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13 “| thought angels had wings, and | laughed because he laughed with his eyes because he knew what | was thinking about the wings. | got kind of scared because | knew he was really an angel then. He knew what | thought, and only angels can tell what you think all the time, except so can Jesus. So | thought in my head, Do you know Jesus? and the beings and | filled up with a ‘love’ feeling that kind of made me cry and ‘know’ something special. And the being said, Yes in my head. | said, Are you like the angels? And the being said, Yes, but not as you have been taught. | wanted to stay with them and go back with them.” “Pat, stop for a minute,” the interrogator interrupted, “and let us ask you a question. You said you wanted to go back with them? Where did you want to go back to?” “| can’t tell you that,” Pat replied, “I’m not supposed to tell that part. But the angel said when it was time to go they would come back, they promised me. | made them promise me. | made them promise not to forget me and | begged them to take me, but he said it wasn’t time yet. | begged and cried and felt real sad. Mr. Donaldson asked me why | was crying, and | told him, ‘Because you’re making me cry and you’re making me tell, and I’m not supposed to tell, and you think I’m lying, but I’m not.” “Okay, stop crying, Pat,” Mr. Donaldson told her. “Calm down and listen to my voice. | don’t think you’re lying, and we won't ask you any more questions if you tell us about your souvenirs. Where are they, Pat? Do you have souvenirs?” Pat began to feel very stressful and mistrustful of the army men. She tried not to say anything more, but Mr. Donaldson kept badgering her, “Where are your souvenirs?” “| cried,” Pat said, “and told him they were mine and why did he want them? | said they were in my cigar box under my bed. | wouldn't give them the box, but my sister went and got it for them.” When they took the cigar box, which contained Pat’s “green healer rock,” it was put into one of the metal boxes by the men dressed in the white protective suits. “| saw my grandmother sitting on my bed with the little kids, and she was crying,” Pat recalled. “I asked her if the army men were going to hurt the little boy.” “| told her there was, too, because | sat with him and did things. She just cried some more. And then Mr. Donaldson showed me the triple-TV thing and tried to convince me that | had seen something like it, a robot, and not a little boy. | got real mad and told him, ‘Il saw a real little boy and not a robot.” “Well, Pat,” he said then, maybe you just had a dream about the little boy. Was he in your dream?” “Pat,” the man continued, “it was a dream, a kind of dream that just seems real. You did not see a real little boy because there are no such things.” “Yes, | did,” Pat said, “and he came in the orange ball and looked in my window and filmed me with his eyes.” “It wasn’t a dream,” Pat said stubbornly, “and | was only scared a little bit because he looked so different from me, because he was skinny and gray, but | knew he wouldn’t hurt “Oh, Patty,” the grandmother said, “there is no little boy.” “| didn’t dream him,” Pat insisted, “he was real.” “Did the dream frighten you?” Mr. Donaldson asked.