throughout the galaxy.

We must select a society for this upgrade soon — It seems that there is a quite frequent level of chaos occurring in their current timeframe that we have been studying.”

LIGHT: (Laughing) “Yes, old one, there certainly is. However, I do not see your need to question this. There is a perpetual state of flux in all the lower levels – we are well aware of that.”

OLD ONE: “That is a fact. However, we seem to be witnessing a distressing turn of events. The chaos equations are reaching the extinction points faster than we had originally imagined.

For example, just look at those stubborn aquatic creatures in Omicron. They are driving themselves into catastrophe at an alarming rate. They have depleted their biosphere faster than we could have ever imagined once they started cloning themselves. They have nearly doubled their growth rate in ten of their years.

LIGHT: “Do you think that they should be the selection?”

OLD ONE: “I don’t necessarily think so. Because of their ability to travel in their sector, they are able to prevent widespread destruction. Their population has spread out to their neighbor planets, so it would take a full-scale interplanetary war for them to become extinct.

They still have a great deal of corruption in their society, but they have not fully fulfilled the tenets of the chaos equation. We need to select a society that meets all the criteria.”

LIGHT: “Very well. What about the Jovianic creatures? Their enormous food deficit has caused them to begin consuming each other. Their cannibalistic drives are literally destroying their civilization!”

OLD ONE: “Yes, but the very nature of a gas-based creature presents its own array of problems. First contact would be quite difficult there — you do remember that their only means of telling each other apart is by the sense of smell. We need to find a society that has full sensory capacities.

Besides, although the Jovians are intelligent, they lack the appendages necessary to provide them with the ability to handle the upgrade — they do not have the ability to grasp or to carry objects of any significant size.

We need to select creatures that will be able to build and use the things that we show them before they can be distributed throughout the galaxy.”

LIGHT: “I see the logic in your thought. It is difficult to select a society for upgrading. But if we are able to find the appropriate society, we could get the colonization procedures underway immediately.”

OLD ONE: “There is an idea that I have been contemplating for quite some time. What if we were to use a society that has already been through an upgrade? That way, they will already have been contacted in the past, and will have artifacts on their planets that show them the truth of their origins.”

LIGHT: “Are you referring to the Bryars? They are fully aware of their origins, and they meet the chaos equation fairly well.”

OLD ONE: “That was not the one I had in mind. I do not feel comfortable with upgrading an insectile race. They tend to be very communal, and they often repress their own free will. I am not convinced that they are making true moral decisions as individuals — they tend to let their society rule their decision making process.”

LIGHT: “Well, what, then? You are suggesting that we find a society that has been upgraded already — a society that has been seeded on their native planet by a race of progenitors.

Wouldn’t it be necessary for the vast majority of them to be unaware of their origins? For if they were, they would regain contact with them at some point and the chaos equation would be destroyed.”

OLD ONE: “I have studied this, and there is one society that was produced by an upgrade that has almost completely lost touch with their origins. It is the Delta 437 seeding location of the Hain society.”

LIGHT: “Hain. Yes, I do recall that event. What are its precise specifications?”

OLD ONE: “One standard, medium aged sun, and eleven planets. Gravitational forces have destroyed one of the planets already, and the society that is there has not discovered the last planet yet. So, they only know of nine in their present time.”

LIGHT: “What were the dynamics of the seeding?”

OLD ONE: “They have the basic Hainian primitive structure — a head, with the “brain,” or processing unit located very close to the eyes, ears, nose and mouth to reduce the nervous system transmission speeds.

Limb structure includes two “arms” and two “legs” that they use for locomotion. Reproduction is of the covariant format — only two beings are needed, and their sexual organs were fashioned primitively, as opposing pairs.”

LIGHT: “Where are the nearest Hainian structures?”

OLD ONE: “They have several artifacts on their planet that are Hainian. There is a circle of stones that tracks the solstices and cycling of planetary bodies in the upper rotational quadrant, and in the middle rotational quadrant there are pyramidal structures that the Hainians supervised the construction of.”

LIGHT: “They don’t know this?”

OLD ONE: “No. The language of the society that helped build the pyramids was mostly lost, and they did not write of the encounter — only the rulers knew how it was being done. They killed the men who were in charge of the plans.”

LIGHT: “Very well. It seems that they have enough artifacts on the planet for them to eventually determine their origins. Where is the Hainian observation colony located?”

OLD ONE: “There is a rather large colony that was established on their neighboring planet, which they have named Mars, the god of war. It was established 200,000 of their years before the chaos / equilibrium time we are exploring.

The Hainians put a flagging structure on the surface in the form of a huge mountain shaped like the standard Hainian head. The Delta 437 creatures, who call themselves Earthlings, have discovered the colony. But they have held the information back from most of their people.

They believe the structures to be deserted, and to a certain extent that is true. But, there are still operations being conducted from there.”

LIGHT: “And what operations might that be?”

OLD ONE: “The Hainians sent missionaries to the Martian base when they realized that nuclear capacity had been developed. In their present timeframe, the Hainians are mass cloning the Earthen population with their swollen-headed worker drones.

The memory erasing procedures that are employed by the Hainians and their workers are too primitive, though, and many of the Earthen citizens have memories of the drones and the entire cloning process.

Also, there are numerous reports of Hainian craft sightings. Their governments have obtained some Hainian craft that crashed, and they are currently fleshing out the design prototypes for them.

They have come close to being able to build one, but their people are catching on, and the military spending is being cut. We expect another twenty of their years will be necessary for them to fully develop and distribute prototypes.

LIGHT: “What about the chaos equations?”

OLD ONE: “They have developed nuclear capacity, and they have already used it against each other. They are destroying their habitat, and industrialization has reached a peak level.

They have not reached any neighboring planets for colonization, so overpopulation is a big problem for them as well. They are now in the process of developing a global database, and air instead of land travel for personal use.”

LIGHT: “So be it! It seems that we may have a candidate. What procedure will we use to determine if they are ready?”

OLD ONE: “We will choose one member of their population only. We will select someone who has one of the greatest capacities for both growth and stagnation.

We will reveal just enough truth to the individual for it to believe that it has excelled over its fellow beings in some way. We will leave it to its own devices, and how it fares will determine whether the society is ready or not.”

LIGHT: “And if it is, then we will reconnect them with the Hainians, and they will be able to spread out! You are brilliant, Old One. Let us select an individual.”

[Incidentally, I did not like Jude’s idea of the entire “upgrade” being hinged on one person. As a result of this frustration, I turned the two spiritual characters above into a form of “cosmic tricksters.”

As in the case of all of my fiction stories, not all of the information turned out to align with my later findings, but many key points emerged in this fourth early attempt at fiction. What we do see is my wrestling with my feelings of being “chosen” or different from other people, because of my knowledge.

The next character I created was meant to mirror the part of myself that was still struggling with the memories of an addiction / recovery process, and the day-by-day challenge of being human.]

 

(Establishing shot — the outside of a house. After a fixed camera angle of a short duration, a figure enters in from the right-hand side, and walks into the house. He is walking in a very agitated condition.)

(Cut to inside of house. It is Khan, the first lifeform. He walks up to the kitchen table. On it is a letter from his mother. The letter reads — “Khan — I’m spending the night at Roger’s. Make sure you lock the doors and shut out the lights before you go to bed. Love, Mom.”)

(Jump cut to Khan’s face, showing a surprised smile. He heads upstairs.)

KHAN: (mentally) “What a day. So much shit went wrong. I don’t know where it all started. I’ve got so much work to do, but right now all I want to do is relax.

That class is really starting to get to me — it seems like time just stops when I’m in there. The teacher’s voice is just like a drone. What I really need to do is just chill out.”

(Lies down on bed.) “I ought to try to call somebody – it’s not very often that Mom leaves all night like this. I want to see if I can get something going. (Picks up telephone.)

[At this point in the story, the lead character Khan makes a phone call and brings friends over to his house, and some comedy ensues as they drink alcohol together.

The friends pressure him into smoking marijuana, and then right after they finish smoking, they suddenly tell him that they have to leave.

He falls asleep very soon afterwards, still worried about getting caught by his mother. We then segue directly into the next section, a dream of Khan’s:]

(Scene: Looking through the eyes of a person walking. As dialogue breaks, cut to various scenes of seedier parts of the city of Albany, New York.)

(All dialogue mental unless otherwise indicated)

“Look at these conditions. I feel so bad for these poor souls – we have seeded their planet with a more primitive form of ourselves, and look at what it’s become – there’s so much needless waste.”

“Many of these souls look so empty — you can see the hatred and the distaste for life. Where is the joy – where is the newness?

All I see is suffering. There’s so much more that they could be feeling. Violence is erupting all over, just a manifestation of their severe distaste for life. It is a horrible crime to turn against your own people.”

“I remember seeing the pictographs of ancient Hain — it was similar to this. Once we developed the neural tracking machines, we were able to hear the psychic frequencies of our inner thoughts, and we then knew exactly how saddened our people really were. They were so depressed and tired of our world.”

“I’ve always been fascinated with the ancient story of the upgrade. We arrived at a point in time where our people were so frustrated at their powerlessness in the world that they looked within themselves — that was what they had power over, that was what they could change. We believe this to be occurring here right now. Apparently the Great Powers have seen this as well.”

“It’s odd to try to fulfill my mission here on Earth — so many of the behaviors I have been forced to adopt feel so animalistic.

“I cannot look people in the eye in the cities because it has become their social code. On the Hainian colonies, there is never such hatred and fear. I have to constantly rush, and look down — if I try to relax and look around, they think I’m a Dacro-driv addict or some such thing.”

“It’s hard to imagine what is going through these people’s minds, having never been through an upgrade.

There would be so much uncertainty, so much ignorance about how truly vast the universe is, and all the levels of intelligence that are simultaneously monitoring and controlling how things work. I can hardly imagine a world where the only intelligent life that you communicate with is your own.”

“I have yet to fulfill my mission. We must try to find the individual who has been selected for the upgrade process. For too long, the Great Powers have interfered with our business.

This is our colony, and they have no right to design an upgrade plan when we already have seeded them here. Hain is a powerful force now — we are completely capable of upgrading these people ourselves. There are many indigenous lifeforms throughout the galaxy; why did they choose ours?”

“If this man only knew that the Powers were resting the fate of his whole world just on his own actions! It would be too hard for him to comprehend. I don’t agree with that upgrade method at all; they should be looking at the society as a whole.

I feel that it is just a sign of their arrogance. Throwaway civilizations, like a lottery, with one entity’s successes and failures determining the outcome of the whole show. If that entity gets ensnared and ends up going down the wrong path, bye-bye upgrade.”

“I must find him and let him know. We were able to secure his approximate psychic plasma frequency by analyzing the ray that the Great Powers have beamed here for monitoring his behavior. I have tuned into his psychic frequency as best as I can, and he should be able to hear my thoughts eventually, if we can slow his mind down enough.

(Fade out and back into living room. Khan is opening up his eyes and staring in a daze.)

KHAN: (Mentally) “God damn! I must have fell asleep. I feel so strange. What the hell was I just thinking?”

“Oh, yeah, I was having a great dream! Right out of a science fiction book. This is really wild! That’s got to be the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me! All the images and the feelings seemed so realistic.

“I was looking at everything that I commonly would see in Albany, but it was all so different, as if I had seen it for the first time. My mind in the dream was so strange — I felt like I was not even human, just an extraterrestrial soul who was wandering around in a human body. And — boy, this is strange — I felt like this soul was searching for me! How could that be possible?”

At this point, the play moves back into another scene, which described the struggle of my character Khan with the marijuana scene. I used this scene as a means of processing my smoking experiences with Randy.

I presented the unfinished script to Jude at this point, and Jude wasn’t sure if he could actually use it to make a movie. He certainly wasn’t crazy about the drug use in the script.

The drive and dedication to commit to the project did not seem to be there, and so I did not finish writing the script. The finished portion certainly showed how much of the knowledge that I would eventually acquire was brewing beneath the surface of my conscious mind.