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Franz L Kessler

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Member Since: Apr, 2003

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Slumberland
by Tygo Lee

Magical tales—when our dreams and reality intertwine...  
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a thriller about UFOs, nightmares, and politics.

They were back, again. A weak vibration shook the open window screens, and the branches of our old apple tree that grew against the wall and brushed the window’s edges at my second-floor bedroom. A low-frequent buzz, then another eerie ripple ran through the house. The apples on the garden-tree jostled.

In the darkness of my room, I felt my heart beating strongly. Through the open window I saw the flying saucer approaching, a gleaming grey titanium-metallic silver fish, basking in a corolla white diffuse light and red-and-blue lights flashing on its top, not unlike a police car. Dark sounds were heard and echoed, as if somebody was speaking on a noisy hand-phone and exchanging information.

From the distance, another UFO was seen closing-in, and the two alien objects hovered now above our garden in an uneasy silence. Moving gently back and forth I could feel they where searching for something, and as soon as that idea struck my mind, a dazzling white laser search ray flashed through the window into my bedroom whilst I tried to hide behind a chair as well as I could.

I watched the radiant search ray slowly move over all my objects and possessions, slowly and patiently, with the cold determination of a Nazi executioner, identifying all and everything, in small rectangular scanner steps as if the sharp ray was reading a binary code.

The situation became unbearable for me. Sooner or later the evil ray would see and destroy me. I prayed to the lama, spoke his mantra of protection, and, as soon as I did, Grandpa’s shaving mirror fell it my hand. Slowly, the searching light struck the chair, and I was still hiding behind. Then I jumped up, orientated the mirror such that the mirror bounced the ray back to the UFO, and caught the ray at the right moment. As it flashed back it hit the Ufo right in the middle, and I saw it exploding in a cloud of light and low-frequent sounds.

Covered by sweat, I woke up. It had been a hot night. I walked to the balcony. The full moon shone from the zenith and made the South China Sea that lay in the distance sparkle. It was July 2004. I had left the United States for professional reasons, after witnessing the intellectual fall of America, my host country for a couple of years. She had been dragged and sunken into a bottomless swamp of lies, ignorance and false pride, ever since the petty Bush had taken control.

As things turned for the worse, my writing became more provocative and political, and I feared for speaking up. Eventually, I felt happy to start a new life in a different world, far away down in the tropics, far away from 9/11, Iraq and the evil uncle Fester VP.

As a gentle breeze rippled through a row of trees, and grasslands to the West, I couldn’t forget the UFO nightmare. This wasn’t an ordinary dream. There was more to it. I knew it.

A long time ago, I had followed a BBC documentary about UFOs. For some odd reason, the documentary had stopped after a few sequels (I also heard that it had been aborted following political pressure, but who can tell me the true story?)

In brief, as far as I could remember, the BBC documentary emphasized that UFOs belonged to the world of mental phenomena, rather than pinpointing the unlikely case of aliens visiting Earth.

According to the mentioned documentary, these mental phenomena originated from cold-war spying and "black-world" activities, particularly in the realm of "nuclear security," a modern word often chosen as a synonym of repression.

Somehow the American and Russian spy masters had learned, after studying conventional black magic, how to penetrate other people’s minds securely from any given distance. In such ways they could detect any nuclear and other conspiracy, uncover certain secrets and watch the enemy.

But whenever this was done, something unexpected seemed to happen, too: At the mental interfaces visual phenomena occurred, that nobody had expected- such as gray little men, or flying saucers. This was nothing but our brain’s, our subconscious memory’s reaction to such kind of dark, and unfriendly mental intrusions. Obviously, the myth of aliens served as an ideal cover-up, and helped to draw attention away from what really happened.

As another gentle breeze blew over the balcony as I walked back, and lay on my bed. Had I been placed on a telepathic watch list? Perhaps somebody had tried to invade, infiltrate or destroy my personality, in ways not really different from the usual, traditional and home-grown Borneo magic? I may never know, given our mind is a highly volatile and complex beast, and it can play all kind of funny tricks.

Be it as it may, I thanked the lama, who had protected me. The mantra I spoke within the dream produced an effect, and this is what counted for me most. My spiritual firewall had potentially thwarted off an attack, this time. In the next dream, so I promised to myself, I would shoot down the other UFO, too.

© 2007 by Franz L Kessler





 

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Reviewed by Gerald Zollar 2/5/2008
low-frequent sounds (low frequency) ?
Not sure about the point of the story. Was it a dream or dellusion?
The title caught my interest but the story did not.
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 10/8/2007
Riveting story, Franz; well done! BRAVO!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :)

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