The following is a selection from Section One, Chapter One of the book Eminent Discovery – Volume 1. It represents one of the few UFO encounters I never forgot. It also is one of the few I experienced alone. It should give you a feel about the mysterious nature of the encounters and give you insight, in some detail, concerning a “loss-of-time.”
Foster’s Law: Truth and understanding are relative to the fullness of one’s own being. And the fullness of one’s being is relative to the perception of his or her experience.
Yet, I am only all that I remember, consciously and subconsciously – my conscious becoming my subconscious through the passage of time.
But, by vital necessity I can unveil my subconscious through the intensity of my own will.
I have done this and found I am much, much more than I had previously remembered.
(And I know you are too – much more than you can now remember.)
Chapter One Windows Of Recollection
I could always remember my bizarre 1956 experience with the horses.
This wonderful Wyoming Sunday afternoon, I felt alone.
Walking up the beautiful mountain valley to fetch the horses, I felt strange. I suddenly became frightened, but knew the importance of corralling the normally gentle beasts for the purpose of skidding logs down the mountain come morning.
These dogged mixed breed horses seemed very intelligent; most often, it only took my verbal commands to control them. I considered them friends; when we worked together I sometimes gave them commands through my mind and they seemed to obey. I sometimes talked to them through my mind and at times I thought I felt their emotions and heard what they had to say.
Away from college at the University of Nebraska, my friend Don and I worked at a remote logging camp in the wilderness, up the East Fork of the Wind River. We normally turned the horses loose in the large, box-like valley during the weekends. Sunday afternoon, I had to go get them.
For some reason this particular evening, when I spotted them, they responded as unruly as their wild brothers and sisters over on Spring Mountain west of us.
I chased them to the upper end of the valley, but they suddenly turned and ran down the valley at full speed, flinging up mud clods with their shod hoofs. This seemed somewhat peculiar; they normally headed for the stable when they saw me. Neither my verbal nor mental commands seemed to affect them. I followed them.
The sun just began to fall behind the mountain peaks. Making my way through thick brush and darkened groves of trees, I felt a mysterious presence near me. I couldn’t see too well in places, looked over my shoulder and walked backward from time to time to see if someone or something followed me.
Running and stumbling a mile or so, I found the horses grazing gently in an open meadow. Carefully approaching them, I felt an intense emotion fill my body. I didn’t know why, but I became even more afraid. Then some awesome presence drew my eyes toward the mountains west of me.
Watching the soft orange sky, I suddenly saw the most brilliant light I had ever seen; it hovered in front of the mountain peaks. My heart suddenly exploded in coronary arrhythmias – I fell to my knees while rivers of tears washed my cheeks.
For an unknown time, a strange force pierced my body and soul. I could hardly breath, but continued weeping uncontrollably.
After a while I found myself trembling; I saw no light and regained my strength. I thought I had seen the face of God, but couldn’t endure it. I climbed up on Old Bull, the biggest of the horses, and we all rushed through the thick black air of hell until we reached the stable – then all was well.
My boss greeted me when we arrived. It seemed very late. After I explained, he told me, “Even considering the chase, you must have lost a lot of time.”
Remembering this experience in early 1986, some 30 years later, still sent shivers up and down my spine; I had never felt so close to the horses. During our spirited run back to the stable, the night air was so black, I couldn’t even see Old Bull’s head. As we raced on, tree branches suddenly hit my body and face from time to time; we jumped over small ravines and forged the East Fork River. Our roles had been reversed: The horses were in control and I could see nothing or do anything about it. I knew if I let go or fell off, I would surely die. I had been lucky to reach the stable.
Over the years, I had learned many things from this experience, but couldn’t always rationalize them in my mind. And the brilliant light and loss of time had always puzzled me. It had been such a significant event in my life, I had told my wife, Annie, and our three children about it.
And I could always remember the strange lights and weird sounds at my bedroom window, when I was very young.