Andrew Hennessey


One night, alone in my bedroom, it was dark and as I looked over to my bookcase, I could see two little green fluorescent balls bouncing over the tops of my books. They proceeded one row at a time and when they got to one end they hopped down to the next shelf and started on their merry way again.

Thinking that I was hallucinating, I turned over on my side for a few minutes, and when I looked back .. they were still there doing their thing. It was then I noticed that I seemed to have left a table lamp on and judging from the shadows it was in the far corner of the room. Then I realised that I did not have a table lamp and when I looked across I could see a silvery sparkling sphere about two feet in diameter flickering and casting wavering shadows with the furniture.


I then heard some voice say .. ' don't be afraid ..' and the sphere drifted over to the foot of my bed. Next the voice said '.. if you are afraid, pull the covers over your head.' I decided that that was the best thing to do at that point and I lost consciousness. I awoke and looked across at the clock, and noted that two hours had passed and then realised that I had gone asleep with the covers over my head but that somehow they had been folded down and that they had been tucked in so tightly that  I could not move my arms.


I started working my arms free realising that I could see images of some white room and strange beings. I asked my guardian angel what had just happened and he said 'not to worry'.

According to the research of Harvard University Professor John E Mack who met with an untimely end in London, this was a classic bedroom encounter with the Greys, who everyone now realises are not up to much that is good.

The best work of my guardian Angel though has been to keep my experience of being human as ecumenical and hands on as possible thus preserving my humanity from the need to be up front superhuman and hence beyond the need for this kind of life here – as we still have stuff to work on. 


No-one who was ever human has avoided this stuff.


Of the many flying dreams that he has taken me on in my life, that have included flying as a couple of gulls over a becalmed trireme on a glassy bronze sea or swooping over beautiful pine forests and mountains – as part of my programme of education in interstellar reality he took me on a space flight in our astral bodies across the interplanetary deeps to the planet Mars.

I am on the rim of a crater there and can see inside the crater a huge metallic dome which I am told is a factory.

I have since seen and acquired a similar photograph from the NASA satellite films of Mars.

We fly over to the top of the metallic dome and somehow float down through the roof to the inside. It is a huge factory and is running stuff off on its production line.

We go down to ground level for a closer look and I can see lots and lots of little oranges in packing and containers and some on what looked like a conveyor belt.

I follow these oranges up to the unit that they are emerging from and I can see one of them cut open. They are full of red veins like blood oranges, and I look at the centre of them expecting to see little pips and pith, but instead see a little heart and small organs.

These were blood oranges in the truest sense. Someone somewhere has a taste for humanity. This didn't sound like it was all that wonderful to me.


With a series of strange phone calls, cars outside the house and these somewhat strange dreams and a bizarre plain clothes stop and search in the days before bizarre stop and search, things didn't seem to be getting any better.

In 1985, having been finally overborne by incoming and inconsolable social nonsense my mind finally submitted to that which my heart had been telling me – that I couldn't do this alone and needed some help.


My mother, felt that she was somehow descended from Scottish Royalty and had unusual royal blood a fact unfortunately supported by her GP and that her real mother lay in the Stewart cemetery at Lilliesleaf in the Scottish Borders. She recommended that I see someone about my problems.


The psychiatrist, however, didn't focus on my mother but instead upon my under-achievements, and before you could say the word lunatic I was the prize patient of Scotland's then leading Professor and his Teaching Hospital.


I was just getting metabolically acclimatised to extreme and severe levels of liquid cosh in my ward of four men when I could make out through waves of relative unconsciousness that the older man in the next bed was giving me sinister attitudes and seemed to have taken an interest in and direct hate for my life. There was nothing anybody could do about that.

I couldn't move.


Night time falls and the bedlam of noise subsides as the omnipresent neutralisation of extreme and ingested biochemicals created the socially expected and desirable shutdown behind the eyelids.

I am well gone.

Suddenly in my head the shout of 'No .. !!' and I open my eyes slowly coming back from the land of the chemically dead and my eyes open on a scene of dread. To my amazement my body totally animated and exerting itself is kicking out at this strong man who had been making progress between an item of furniture and coming up the narrow gap afforded by my bed to access my head and shoulders.


He stood there pushing away at my flailing feet and legs with his arms and he was fully awake.


Eventually order is restored in the customary way and I hear the excuse that the guy was just sleepwalking. The next night however, the exact same thing happened again and again my guardian Angel got into my legs and kept him off while I was waking up and help arrived.

I was getting help.



He had allegedly been sleepwalking in a very intelligent way, navigating those difficult obstacles to get round to my vulnerable areas yet again though perhaps they conceded that some familiar pattern was emerging.

He was then considered so healthy after that that he got discharged almost the next day.


It is absolutely true that my life had been saved on two occasions by an intervention from my Guardian Angel.


My next opportunity for social madness was my introduction to Big Ted, a cockney nightmare built like a brick shit house. He would sort of get me alone in these places where one tries to go to get away from the explosive personalities. His main line of questioning about my life was whether I was an ok and safe citizen in a security context and whether or not my politics were safe.  We would play catch with medicine ball in the gym as he returned to his central theme 'are you Alright ??'

The dialog would go amongst the pushing and shoving . 'I'm alwight are you alwight ??'

When he suggested that I would not like to meet his friends as they did bad things and were part of some network I was inclined to believe him as I was not really sure what their social and political agenda was for my life at all…


As this was after all not quite a Russian Gulag I was surprised to hear Professor Zak advise me that I 'should not go Russian into things.'

I would have been more reassured to have heard the word 'rushing' in reference to my academic aspirations though.

I was after all … 'alright' at least as far as I was concerned.

I did allegedly seem to have these troublesome pretensions in that I thought that I could play the violin according to the medical students who were studying my case as part of their course.

[I actually have a 22 CD catalogue of professional recordings]

When they then started asking questions about what I read and evaluated how I thought about issues they discovered that my intellectual pretensions knew no bounds and that I was interested in advancing my own theory of relativity in the philosophy of science.


I could of course not play the violin supplied at the time on the dosage of biochemical suppressant recommended, as violin playing is somewhat dependent on the being able to move one's arms and fingers.  I was therefore going to fail the official examination of my musicality and be officially stereotyped as some sort of loser who cannot even do music.


All of my ridiculous under achievements were being collated into an official case study which proved beyond any doubt to any professional and any trainee professional that I was a pointless waster and loser with ideas and aspirations beyond my capacity to attain.

I'm lying on my bed fully medicated, starting to think that things could only get better when my eyes started seeing swimming about the room what I could recognise from the days I worked out as a biologist, as marine plankton.

It was as if I were looking down a microscope at a variety of translucent zooplankton of the type found at the bottom of the sea. They appeared to be both alive and busy grazing on whatever was down there, and I remember thinking that I'm a bit exposed here.

I was just thinking out loud .. give me a break .. when my Guardian Angel appeared above me and lifted my spirit out of my body and embraced me.

This was the true reality.

I later took photographs of this kind of pseudo marine paranormal life with flash photography.


Having just settled down on my bed feeling a bit better, professor Zak appears and tells me that I have a couple of visitors and would I mind coming along to the counselling room with him.

Visitors, I thought, that sounds intriguing as I'm sure that my mother was too busy stalking the Roxburgh manor to get her Scottish crown back than bother come see me.…

I enter the room with professor Zak and see the most amazing sight I had ever seen at that time.

Two men six foot three, well built, both looked alike, western complexion, in their fifties, fair and older, curly, short trimmed hair, both looking in fact like identical twins were standing there wearing grey long tailed morning suits with dark pin stripes as though they had been or were going to a wedding.

Their shirt collars were white starched comprising of a white band folded down and over at the throat to create two triangular wings under which was a dark ornate silk bow tie pinned with a solitary white pearl.


Professor Zak introduces me though I cannot remember the names, they were from some institute, but he then said 'would you mind explaining your theory of relativity' to these men.

I have memories of lying on the floor. Then as I came round, professor Zak said 'you can go now !'


The only reference to this meeting in my case notes which I later accessed under the Freedom of Information Act was;  'had two visitors, was settled.' Unfortunately though my case notes have since totally disappeared and are no longer on record.


These intimidating establishment figures, often dark and oriental, but generally wearing the recognisable garb of authority are legendary in UFOLOGY as the men in black.

It is of course very easy to officially deny that kind of encounter in that kind of environment. After all who would believe you if you had some sort of 'formal thought disorder'.

I could not help but wonder at what sort of horrors might be inflicted in these places on innocent and vulnerable human beings.


Next thing I know my luck is again in … as I have been invited before a case review .. a conference of students who have been studying and investigating my life as part of their attempts to understand social redundancy.

These 'students' though were already fully qualified as Doctors of Medicine and other post graduate degrees.

I am suitably prepared for the meeting with copious amounts of liquid thorizine and am able to shuffle, keeping most of my saliva under control, to the appointed hall.

The door is opened for me, thankfully, and I enter a big room absolutely full of highly trained and educated, and socially mobile and successful people. At least 60 professionals. They had been selling tickets no doubt.

I sat down up front next to the teaching Professional in one of the two available chairs. The professor then got round to my central problem in life as far as this assembled legion was concerned. My unarticulated and un-educated ideas on relativity.

Would you mind explaining them to everyone, and there is a blackboard behind you if you need it.

Salivating at the very thought I realised that this opportunity had caught me perhaps deliberately, at a bad time, as I was at a huge disadvantage not having the normal use of my organs of speech.

Neither was standing up much of a long term option which had a lot to do with my heart being unable to supply lots of blood to my head, it being seriously invalidated with chemicals.

Unprepared and unexpectedly socially compromised I tried my best to explore the philosophical ground based on what reading I could at that time remember.

Suddenly the professor stands up and screams at me 'Get Out !!', 'Get Out !!' and points to the door stiffly with his arm like the heartless plank of wood that he was. 'Get OUT !! a third time and I am being dismissed like a dog in what amounted to an attempt at a total execution of my self-esteem.

The lesson for the day from this medical teaching professional therefore is how to deal with and administer to people who have had a bad time.

Certainly in his lifetime, I would refute his reason for being.

I would today pay money to see that case study, however, it looks like some Man in Black has gone and buried it.

It is now officially as if I was never there – and well, maybe I am just delusional about ever having been there in the first place.


The Men in Black that had been trying to get me in 1977 at the Newbattle Abbey Black Op were back in for me in 1985. Their focus of attention appeared to be my sense of intellectual independence.

Perhaps it was less my theory of relativity they were after and more trying to target my awakening sense of reality which would enable me to identify the alien inconsistencies so obvious in human society.


As I discovered though, these alien creeps do seem to get a lot of help and support from an assorted collection of human official and deniable operations.


I would seamlessly proceed on from there straight into one of the top administration jobs in the Scottish civil service and there spend an excellent two or three years working for management services team and numerous heads of department.


The aliens and their circus though, were persistent.



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