I'll go into more detail about a bizarre experience.
Some of you may suggest that what follows was a dream, since it happened at night after I had fallen asleep. Very well, perhaps it was a dream. I don’t know for sure. I will say that it didn’t hit me like a dream. It seemed real in some way, like an old memory creeping into the mind.
In third grade, I lived in Yancey, TX. It’s a small town about 80 miles southwest of San Antonio. We rented a ranch house from a man who owned many acres. There were a few houses on that land spaced apart by what seemed like miles. The area was secluded.
One night, I awoke in my bed with the stereotypical blue light seeping in through the windows and doorway. Then I walked out of my room and towards the front door, where I met my parents and sister along the way, all three wearing what they had slept in.
Outside, on the grass in front of that country house, there was a silver object shaped like a tear-drop turned on its side, with the pointy end facing away from the house. It floated and sort of bobbled a bit, as I recall. We stared at the object like zombies. I remember trying to exert control over my body, trying to break the coercion but, for the most part, failing. All I could do was move my eyes in the direction of my family, who stood with mouths gaping at the object.
Next I remember sitting on a bench along the wall in the typical, white, circular room, with my parents to my left and my sister occupied some place else aboard the object. I don’t recall seeing any grays. I have seen grays before, but I think that those may have been sleep paralysis experiences.
Of my family members, for the longest time none of them claimed to remember anything about the above. Recently, however, my mother claimed to remember the blue light. This rekindled my interest in this event, long ago cast into the dreams basket. Still, perhaps my mother doesn't really remember the blue lights. Perhaps she's only saying that because she thinks that I want to believe it happened? Who knows, she's probably wierd enough in a motherly sort of way to do something like that.
The reason I’m sharing is because sometimes it feels a bit therapeutic to tell others who may be willing to listen to such a tale.
Here's another one.
Throughout a lot of my childhood, I had experiences like what Ritzmann describes from his childhood, though not to the same, incredible degree. I used to tell my parents that beings visited me in the night -- and they did, or so it seemed to me. Usually, they frightened me so much that I'd just pull the covers over my head and pray to God for them to go away. But I'd sit there all night, too afraid to pull the covers away for another look, not knowing if the prayers had worked.
One such night, I decided to pull the covers over my head without holding them down, sort of testing the entity, curious if it could move the covers away by itself. And it did, it pulled the covers away and laughed at me. Then I became even more terrified and pulled the covers down and held them tightly, praying for God's help.
Oftentimes, I would run away and sleep on the floor in my parents' room. This would upset my mother because she was always afraid of stepping on me in the middle of the night. She'd always put me back to sleep in my own room and tell me it was just a dream. But I was awake, goddamnit.
. 
