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distant where my own footsteps on the leaves below sounded as they might with fingers in my ears. I couldn’t even describe this light as a fog because even our traditional “pea soup fog” was never this consistent. The best analogy I can give is something like being inside a lit argon bulb and still being able to see. This light was an energy in itself robbing the five senses and blanking out all except the craft and myself. The object above was the nucleus of everything and the only spot where the white consistency broke. I had the impression that the craft and I were the last two occupiers of reality. This white realm was a strange and familiar place that always seemed to happen as a prelude to something even stranger. Years later, during my research, I ploughed through a number of books on the paranormal and read about many familiar sensations but none identical to this white limbo that I had often plunged into during encounters. Maybe it wasn’t anything external but an induced state of my mind. Perhaps everybody’s is different. It was during the whiteness that I became incredibly tired and wanted to lie down. The craft still pulsated above with a brilliant white with a hypnotic effect on me. Normally when I think back to this part of the story, the disorientation creeps in and catapults me forward to the time I wake up but that wasn’t going to happen. Something took place while in the docile state, the one I called a dream. It began as one of those “swimming” dreams where one can do the breaststroke in mid air. I swam or was drawn upwards towards what looked like an opening in the craft’s underside. To swim away from this opening would have been like resisting a strong current towards a plughole but I don’t remember even trying. In fact the experience felt more tranquil than threatening. I only remembered feeling vaguely concerned that I was too drowsy for the task ahead, instinctively knowing there was a task ahead. Out of nowhere came a voice of reassurance the moment the doubtful thought entered my mind, something to the effect of “Stay calm, you won’t be asked to do anything.” Iremembered thinking either to myself or if in response to the source-less voice how relieving that was to hear. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Feeling myself pass through what seemed to be a portal in the object (only identifiable by a different tone of light) felt briefly familiar, like slowly drawing a tissue from a box of handkerchiefs. There have been a number of times where my entire self felt as light and versatile as tissue, which I will explain later when I try to analyse the astral side. Without the unexplained pull coming from this portal, I honestly felt light enough to be blown away 78