Close Physical Contact: Two Episodes I Still Don’t Fully Understand

Blog Post Five

There are moments in life that leave a mark — not just on the body, but on the mind. Two such moments will stay with me for the rest of my years. They were close, direct encounters with something I still struggle to explain. Both involved direct physical contact. Both involved the taking of biological material. And both involved a kind of missing time, or at least a gap in memory that feels deliberate. I call it a memory wipe, but the ETs argue the point on that one. I think that’s a technicality.

I’ve written about the first event in Meet the Aliens, but perhaps not in a way that captures the seriousness of what they both were: the taking of a tissue sample from my left calf, and the taking of a semen sample.

These weren’t dreams or vague impressions. They were physical events with physical evidence — and they were carried out without my permission. And that’s what still sits quite heavily with me, because I wonder what else has occurred without my permission or recall.

How do I know? Because I asked them and they confirmed it. And there were breadcrumbs.

Let’s touch on the physical evidence.

For the first event, the tissue sample, I discovered a raised lump on my left calf, like a small, raised doughnut of swelling around an incision, and there was a smear of dried blood on my right hip.

For the second event, I distinctly felt the pressure of two hands on my back as I lay on my bed, that pushed me sideways a foot or so. This occurred while I was in a state something akin to sleep paralysis, and I was not asleep. I knew this because I was trying to gesticulate to someone in a manner to convey my obvious disapproval. Yes, that’s right, I was flipping them the bird. I was giving the ETs the one-fingered salute.

But I didn’t know why at the time. I remember it clearly but didn’t know why I was pissed off. So this seemed to be my subconscious reacting, I assume, while I was being manipulated like a life-sized marionette.

The Tissue Sample

The first incident was the calf incision. Let’s revisit.

I woke to find a small puncture mark and a smear of blood. No memory of how it happened. No pain. No noise in the night or disturbance to the dogs. Just the evidence discovered later.

When I asked about it later the answer was simple and direct: Yes, it was a biological sample. No, not an implant.

They weren’t evasive or cryptic. They were honest and clear, but only after the fact.

And that’s where the tension lies: the honesty came post‑event, not pre‑event. The consent was assumed, not given. Or not even a consideration at all.

The Semen Sample

The second incident was stranger, more intimate, and more confronting.

As I said, I was in a state that felt like sleep paralysis — aware but unable to move. I distinctly felt two hands on my back, pushing me away for some reason as I lay there. Not violently, but firmly. Purposefully. I’m a bit over 90kg so they were quite strong.

And something in me reacted.

My conscious mind didn’t know what was happening. But my subconscious apparently did. It was annoyed — even angry — at something I have no memory of. I found myself gesturing, or trying to gesture, with distinct displeasure, as if signalling to someone in the room. As if objecting to something I couldn’t consciously perceive.

Why did these events occur? I don’t know. And the answer is probably complex.

Later, when I asked about the incident, the response was honest, but again, only after the event.

Through questioning, apparently, I was the one who let them in — probably through the back door. That detail still unsettles me. It suggests a kind of cooperation without awareness. A kind of permission given in a state I don’t fully understand. So, if I was being remote controlled — marched about the house like a battery powered toy robot — what were the dogs doing during this time? I don’t recall any barking. Thanks, dogs. A cat walks past outside the window and they’re outraged; ETs come in through the back door at midnight and they probably roll over for a tummy tickle.

The Deception Problem

Both incidents share a common thread: they were carried out without my informed consent.

Not maliciously, perhaps. Not violently. But I think still deceptively.

Was it for my own good and I don’t realise it?

There is a difference between secrecy and deception. Secrecy hides the act. Deception hides the meaning of the act. In this case, I think it’s a little bit from column A, a little bit from column B.

In both episodes, the truth only came later — when I asked the right questions, in the right way, through the protocol I’ve come to understand. Am I just being naïve in my concern with this issue? After all, what did I expect — a formal briefing, a knock at the door, a permission slip? Maybe not. Still, the concern remains, because I think consent matters even when the circumstances are extraordinary.

And that raises difficult questions about autonomy, boundaries, and the ethics of contact. Is this just the way that they do things and should I just accept it? Because what else can I do?

Am I overthinking it? When we need a biological sample from a cow, we don’t ask for permission, do we? Likewise, when we insert a chip into our dogs. Nobody asks them if they mind. Does that say interesting things about how humans are viewed by aliens? Or are they just getting the job done? Being efficient?

Missing Time, Memory Gaps, and the Subconscious

The missing time element is subtle. It’s not a blackout with full Hollywood drama. I still remembered my name when I woke up. For me it was more like a short gap — a discontinuity for reasons of efficiency. They probably don’t want to muck around when they’re down here. It’s probably quite dangerous, so in their minds a quick sample is a good sample. And that indicates that there was a good reason to do this.

So it was a moment where awareness was switched off, or bypassed, or simply not recorded. When I asked them about it they said it wasn’t a memory wipe, but like I said, I think they’re being a bit pedantic. Okay, fine, but it’s related, right? There wasn’t recall.

The subconscious reaction during the second incident is what troubles me most. It suggests that some part of me did know what was happening and objected. Some part of me clearly tried to communicate displeasure during a state of induced paralysis and I remembered it.

The conscious mind was left out of the loop but part of me knew what was going on. Me remembering a segment like that makes me wonder if there was a hitch in the deleted memory process. Did someone just screw up — did a half-arsed job — or did a third party intervene so that I would remember a segment of the process? Because they have done this before — manipulate my consciousness so that I was made aware of something, like a little clue or a breadcrumb when something is being demonstrated. It was done when I heard my daughter’s thoughts one time as she had a telepathic conversation with someone else while her physical body was asleep. That’s a big topic — one for a different post but you can read about it in the book!

Right. That’s all pretty hard to sit with.

Where I Stand Now

I’m not writing this to dramatise the events, or even to claim certainty about what happened. I’m writing it because these experiences were real to me, and they deserve to be acknowledged with seriousness, honesty, and reflection. And if they’re happening to me, then they could be happening to others, because I’m sure I’m not the only one experiencing this. Maybe this post will jog some memories out there.

I don’t know why these events occurred the way they did, why consent wasn’t sought, but maybe my subconscious objection is a clue. I don’t know why memory was bypassed, or why my subconscious reacted with such irritation. But I think it’s just the accepted way they do things like this. They’ve probably been following a well-established protocol much like a vet would when operating on an animal in their surgery. It’s just how they do it.

But I do know this: I’m still trying to understand it. I’m still asking questions. And I’m still committed to exploring these experiences with clarity, honesty, and caution.

Some truths take time to surface. Some truths require patience. And some — especially the ones involving close contact — demand that we keep at it.

I intend to.