Human By Day, Zeta By Night

by Judy Carroll

  “Oh, Ali, thank you! Thank you for helping her over. I know she had far more innate spiritual knowledge and true understanding than I will ever have, but it is good to know that she was not alone and unaided on her final journey.”

  Paco left the next day to return to his duties, and at first I worried about him, far away at his parish, being called upon to be a comfort and support to others in their times of trouble, when he really needed some comfort and support himself. However, he was a true Rom, with a far deeper understanding of the perfectly natural cycles of birth, death and rebirth than he gave himself credit for. He had cried openly and unashamedly at his grandmother’s passing, thus allowing himself to express his grief rather than bottling it up inside as some tend to do, and so it quickly passed, freeing him to get on with his life.

  Just as I had been fascinated as a child by the physical workings of my human body, I was now equally awed by the human perspective of emotion, the like of which my people, the Guardians, had not experienced in millennia. It’s not that we lack emotion, but rather that we have learned not to allow it to affect or control our lives. But for me, dwelling as I was upon Earth, a planet governed very much by emotion, in a physical, human body, I could not help but be touched by it. I was not sure whether I enjoyed the sensation or not, but it was an interesting and different experience.

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  Chapter 19 Missing Time

  St. Sara’s Day, May 25th, honors our patron saint and is celebrated by Romany people the world over. It provides us with a link back to our roots — to the time when we had a home and an identity, and a clear understanding of who and what we really are. It takes us back over many thousands of years to our very beginnings on this planet, and our reason for being present on Earth. For those few who know the full story, it also explains why we have never really fit in down here, and why the Controllers have taught others of the Earth human race to despise and distrust us.

  Unless one looks at the bigger picture, the fact that Controllers attacked this lost Guardian patrol base in Northern India may seem a meaningless and tragic occurrence, but, from the universal perspective, there are no accidents — everything is meant to be, and happens for a reason. In fact, there was a very specific reason and a need for a small group of our people to be resident on Planet Earth, not clothed in our normal gray containers, or even in our true form as non-physical light beings, but rather housed in mortal Earth human bodies.

  Numerous stories and legends have persisted over the years, and many misconceptions and untruths have been spread about the so-called “Gypsies,” just as there have been misconceptions and untruths about the so-called “Greys.” Over many generations, our race has been infiltrated by the Controllers, who set a bad example and portray us as very different from how we really are. The true Romanies are a gentle, more matriarchal society, quite different from all the aggressive, male-dominated societies set up on Planet Earth by the Controllers.

  Preparations had been underway for weeks, and many friends from the Romany community were gathering for our own celebration of St. Sara. In the days leading up to May 25, the usually quiet road at the front of our property rather resembled the roads leading to the town of Saintes Maries de la Mer, with a number of brightly painted and some quite intricately carved trailer vans pulled up on the grassy verge. The days of colorful horse-drawn wagons are now well and truly over, particularly in a country such as Australia, where travelling from town to town usually involves very great distances.

  Of course the battered old van belonging to Uncle Luis held pride of place in our driveway, providing an endless source of good-natured joking and amusement. A true master of lateral thinking and adaptability, he’d somehow managed to fit it out with a number of improvised “mod cons,” including his very own private “home theatre” which consisted of an ancient TV set elaborately hooked up to an aerial on the roof of the van. For some reason this weird, patched up-looking device seemed to attract every bird from far and near to come and perch on it, which didn’t do much for Luis’s TV reception.

  Paco too had come to join our celebrations, managing to take two whole weeks off from his parish duties. I had to wonder what excuse he’s used! We spent several hours hard at work practicing a couple of dances as a contribution to the evening’s festivities. Of course no Romany gathering would be complete without music and dance, and we knew very well that by nightfall everyone would be comfortably ensconced around the traditional campfire that is the heart of all Romany celebrations. With everyone well fed and relaxed under a night sky ablaze with stars seemingly close enough for us to reach up and touch them, guitars and violins would appear, seemingly from thin air, and we would be called upon to dance our Alegrias, Soleares, or perhaps a Seguirya, a favorite cante jondo of the Gitanos, the Gypsies of Spain.

  Surrounded by friends and family from far and wide, and with the festive mood continuing for a couple of days, at first I didn’t notice the subtle change in Paco, but as timed passed, I sensed something was badly amiss. By the end of the week life had returned to normal, providing me with an opportunity to speak to him alone.

  “Paco, what’s the matter?” I asked one morning, confronting him in the kitchen. “Are you upset about coming home for the first time after your grandmother’s death?”

  “No, Ali, not really. Of course I still miss her badly, but she was very old, and it was her time, so it would be selfish of me to hold her back with prolonged grief. Surely you know that.”

  “Well then,” I pressed him, “what is wrong?”

  “What do you mean wrong? Why do you ask?”

  “Come on Paco, I know you well enough to know something is the matter. Is it your work? Aren’t you happy being a priest anymore? Is that what’s troubling you?”

  “Oh, Ali, for heaven’s sake, don’t be silly. I’m perfectly happy and contented in my work, and couldn’t possibly imagine myself doing anything else. I really do feel as if I am making a difference in people’s lives — and you know what? Old Father Keating is actually proud of having a Gypsy as his assistant priest. One day he started asking me about my family, so I told him the truth, not really knowing what sort of reaction I would get, but he actually congratulated me for my determination and is now very supportive. Would you believe he even admitted to having some Romany blood himself?”

  For the first time since he’d arrived home, I saw the old Paco, happy and enthusiastic as he spoke about his work, and his dream coming true of being accepted as a Romany within the Priesthood. I could clearly see that it was not work problems troubling him, so what was it? Paco could be so stubborn at times, and getting information out of him could be like trying to pry open a clam shell, but I was determined to find out somehow or other.

  It was business as usual on board our disc that night, and a busy night it was going to be, with four procedures scheduled before morning. Our first human “guest” lay ready on the examination table. We had quite easily managed to teleport her, physical body included, out through the seemingly solid walls of the house and into our hovering craft.

  Once on board we brought her back to a state of normal consciousness, and as usual, we attempted to reach her telepathically, but, just as we always found, the walls of emotion and terror closed around her, cutting her off and closing her mind to our telepathic messages of reassurance.

  As part of my training I was taking special classes involving in-depth studies on human emotion, so it fell upon me to do something. Pushing my way with difficulty through the negative force-field of fear surrounding her, I placed my hands on her temples, drawing her face towards me and her eyes into mine. Slowly but surely a calm descended upon her, quietening her screams and struggles. Although we don’t like doing such things, it was necessary to secure her to the table, to stop any chance of movement during the delicate procedure we were about to carry out. This was more for her safety than for ours.

  Although she was not aware of her soul level agreement, we knew her higher self h
ad given us full permission and, in fact, had requested these procedures to be carried out. We were not over-riding her free will, and I sure wish we could figure out how to get through this fear barrier. All our lives would be easier.

  My mind began to wander to how I could teach my classes on Earth that human consciousness is multidimensional, and can be likened to an iceberg floating in the ocean. The small part of the mind that a level-one human is consciously aware of in physical life is like the tip of the iceberg which can be seen above the water. However, as with an iceberg, the greater part of the mind is hidden beneath the surface. This is the 90% which Earth humans do not consciously utilize, but whether they know it or not contains vast amounts of knowledge and awareness on a subconscious or super-conscious level.

  If one is able to access even a small part of this hidden area of the mind, then information on such things as past lives, soul purpose, higher self and between-life states can easily be recalled. On occasions I raise this point with my students during class to help them to tap more deeply into this vast storehouse of knowledge and awareness of the soul mind, but the thing is, are they acknowledging it fully into both their hearts and minds? I must keep emphasizing that they are vastly more than just a physical body, but are immortal spiritual beings that have existed before and will continue to exist for eternity.

  The other big thing I must help them with is mastering the ability to just detach a little from the myriad distractions of life, work and play which govern their lives and fill the minds of most mortals pulling them back again and again to physical life on…

  “Hey, Alarca, pay attention!” My hands must have lost contact with the woman and Entil’s command brought me back.

  Once again, I took up a position behind the woman with my hands on her temples, directing calming energy into the head chakras and she became completely relaxed. This energy flowed automatically as long as my hands stayed in contact with her energy field, but since it took no conscious effort on my part, once again my mind began to wander. I thought of how many times we had done this, bringing both humans and animals on board our big disc, submitting them to numerous tests and probes, and sometimes even artificial insemination, always working towards the same end, which is the preservation of a world, and the species which dwell thereon.

  Then a realization hit me about how some of them already feel a deep sense of love and oneness on the soul level, especially after they move past the fear that is blocking their inner awareness and open themselves more fully to us. Then they remember, feel the love and know this is part of their life choice. Maybe we are making progress with…

  “Alarca, please. What is wrong with you tonight?”

  “I’m sorry, Entil. My mind is full of thoughts about how we can reach these humans in a better way. I mean really get through to their subconscious.”

  “Well, that’s fine, but keep your hands on this woman please.”

  “Ok, but Entil, have you ever thought about the incredible double life I lead — by day confined to a fully biological human body, then as my container sleeps safely in bed at night, I slip out of it and take up my work here on the disc? And depending on the duties to be performed, I can use either a semi-artificial and totally physical Zeta gray container, or else create an astral body with my mind, or on other occasions when no form at all is required I manifest simply as a light body, which is my true Guardian self?

  “Yes, Alarca. No wonder you are confused sometimes.”

  Then I thought about our other discs operating in the same area on the same night. Tomorrow’s newspapers would perhaps carry reports of “strange lights” seen in the sky along the east coast of Australia, or else perhaps the sighting of a number of UFOs. If enough witnesses came forward, the story could even extend into the news of the day after, then, as usual, it would be brushed aside and forgotten in favor of more interesting and important news items such as the latest sex scandal of Hollywood, or the football and cricket results. Oh, well, in one way this made things easier for us. The last thing we need is publicity of the negative kind that the media seems to thrive on.

  Suddenly a most terrible jarring sensation shook my whole body, rudely shattering my train of thought. A horrific vision hit me, of our disc being bombarded by a giant meteor, or, worse still, another collision and crash. Following procedure I threw myself down on the floor, curling my body up, head down, hands over my eyes, waiting for the impact, as the dreadful shaking continued.

  “Ali! Ali! For God’s sake will you wake up! What the hell is wrong with you? Wake up!”

  As I struggled to pull myself free of clutching five-fingered hands, the shaking stopped. Gasping in shock I opened my eyes and half sat up — only to find myself back in my human body, safe and sound in my own room, with Paco leaning over me. His face was as white as the sheet that he clutched in his hands, and the expression of sheer terror in his eyes was beyond words.

  I must have still looked dazed, because he grabbed me again, trying desperately to shake me awake and his voice was trembling, in fact he seemed almost hysterical: “Ali, wake up! They took me again! I’m so scared! Please wake up!”

  Such was the depth of his fear that I really thought he was going to pass out right then and there. Still feeling dazed, nauseous, and almost ready to pass out myself from being pulled back so suddenly, I somehow extricated myself from the tangled bed clothes and put my arms around him, pulling him down beside me. I could feel him shaking from head to foot, and he grabbed hold of me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

  I eventually managed to extricate myself enough to place one hand on his head, which then enabled me to apply some Reiki. As this slowly took effect he loosened his stranglehold a little.

  “Paco, please calm down and tell me what’s wrong.” I spoke quietly but firmly, all the while keeping a hold on him to ensure a steady and continual flow of calming energy.

  Still trembling, he held his arm out to me, and for the first time I saw the blood soaking into his sleeve, and a clean but apparently quite deep cut in his forearm.

  “They took me again, tonight,” he gasped in horror, “and look what they did! Why can’t they leave me alone! What in the name of God do they want?”

  “Paco, try to calm down and tell me — who? Who took you, and where? What are you talking about?”

  “The aliens! The aliens, for God’s sake!” he cried, burying his face in his hands. I sat there staring at him, completely stunned.

  “Paco, are you sure?” I replied lamely, not quite knowing what to say or how to react.

  After a moment or two he took a deep breath, trying to settle himself. “Ali, that’s what is wrong, and why I’ve been acting so strange, and there is absolutely no one I can talk to about it except you, and I’m so scared! Sometimes I really think that I’m going crazy! Do you think I’ve gone crazy?”

  “Oh, Paco, no! Don’t be silly, of course I don’t! Look, please, just try to calm down and tell me exactly what’s happening.”

  He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a few moments, then took a deep breath before answering: “It all began about a year ago, not long after I came back here for Granny’s funeral. One night I was called out to attend to one of our parishioners who was dying. She was in a rural nursing home, so it was a fairly long, lonely drive, and on the way back to the presbytery something really strange happened.

  I left the hospital at about one in the morning, and should have been home easily by 2:00, but as I came in the door I happened to glance at the clock and it was almost 3:30. At first I thought the clock was fast or that it had stopped or something, but then I checked my watch, and it said 3:30 too. I checked every clock in the house, and they were all the same.

  I thought and thought, trying to remember anything unusual about the drive home, trying to work out what had happened to the missing hour and a half, but the weird thing was, I didn’t remember until the next day the strange light I’d seen in the sky. When I did recall it, I cou
ldn’t understand how I could possibly have forgotten. It seemed to be hovering over a paddock beside the road, and I stopped the car to get out for a closer look, then the next thing I remembered was driving into the church grounds. It was after that night that the dreams started — or really I should call them nightmares — of being taken on board an alien craft and subjected to the most awful examinations and probes.”

  “What do the aliens look like?” I asked, already knowing his answer.

  “Oh, Ali, they’re really strange! Small, sort of gray-colored beings with enormous black eyes. It’s those eyes that really get to me. It’s like you’re going to fall right in and disappear forever.” He shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

  “It happened three times in a row, and it got so that I dreaded answering the phone at night, in case I was called out again. I couldn’t stand the thought of having to drive alone after dark. Then it seemed to stop for a while, but now it’s all happening again! Oh, Ali, what in the name of God can I do? I can’t tell Father Keating. I have his trust and respect, but that won’t last long if I start telling him I’m being abducted by aliens. He’s the last person I can talk to about it, but I can tell he’s noticing that there’s something wrong with me. I’m so scared, and I just don’t know what to do!”

  “Paco, what happened tonight? Were you taken again?”

  “Oh, God, yes! I hoped I’d be safe here, away from the presbytery. I didn’t think they’d find me, but not long after I got into bed they came after me again, and there was nothing I could do. When they’re around it’s like I’m paralyzed, and I can only move the way they want me to.”

  “And what about your arm? What happened there?”

  “They cut me with some sort of sharp instrument, like a scalpel. I don’t know, maybe they took blood samples or something. They’ve done that before, and normally it seems to heal almost instantaneously, but tonight something happened. It was as if they were interrupted in the middle of the examination, and I was brought back really quickly. Normally I’m aware of being returned, but tonight I just woke suddenly and found myself back in bed.