An Eventful Encounter

"I was trapped. Couldn't get out. Looked up and around. No way out," George calmly stated as he looked at the psychiatrist recording his every word. "The hole was about seven feet in all directions. Meant I couldn't climb out either. Trapped for sure," he added.

George paused, took a deep breath and stared into space. 

Mr. Trenton waited a few more seconds, glanced down at his notes, then prodded,

"What thoughts were going through your mind when trapped in this hole?"

"I thought my life was over for sure. No one around to help me, to pull me out, to run for help."

“Do you think that maybe these 'aliens',” Mr. Trenton curved his index and middle fingers to simulate quotations marks, "might have come to your aid and pulled you out?"

"I pleaded for help but they were talking gibberish to each other or at least that's what it seemed to me. They were carrying on a lively conversation but I didn't understand a word they were saying. Just gibberish, but obviously proper alien talk to each other."

After a hesitation, Mr. Trenton said, “You know, George, you’ve been coming to me for years and you’ve continually expressed a wish to meet aliens.” 

“Yes, that’s my greatest wish ever, since I was a little boy. I read so many space and alien stories and imagined meeting them. This longing only grew stronger every year until it finally happened." George spread his hands and grinned. 

Mr. Trenton nodded, jotted a note and resumed his prodding.

"Could you give me a description of what these aliens looked like?"

George stared into space as if trying to recollect their appearance. After a moment of silence, he answered,

"They appeared short, about four feet tall with stubby arms and legs. Like us, they had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth but appeared to have an antenna protruding from the back of their heads."

"Were they wearing helmets with this antenna sticking out?"

"No. No. The antenna seemed to come out of their heads but I'm not sure of the exact position. I was looking up at them, don't forget, from at least seven feet in distance. So it was impossible to tell from my vantage point, you understand."

Mr. Trenton nodded and continued to draw more information from George.

"And what were they wearing, as a point of interest?"

"It looked like they had jumper suits on—one piecers with zippers closing up the front. And running shoes," he added momentarily.

"What about their hand gestures? Did they use any?"

"Yes, of course. They waved them continually and even pointed at me and talked very animated among themselves.” George waved his own hands frantically in the air, imitating their gestures.

"How many would you say were there, peering down into your hole?"

"Probably about, hmm, four. Yes, four."

"Did they threaten you in any way or were they trying to figure out how to get you out?"

"They were all animated, all chattering and gesturing. So I don't know the answer to that question. I suppose they were trying to figure out whether to leave me or not."

"But they made no move to get you out?" Mr. Trenton half stated and half asked.

"That's right. I pleaded with them but I don't think they understood wh—”

"But aren't hand gestures the same in any language, including aliens?" interrupted Mr. Trenton, trying to get George to be more specific.

"Yes. Probably. I was waving my hands like a lunatic down there. Maybe that frightened them. Who knows?" He wrestled with his thoughts as if trying to get an answer himself.

"George, you live in California. What were you doing in New Mexico when all this happened?"

"I was on an expedition to track evidence. As you may or may not know, an UFO was spotted in that same area several months ago, so I thought I'd visit that part of the desert to see for myself. I'm very much interested in space."

"What were you hoping to find?"

"Possibly some clues as to why that particular spot was chosen, any craters that might still be remaining from their spaceship landings or any evidence of returned visits. That sort of thing."

"And did you find any new evidence on your latest expedition?"

"Not until this happened," he replied, shifting in his seat and beginning to show signs of uneasiness. "I was prepared to stay for a week and slept the first night in the back of my jeep, under the stars. I had my telescope and light beaming at the sky, ready for any action."

"When did this 'action' happen, George? On what day or night?'

"On the second day. As I was writing in my notebook, sitting in the back of the jeep, I heard a roaring sound overhead, then felt sand spitting up all around me. An object, that resembled a saucer, spun to a stop about twenty metres ahead of me and out climbed some aliens. I crept closer and could hear some babbling. Then suddenly I was grabbed from behind, flung to the ground, dragged and pushed into a hole."

"Where did these aliens, who grabbed you from behind, come from? Off the spaceship? From the hole?"

"I've been trying to figure that out myself. I think some might have already landed, watching me the whole time."

Mr. Trenton jotted some notes and looked back at George.

"What did the spaceship look like?"

"Like the kinds you see in science fiction movies; oval shaped, domed-top, no lettering or words anywhere. Plain."

"How long were you in the hole?"

"At least one night. I could hear some animals scurrying in the dark. Afraid they might fall in." He shivered at his last remark and bit his bottom lip.

"Were you injured? Did you call for help?" asked Mr. Trenton patiently.

"Of course I screamed for help. My phone, camera, everything was back in the jeep. I was helpless." George's voice rose as if to underscore the powerlessness of his situation.

"How did you get out?" Mr. Trenton asked, unperturbed by the outburst but making an addition in his notebook.

"As I said before, I had directed a beam towards the sky when I was setting up things for the evening. When I heard the noise, I got distracted and forgot to turn it off. Thank goodness for that slip up now. A helicopter pilot spotted it the next morning and stopped to investigate. I guess I was pretty lucky."

"Yes, George, you were very lucky that helicopter came along. But do you have evidence to collaborate your story? Photos? Tracks? Footprints? Marks in the sand?

"Nothing. Only my unbelievable and once in a lifetime encounter with aliens."

"So you realize it's your spoken word against scientific evidence?” Silence answered the question. “I think, George, that you’ve been wishing for this alien encounter all your life and you firmly believe it actually happened.”

"I realize my story is tough to fathom but every word is true. I saw a spaceship. I saw aliens and I was pushed into a hole by them. End of story."

“And that’s the story you’re sticking to?” George nodded. “What are you going to do with this information?"

"Why, sell the rights to my story to the movie industry and have it made into a blockbuster." 

Mr. Trenton sighed and added another anecdotal summary to the bulging file of George Wilson #6023. Patient delusional. Unable to separate wishes from reality. Further help upon request.