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Ten Your Time Cycle?” “What Is In November 1966, two women were standing in a field outside of Owatonna, Minnesota, watching a familiar sight—what they called little flashers: bright, blinking lights that danced around the sky almost every night. Suddenly one of the objects descended rapidly and hovered at the far end of the field where they stood, swinging back and forth a few feet above the ground. Colored lights flickered around its glowing rim. One of the women let out a little gasp and crumpled to her knees in a trancelike daze. Her friend, Mrs. Ralph Butler, reached for her, but she was immobile, her head dipped down. A strange voice, stilted and metallic, came spasmodically from her lips. “What. . .is. . .your. . .time. . .cycle?”” The voice asked. Mrs. Butler recovered from her surprise and tried to explain how we measured minutes, hours, and days. ‘‘What. . .constitutes. ..a.. .day. ..and... what. . .constitutes. . .a. . .night?. . .”” The voice continued. “A day is approximately twelve hours long—and a night is twelve hours long,”’ Mrs. Butler replied. There were a few more innocuous questions, and then the other woman came out of her trance. “Boy, I‘m glad that’s over,’ she remarked simply. The object shot upward. Believing that they had communicated with a flying saucer through some incredible telepathic means, both women were naturally excited. But later when they tried to discuss the incident with others, they found that they suddenly came down with blinding Lan dnaban headaches. Mrs. Butler wrote to me after reading one of my magazine articles. I immediately called her and spoke to her for almost an hour. “It’s strange,”’ she declared, ‘‘but this is the first time I’ve ever been able to talk about these things without getting a splitting headache.” I asked her all of my weird and seemingly silly questions, and she had all the right answers. She had been having unusual telephone problems