The Otherness - Tim Watts-pages

Page 83 of 154

Page 83 of 154
The Otherness - Tim Watts-pages

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This is as accurate as I can be given the incomprehensibility of all things telepathic. “He” seemed to be my last person to liaison with on that bizarre trip as it looked as though it was my time to depart. It was at this point that I remembered where those mysterious battery objects I possessed came from. Iremembered him giving me something like a handful of metal chips almost as a farewell. He convinced me that the objects held a particularly special purpose, something to do with “collection” and that I needed to keep them for a while. His instructions were well followed. On reflection I have a fair idea of what he meant by “collection.” An impression came to me of a method I could compare to psychometry, the technique used to study a person’s past present and sometimes future using objects they possess such as jewellery. The objects were not necessarily attached to me like jewellery instead only left in my house but that apparently was enough to collect whatever “vibes” I may have transmitted. I clearly remember collecting them from the cupboard where my gas appliance was but don’t remember actually putting them there. In fact, the moment that being presented them to me was all I really remembered of the objects. In an instant, that scene changed to another without a transition. This new scene hurt my head slightly when I try to recall it because of “disorientation.” I remember seeing light similar to the light I first witnessed where everything went white and all I could see was the luminous amber blob with the sky resembling liquid. The same tiredness consumed me and I couldn’t resist passing out. Before I could comprehend anything, I remembered feeling dry grass beneath me while turning over to try to see the odd light again. Nothing. Stupid dream were the only words I remember, whether they were my uttering or someone else’s. Stupid dream seemed quite reasonable as I recall the weariness pulling me back down into a deep sleep. Upon waking, the only fragments of memory I had were of a dream and the only image coming to mind seemed to be that amber blob. Just thinking about that at the time with its accompanying white light seemed to hurt my eyes and querying it only activated that mental boundary, making my head hurt even more. That was my memory--alien disorientation, psycho-dramatic scenes and mental programming, all fantastic feats of engineering possible from another realm. Where did any of this leave me? That night, since seeing the oil 83