One thing that never lets go is the memory of my first meeting with Raechel. Even as I write this, the scene unfolds
before my eyes, as it always does, and every time it’s always exactly the same. Nothing has changed in the more than
30 years since that seemingly innocent scenario with Marisa and Raechel on a warm summer evening in 1972. I still
remember what each of us was wearing, where we stood, what we said. The moment I recall it, a portal opens to this
vivid segment of the past and I instantly step through, again a participant.
I’d stopped by to visit my daughter Marisa. I was also hoping to meet her unusual roommate Raechel. The two were
college students and had been living together only a short while. Marisa had already mentioned several bizarre things
concerning Raechel and my interest was piqued, but it turned out Raechel wasn’t home yet from a late class.
As I was about to leave, standing in the open doorway, saying goodbye to Marisa, we heard Raechel’s footsteps
coming up the stairs. Passing between us, she paused only long enough for Marisa to introduce us, then continued to
her room to retrieve class notes she said she’d forgotten.
As she returned, something happened…the beginning of my awareness that Raechel was not an “ordinary” person.
Even the manner of her participation in the introduction, with her measured, mechanical-sounding speech, was in
itself a “red flag” that signified all was not what it seemed to be. Actually very little of what occurred during the next
few minutes was what it seemed to be. Or, perhaps I should say, it was far more than it seemed to be….
before my eyes, as it always does, and every time it’s always exactly the same. Nothing has changed in the more than
30 years since that seemingly innocent scenario with Marisa and Raechel on a warm summer evening in 1972. I still
remember what each of us was wearing, where we stood, what we said. The moment I recall it, a portal opens to this
vivid segment of the past and I instantly step through, again a participant.
I’d stopped by to visit my daughter Marisa. I was also hoping to meet her unusual roommate Raechel. The two were
college students and had been living together only a short while. Marisa had already mentioned several bizarre things
concerning Raechel and my interest was piqued, but it turned out Raechel wasn’t home yet from a late class.
As I was about to leave, standing in the open doorway, saying goodbye to Marisa, we heard Raechel’s footsteps
coming up the stairs. Passing between us, she paused only long enough for Marisa to introduce us, then continued to
her room to retrieve class notes she said she’d forgotten.
As she returned, something happened…the beginning of my awareness that Raechel was not an “ordinary” person.
Even the manner of her participation in the introduction, with her measured, mechanical-sounding speech, was in
itself a “red flag” that signified all was not what it seemed to be. Actually very little of what occurred during the next
few minutes was what it seemed to be. Or, perhaps I should say, it was far more than it seemed to be….
REFLECTIONS FROM “RAECHEL'S EYES” by Helen Littrell
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ABSTRACT
Helen Littrell describes her first meeting with Raechel; an event etched into her mind. Raechel was her daughter
Marisa’s college roommate in the 70s. When her daughter passed away suddenly in 1990, the author felt it was her
duty to record the story in the book, Raechel’s Eyes (2005). This article describes the journey of writing that book
about Raechel, a hybrid human-alien being.
Helen Littrell describes her first meeting with Raechel; an event etched into her mind. Raechel was her daughter
Marisa’s college roommate in the 70s. When her daughter passed away suddenly in 1990, the author felt it was her
duty to record the story in the book, Raechel’s Eyes (2005). This article describes the journey of writing that book
about Raechel, a hybrid human-alien being.
HELEN LITTRELL is the
author of the immensely
popular book Raechel’s
Eyes, published in 2005
by Wildflower Press
(www.5thworld.com). The
book is the true and
mysterious story of the
relationship between
Raechel, a human-alien
hybrid, Helen, and Helen’
s daughter Marisa. Helen
works in the field of
medical transcribing and
medical terminology and
she is the author of six
medical terminology
books that have been
distributed worldwide. She
makes her home in
southern Oregon.
author of the immensely
popular book Raechel’s
Eyes, published in 2005
by Wildflower Press
(www.5thworld.com). The
book is the true and
mysterious story of the
relationship between
Raechel, a human-alien
hybrid, Helen, and Helen’
s daughter Marisa. Helen
works in the field of
medical transcribing and
medical terminology and
she is the author of six
medical terminology
books that have been
distributed worldwide. She
makes her home in
southern Oregon.
The Journal of Frontier
Science is looking for
intelligent, informed,
talented Writer-
Researchers in the
fields of:
furthering the study of
Ufology.
JFS is an excellent
format for publishing
your own research for
peer review and
education purposes.
See the Submissions
page for information!
Science is looking for
intelligent, informed,
talented Writer-
Researchers in the
fields of:
- Ufology
- The Paranormal
- Cryptozoology
- Parapsychology
- Etc.
furthering the study of
Ufology.
JFS is an excellent
format for publishing
your own research for
peer review and
education purposes.
See the Submissions
page for information!
| Copyright © 2009 JFS |
Meeting Raechel for the First Time
Raechel returns through the living room, and heads toward
the doorway where Marisa and I are still making small talk.
Just before reaching the doorway she trips on the carpet
and loses her balance. Making no effort whatsoever to catch
herself, her body ramrod straight, she falls forward still
clutching the papers in her right hand.
It looks as though she is going to land flat on her face so I
reach out to save her. I turn slightly to my right, take a
couple of steps toward her, and grab her left arm with my
right hand. The sleeve of her long-sleeved jumpsuit slides
up and I am holding firmly onto her left forearm. I return her
body to an upright position. My fingers are grasping skin I
immediately realize with shock is not regular skin, not human
skin. It has a cool, spongy feel to it. It reminds me of the
way mushrooms feel.
Raechel returns through the living room, and heads toward
the doorway where Marisa and I are still making small talk.
Just before reaching the doorway she trips on the carpet
and loses her balance. Making no effort whatsoever to catch
herself, her body ramrod straight, she falls forward still
clutching the papers in her right hand.
It looks as though she is going to land flat on her face so I
reach out to save her. I turn slightly to my right, take a
couple of steps toward her, and grab her left arm with my
right hand. The sleeve of her long-sleeved jumpsuit slides
up and I am holding firmly onto her left forearm. I return her
body to an upright position. My fingers are grasping skin I
immediately realize with shock is not regular skin, not human
skin. It has a cool, spongy feel to it. It reminds me of the
way mushrooms feel.
A sudden flash of memory reminds me of my doll, Beverly, a Christmas gift from my aunt many years ago when I was
six. Her skin was advertised to feel “nearly human, you can hardly tell the difference.” The skin on Raechel’s arm does
not feel human, and I can tell the difference.
I continue to steady her for a moment, at the same time noticing the large, dark, wraparound sunglasses that she is
wearing have slipped down almost to the tip of her tiny nose. I am now very close to Raechel’s face, looking straight
into huge, rounded eyes that extend clear around to the sides of her temples—huge green eyes the color of the
inside of an avocado, with vertical black slits and no pupils. My eyes hold hers and I am mesmerized. Then I realize I’m
staring, so I break the gaze, look away momentarily, and release my hold on her arm since she has regained her
balance.
She thanks me in a mechanical voice and leaves hastily. I am confused by what I have seen, no longer able to say
goodbye to Marisa and go home as I had planned. I know I have seen something not of this world and I am stunned.
Briefly, when I first looked into those eyes, I was frightened, but now the fear is gone. Yet my mind is racing, with my
emotions going every which way. I’ve never felt like this before.
Marisa suggests I sit down, says she has something important to tell me. I agree, since I’m in no condition to drive
home. Marisa doesn’t appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but she’s only partially-sighted. Maybe
that’s the reason. Somehow, though, I think there’s more to it than that.
Memory of Daughter Marisa Spurs Me On
The events related above are exactly what I’d always remembered, before hypnosis, before I did the digging that was
involved in writing the book Raechel’s Eyes. The memories had remained stationary for 30 years. I’d dealt with their
strangeness by keeping them “locked in a little box” in my mind. Whenever I chose to take them out, which was not
often, I felt safe in the knowledge that they could at any time be put back in the little box and locked up until I might
choose to deal with them again.
It is now three years since Raechel’s Eyes was published. The book is the story of the events my daughter, Marisa,
and I experienced with her college roommate, Raechel, a hybrid human-alien being, and with Raechel’s human
adoptive father, Air Force Col. Nadien. It is also the story of my dawning realization that I had a hidden history as an
abductee, and the mystery of what might be the interrelationship between that and the strange events involving
Raechel.
Ever since 1972 I’d struggled with the question of whether I should go public with the story of Raechel. Then, in
1990, Marisa passed away suddenly from complications of diabetes. During the grieving process the story was
constantly on my mind. It became evident the fear and apprehension that had plagued me all those years was
something I needed to face. And I needed to do it now. I hoped the process of writing a book would help me through
my grief. Besides, it was something Marisa and I had planned to do—someday.
Writing a book seemed overwhelming, but I began it in tiny increments. Recalling one incident at a time, bit by bit it
began to come together. Always, however, was the nagging feeling that everything I knew about Raechel was only
the tip of an iceberg. If only I could recall more, I thought, the story would make more sense. To make matters
worse, Raechel was a subject I had never been able to easily discuss with anyone but Marisa.
Now, Marisa was gone, and it was up to me. There was a little saying she used frequently that seemed appropriate
now: “Whatever it takes!” That’s what she had always said.
Could Regressive Hypnosis Help Me Recover My Memories?
I had heard regression hypnosis could be useful in helping to recover memories. Would hypnosis help me fill in the
gaps in the bits and pieces of information that periodically floated to the surface?
In early 1998, a colleague contacted June Steiner, PhD, and she graciously agreed to conduct several regressions with
me in what she considered a fascinating case of possible human-alien contact, one of the areas in which she
specializes.
At first a bit apprehensive about meeting June and undergoing regression, I ultimately decided that whatever I might
discover couldn’t be more frightening or bizarre than what I already knew. Any remaining doubts were laid to rest the
moment I met June, and her husband, who accompanied her to our first long weekend of several sessions.
Although the memories evoked during the regressions were stressful, most difficult of all was transcribing the taped
regression sessions. Under hypnosis, I’d been in a trancelike state which cushioned the reliving of each event.
However, as I transcribed the tapes, I was fully awake and aware, listening carefully in order to correctly capture each
word and nuance, hearing the raw emotion in my voice as well as June’s. Frequently, tears streamed down my face
until I could barely see. When this happened, I simply stopped for a few moments, listened to some calming music,
had a cup of tea, and resumed transcribing. Looking back, I realize the truth of what a friend told me a few months
ago. Reliving all the original events, bizarre as they were, had been good for me. I’d come out the other side
unharmed, a much stronger, better person.
The Book Is Released—Worries Vanish as Support Grows
Once the book came out, my concerns were how it would be received and, more importantly, how I might be
perceived. I have been a medical transcriptionist for many years. Would my clients now find me too controversial to
do business with? Would my friends decide I was too “far out” for them? Would I begin receiving hate mail and
threatening letters?
These worries vanished as the emails and phone calls arrived. Many were from readers who were fellow abductees and
experiencers. Often, this was the first time they had dared to speak about their experiences, stating they’d never felt
comfortable or safe in doing so. I understood the courage it took to contact me, a complete stranger, and I knew
only too well the fear and reticence connected with stepping forth. Fortunately, they were not seeking advice, because
I had none to offer. They simply wanted a compassionate listener, and they found one in me.
I now saw that Raechel’s Eyes had become an instrument of comfort and hope to many, and I knew that going public
was the right thing to do after all.
Details Emerge Under Hypnosis
The first regression took me back to my initial meeting with Raechel in the apartment. June began by assuring me I
was safe. Next she moved me back through time to the moment I first met Raechel. I relived the whole event in
minute detail, down to the actual conversation with Marisa as we stood in the doorway saying goodbye, both of us
wishing I could have met Raechel. When Raechel appeared, I described her in detail…the “big glasses, the scarf tied
around her head and under her chin, her face extraordinarily small,” the light blue color of her long-sleeved, one-piece
jumpsuit, her somewhat awkward body build, and her general “funny-looking” appearance. I re-experienced the
queasy sensation I’d felt as she stood in front of me and I stared at her, powerfully compelled to keep looking at her
huge, riveting eyes.
June next asked what Raechel’s hands looked like. Nausea kicked in as I described them as “not right.” I distinctly saw
her hands as somehow artificial in appearance with only four fingers all the same length on each hand, and no
fingernails. I’m again feeling that peculiar queasy feeling as I write this.
The session continued and I heard Raechel’s mechanical, expressionless voice speaking words during our introduction
in a tone of voice that also was “not right,” although her words were entirely appropriate. At that point I began
sobbing, but June once again comforted me, and in a few moments we continued.
Next we moved to the incident where Raechel tripped and I caught her. Now my feelings changed. I found myself
staring deep into her huge, avocado-green eyes, mesmerized by the vertical black slits, initially terrified. I felt the slits
themselves were pulling me deep inside them, and I felt from her a desperate effort to communicate something she
was unable or unwilling to verbalize. Now my fear vanished. I realized Raechel was the one terrified. She was
attempting to communicate telepathically that she meant no harm to me and hoped I meant none to her. My stare
still unbroken but the apprehension gone, I then appreciated the real beauty of Raechel’s eyes as they pulled me so
deeply into them, beauty I hadn’t realized existed until now.
Following a full weekend of regressions wherein I revisited familiar and not-so-familiar places and different dimensions,
my head was crammed full of details that had to be assimilated. Relief accompanied the realization that at last I was
aware of some of the details buried so many years. I also learned that the reason I couldn’t fully remember them
previously was that I’d been programmed not to recall them until the time was right. And that may have been a good
thing, because during the period in 1972 when these events had taken place, I believe I wouldn’t have been able to
handle them emotionally.
Another thing. At least now I knew the events had actually occurred—no more of the old, at best fuzzy, recall up to a
certain point, followed by the old familiar brick wall. I was no longer fearful of what might have happened. Now I knew
what really took place.
A Transformational Experience
After 30 years, my life was finally beginning to make sense, at least to me. And nothing would ever again be the
same, and neither would I. There was also a sense of knowing that although many answers had been provided, many
had not. But, perhaps there was no need for that.
Bringing Raechel’s Eyes to the public has provided the means to create dramatic, positive changes in how I feel, how I
think, how I act, and most importantly, who I am. It has opened portals I never dreamed existed, guided me to
worlds I could only have imagined, and allowed me to participate in experiences still hard for me to comprehend. The
word “portals” is significant to me because one event during the summer of 1972 was neither a doorway nor a
window, at least not as we know it, although it was an entranceway.
A dramatic episode revealed under hypnosis occurred on another afternoon when I stopped by Marisa’s apartment.
Marisa was still at class. Raechel, however, was present and she immediately initiated an intense dialogue,
emphasizing she wished I were her mother. I responded that there was no way I could be, but I’d love to be her
friend. Apparently not satisfied, she restated her wish, adding that she wanted to show me the place where she’d
been raised.
Raechel Takes Me on an Unforgettable Visit
At this point I remember standing in the kitchen leaning against a porcelain-topped kitchen table with my left hand on
the edge of the table top. The apartment was hot and stuffy in the early summer heat, and the cool porcelain felt
good. I distinctly recall that pleasant sensation on my hand even as I’m writing this. Raechel stood approximately five
feet from me, in front of the refrigerator, at the side of which were lined up several large, clear jugs containing her
drinking liquid, the only fluid she was allowed to consume. As she stared intently at me, I felt pulled into those vertical
black slits in her huge, avocado-green eyes.
Suddenly I found myself standing in a large, oval, white-walled enclosure where windows surrounded an inner,
smaller, oval-shaped room. I was on the outside of the windows while Raechel was on the inside. She instructed me
to come inside with her, and I responded that I couldn’t; there was no doorway. She replied I didn’t need a door, that
I should place the palm of my hand on the window in front of me, that she would place hers in the same location on
the inside, and that I could then come through. I did as she asked and almost instantly found myself in the inner
room beside her.
I clearly recall the uneasy sensation of passing through the glass. My body felt elongated and wavy as I passed
through, similar to ripples created when one tosses a pebble into a pool. On finding myself inside the windows,
standing beside Raechel, I was instantly back into my normal body.
Several extremely bizarre, unsettling events occurred once Raechel showed me what was inside the oval-windowed
room, events that, as I relived them during regressions, were very emotionally disturbing, and continue to be.
Next, I was back in the kitchen, still leaning against the table, my left hand still in its position on the cool porcelain.
Raechel was where she had been, near the refrigerator, facing me, but no longer staring at me. And Marisa still had
not returned. I said goodbye and quickly left.
My outlook on life changed drastically from that moment. I may never know all the reasons Raechel took me to that
room inside the windows, although I have my own ideas and they will forever haunt me. Of one thing I am sure. On
that summer afternoon I journeyed through a portal to another dimension with her, to the place she called home.
During one of the regressions in 1998, when I dealt with this event, I discovered it was a turning point in my life. In
that most bizarre of all places I learned clearly from Raechel what my mission was to be and, in the course of writing
Raechel’s Eyes, I have accomplished it. The whole experience has given me the incentive and ability to “be who I am.”
As a result, I’m able to lend strength and courage to other experiencers by listening quietly as they relate details of
abductions, sightings, contacts, whatever disturbing memories they choose to share. I have no suggestions, no
answers, nor am I sure there are any. What I do have to offer is a sympathetic ear, and perhaps most importantly,
compassion, which may be the greatest gift I, in turn, have received from Raechel’s Eyes.
six. Her skin was advertised to feel “nearly human, you can hardly tell the difference.” The skin on Raechel’s arm does
not feel human, and I can tell the difference.
I continue to steady her for a moment, at the same time noticing the large, dark, wraparound sunglasses that she is
wearing have slipped down almost to the tip of her tiny nose. I am now very close to Raechel’s face, looking straight
into huge, rounded eyes that extend clear around to the sides of her temples—huge green eyes the color of the
inside of an avocado, with vertical black slits and no pupils. My eyes hold hers and I am mesmerized. Then I realize I’m
staring, so I break the gaze, look away momentarily, and release my hold on her arm since she has regained her
balance.
She thanks me in a mechanical voice and leaves hastily. I am confused by what I have seen, no longer able to say
goodbye to Marisa and go home as I had planned. I know I have seen something not of this world and I am stunned.
Briefly, when I first looked into those eyes, I was frightened, but now the fear is gone. Yet my mind is racing, with my
emotions going every which way. I’ve never felt like this before.
Marisa suggests I sit down, says she has something important to tell me. I agree, since I’m in no condition to drive
home. Marisa doesn’t appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but she’s only partially-sighted. Maybe
that’s the reason. Somehow, though, I think there’s more to it than that.
Memory of Daughter Marisa Spurs Me On
The events related above are exactly what I’d always remembered, before hypnosis, before I did the digging that was
involved in writing the book Raechel’s Eyes. The memories had remained stationary for 30 years. I’d dealt with their
strangeness by keeping them “locked in a little box” in my mind. Whenever I chose to take them out, which was not
often, I felt safe in the knowledge that they could at any time be put back in the little box and locked up until I might
choose to deal with them again.
It is now three years since Raechel’s Eyes was published. The book is the story of the events my daughter, Marisa,
and I experienced with her college roommate, Raechel, a hybrid human-alien being, and with Raechel’s human
adoptive father, Air Force Col. Nadien. It is also the story of my dawning realization that I had a hidden history as an
abductee, and the mystery of what might be the interrelationship between that and the strange events involving
Raechel.
Ever since 1972 I’d struggled with the question of whether I should go public with the story of Raechel. Then, in
1990, Marisa passed away suddenly from complications of diabetes. During the grieving process the story was
constantly on my mind. It became evident the fear and apprehension that had plagued me all those years was
something I needed to face. And I needed to do it now. I hoped the process of writing a book would help me through
my grief. Besides, it was something Marisa and I had planned to do—someday.
Writing a book seemed overwhelming, but I began it in tiny increments. Recalling one incident at a time, bit by bit it
began to come together. Always, however, was the nagging feeling that everything I knew about Raechel was only
the tip of an iceberg. If only I could recall more, I thought, the story would make more sense. To make matters
worse, Raechel was a subject I had never been able to easily discuss with anyone but Marisa.
Now, Marisa was gone, and it was up to me. There was a little saying she used frequently that seemed appropriate
now: “Whatever it takes!” That’s what she had always said.
Could Regressive Hypnosis Help Me Recover My Memories?
I had heard regression hypnosis could be useful in helping to recover memories. Would hypnosis help me fill in the
gaps in the bits and pieces of information that periodically floated to the surface?
In early 1998, a colleague contacted June Steiner, PhD, and she graciously agreed to conduct several regressions with
me in what she considered a fascinating case of possible human-alien contact, one of the areas in which she
specializes.
At first a bit apprehensive about meeting June and undergoing regression, I ultimately decided that whatever I might
discover couldn’t be more frightening or bizarre than what I already knew. Any remaining doubts were laid to rest the
moment I met June, and her husband, who accompanied her to our first long weekend of several sessions.
Although the memories evoked during the regressions were stressful, most difficult of all was transcribing the taped
regression sessions. Under hypnosis, I’d been in a trancelike state which cushioned the reliving of each event.
However, as I transcribed the tapes, I was fully awake and aware, listening carefully in order to correctly capture each
word and nuance, hearing the raw emotion in my voice as well as June’s. Frequently, tears streamed down my face
until I could barely see. When this happened, I simply stopped for a few moments, listened to some calming music,
had a cup of tea, and resumed transcribing. Looking back, I realize the truth of what a friend told me a few months
ago. Reliving all the original events, bizarre as they were, had been good for me. I’d come out the other side
unharmed, a much stronger, better person.
The Book Is Released—Worries Vanish as Support Grows
Once the book came out, my concerns were how it would be received and, more importantly, how I might be
perceived. I have been a medical transcriptionist for many years. Would my clients now find me too controversial to
do business with? Would my friends decide I was too “far out” for them? Would I begin receiving hate mail and
threatening letters?
These worries vanished as the emails and phone calls arrived. Many were from readers who were fellow abductees and
experiencers. Often, this was the first time they had dared to speak about their experiences, stating they’d never felt
comfortable or safe in doing so. I understood the courage it took to contact me, a complete stranger, and I knew
only too well the fear and reticence connected with stepping forth. Fortunately, they were not seeking advice, because
I had none to offer. They simply wanted a compassionate listener, and they found one in me.
I now saw that Raechel’s Eyes had become an instrument of comfort and hope to many, and I knew that going public
was the right thing to do after all.
Details Emerge Under Hypnosis
The first regression took me back to my initial meeting with Raechel in the apartment. June began by assuring me I
was safe. Next she moved me back through time to the moment I first met Raechel. I relived the whole event in
minute detail, down to the actual conversation with Marisa as we stood in the doorway saying goodbye, both of us
wishing I could have met Raechel. When Raechel appeared, I described her in detail…the “big glasses, the scarf tied
around her head and under her chin, her face extraordinarily small,” the light blue color of her long-sleeved, one-piece
jumpsuit, her somewhat awkward body build, and her general “funny-looking” appearance. I re-experienced the
queasy sensation I’d felt as she stood in front of me and I stared at her, powerfully compelled to keep looking at her
huge, riveting eyes.
June next asked what Raechel’s hands looked like. Nausea kicked in as I described them as “not right.” I distinctly saw
her hands as somehow artificial in appearance with only four fingers all the same length on each hand, and no
fingernails. I’m again feeling that peculiar queasy feeling as I write this.
The session continued and I heard Raechel’s mechanical, expressionless voice speaking words during our introduction
in a tone of voice that also was “not right,” although her words were entirely appropriate. At that point I began
sobbing, but June once again comforted me, and in a few moments we continued.
Next we moved to the incident where Raechel tripped and I caught her. Now my feelings changed. I found myself
staring deep into her huge, avocado-green eyes, mesmerized by the vertical black slits, initially terrified. I felt the slits
themselves were pulling me deep inside them, and I felt from her a desperate effort to communicate something she
was unable or unwilling to verbalize. Now my fear vanished. I realized Raechel was the one terrified. She was
attempting to communicate telepathically that she meant no harm to me and hoped I meant none to her. My stare
still unbroken but the apprehension gone, I then appreciated the real beauty of Raechel’s eyes as they pulled me so
deeply into them, beauty I hadn’t realized existed until now.
Following a full weekend of regressions wherein I revisited familiar and not-so-familiar places and different dimensions,
my head was crammed full of details that had to be assimilated. Relief accompanied the realization that at last I was
aware of some of the details buried so many years. I also learned that the reason I couldn’t fully remember them
previously was that I’d been programmed not to recall them until the time was right. And that may have been a good
thing, because during the period in 1972 when these events had taken place, I believe I wouldn’t have been able to
handle them emotionally.
Another thing. At least now I knew the events had actually occurred—no more of the old, at best fuzzy, recall up to a
certain point, followed by the old familiar brick wall. I was no longer fearful of what might have happened. Now I knew
what really took place.
A Transformational Experience
After 30 years, my life was finally beginning to make sense, at least to me. And nothing would ever again be the
same, and neither would I. There was also a sense of knowing that although many answers had been provided, many
had not. But, perhaps there was no need for that.
Bringing Raechel’s Eyes to the public has provided the means to create dramatic, positive changes in how I feel, how I
think, how I act, and most importantly, who I am. It has opened portals I never dreamed existed, guided me to
worlds I could only have imagined, and allowed me to participate in experiences still hard for me to comprehend. The
word “portals” is significant to me because one event during the summer of 1972 was neither a doorway nor a
window, at least not as we know it, although it was an entranceway.
A dramatic episode revealed under hypnosis occurred on another afternoon when I stopped by Marisa’s apartment.
Marisa was still at class. Raechel, however, was present and she immediately initiated an intense dialogue,
emphasizing she wished I were her mother. I responded that there was no way I could be, but I’d love to be her
friend. Apparently not satisfied, she restated her wish, adding that she wanted to show me the place where she’d
been raised.
Raechel Takes Me on an Unforgettable Visit
At this point I remember standing in the kitchen leaning against a porcelain-topped kitchen table with my left hand on
the edge of the table top. The apartment was hot and stuffy in the early summer heat, and the cool porcelain felt
good. I distinctly recall that pleasant sensation on my hand even as I’m writing this. Raechel stood approximately five
feet from me, in front of the refrigerator, at the side of which were lined up several large, clear jugs containing her
drinking liquid, the only fluid she was allowed to consume. As she stared intently at me, I felt pulled into those vertical
black slits in her huge, avocado-green eyes.
Suddenly I found myself standing in a large, oval, white-walled enclosure where windows surrounded an inner,
smaller, oval-shaped room. I was on the outside of the windows while Raechel was on the inside. She instructed me
to come inside with her, and I responded that I couldn’t; there was no doorway. She replied I didn’t need a door, that
I should place the palm of my hand on the window in front of me, that she would place hers in the same location on
the inside, and that I could then come through. I did as she asked and almost instantly found myself in the inner
room beside her.
I clearly recall the uneasy sensation of passing through the glass. My body felt elongated and wavy as I passed
through, similar to ripples created when one tosses a pebble into a pool. On finding myself inside the windows,
standing beside Raechel, I was instantly back into my normal body.
Several extremely bizarre, unsettling events occurred once Raechel showed me what was inside the oval-windowed
room, events that, as I relived them during regressions, were very emotionally disturbing, and continue to be.
Next, I was back in the kitchen, still leaning against the table, my left hand still in its position on the cool porcelain.
Raechel was where she had been, near the refrigerator, facing me, but no longer staring at me. And Marisa still had
not returned. I said goodbye and quickly left.
My outlook on life changed drastically from that moment. I may never know all the reasons Raechel took me to that
room inside the windows, although I have my own ideas and they will forever haunt me. Of one thing I am sure. On
that summer afternoon I journeyed through a portal to another dimension with her, to the place she called home.
During one of the regressions in 1998, when I dealt with this event, I discovered it was a turning point in my life. In
that most bizarre of all places I learned clearly from Raechel what my mission was to be and, in the course of writing
Raechel’s Eyes, I have accomplished it. The whole experience has given me the incentive and ability to “be who I am.”
As a result, I’m able to lend strength and courage to other experiencers by listening quietly as they relate details of
abductions, sightings, contacts, whatever disturbing memories they choose to share. I have no suggestions, no
answers, nor am I sure there are any. What I do have to offer is a sympathetic ear, and perhaps most importantly,
compassion, which may be the greatest gift I, in turn, have received from Raechel’s Eyes.
| TODAY IS |
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