After visiting a friend in an old apartment building downtown on a cool and cloudless summer evening, I walk downstairs to the lobby and, as I near the front door, I hear a loud rumbling sound and people screaming outside. Exiting the building onto the sidewalk the noise level increases to a deafening roar and a crowd of panicked and screeching people are running through the street toward the east. The scene is one of utter pandemonium!
I manage to snake my way through them and, turning the corner toward where my car was parked, have my first glimpse of what has them so terrified.
Descending from the sky above a park in the next block is an enormous, glowing white, inverted cone shaped object belching smoke and flames from rocket engines at its base.
Someone runs into me and knocks me to the ground. I scramble to my feet and run back up to my friends apartment. She’s standing frozen at the window staring down into the park below. . .
I wake up in a cold sweat and stumble into the bathroom, splash some water on my face and prepare to meet the day. I have an appointment scheduled in the Hollywood Hills so I put the dream out of mind and go about my morning routine.
My new customers’ piano turns out to be almost as disturbing as my nightmare. The inside is covered with a yellow mold that I’ve never encountered before. It takes me and the owner more than an hour to clean and disinfect it before I can even consider tuning the poor little thing – which required a major pitch raise and some minor action regulation. After three and a half hours of work I collect payment and hit the road.
On the freeway, heading west toward the beach, I suddenly have an uncontrollable urge to sneeze and, with no time to reach for a tissue to cover my nose, a spray of large salt crystals (?) spews across my dashboard and windshield. Alarmed by this I exit the freeway and park so I can collect myself and clean up the interior of the car.
That evening, after describing these two oddities to a friend on the telephone, there’s a long pause in our conversation. Finally he blurts out “Dude, you were abducted!”. He was dead serious.
Certainly the coincidence is a little weird and I have no idea how all that “salt” got into my sinuses but I imagine it was a reaction to the mold. My friend wasn’t buying it, however, and urged me to install surveillance cameras in my room to document the next close encounter. He has a vivid imagination and is a very inventive and prolific song writer who often makes bizarre connections like this which I find enormously entertaining. I put down the phone and laughed until my sides ached.
I hope that you [Like] this little story. Halloween is just around the corner and I have more fun tales on the drawing board of shocking and, dare I say it, terrifying experiments from our laboratory.