I started watching the show Ancient Aliens when I was around ten. I had always been interested in that kind of stuff, even though I knew it wasn’t real. What especially intrigued me were the greys–the small skinny beings with large heads and giant black eyes. The episode on them was my favorite, and I can’t recall how many times I rewatched it. I based some school projects on them. I drew them in art class, and for a “Design-an-Alien” science project. I also wrote an English essay on the Betty and Barney Hill abduction. My parents thought my obsession was strange, but nonetheless praised me for my creativity.
My YouTube history consisted of scenes from movies like Communion, Fire in the Sky, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and V/H/S/2. However, there would be times where I felt discomfort and paranoia when I saw images or videos of the greys. My curiosity would outweigh my fear and I would continue watching. Occasionally, my anxiety spiked at night, and I would lie awake ruminating about if I was going to be abducted. That never did happen, and those intrusive thoughts waned.
I watched Extraordinary: The Stan Romanek Story when I was thirteen. I was captivated and creeped out by the supposed photos and footage of the greys, but it wasn’t that which stood out to me. Romanek stated that he would often wake up with unexplained marks on his body, like bruises and cuts. I couldn’t count how many times I’d found a bruise I couldn’t explain–usually on my upper arms and thighs. The connection was in my mind for a second, but was quickly dismissed. As I got older, my interest in the greys faded, and they rarely occupied my thoughts.
That changed recently.
I’m now eighteen, about to turn nineteen, and am a freshman in university. The dreams started a few months ago. I can’t remember every aspect about them, but there is always a grey’s face a few inches from my own. I am unable to break eye contact, and continue staring at my reflection in those limpid black pools. The next thing I recall is waking up between 3-4 AM. A few times, I swear I’ve seen a flicker of movement in my room at night as I’m falling asleep, and I’ve heard a faint, even humming noise outside the past few nights. I’m choosing to interpret the dreams as just those random repetitive nightmares you get, and the movement and the sound as just a trick of the senses.
The dream I had last night rocked me to my core. I was facing the wall in bed, and turned over, trying to get comfortable. A grey was standing a foot from me; it was about three-and-a-half feet tall, and naked. I wanted to hit it, to scream, but I was paralyzed, either from shock or the alien’s own doing. It reached a long, skeletal arm out and pressed its fingers against the left side of my neck, as if it was checking for my pulse. Its hand had a thumb and was humanoid, but there were three fingers instead of four, and they were all impossibly long.
This morning, I woke up to my alarm beeping, with a headache and a strange sinking feeling in my stomach. I dismissed that as a fluke, and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
In the mirror, I saw an odd marking on my neck. I assumed it to just be pillow lines, and laughed as I leaned in for a closer look.
The synapses in my brain fired overtime as I realized it was a three-fingered handprint. I can’t explain how, but I know I will have more tomorrow.