I awoke to the sound of buzzing, like a tool of some sort. It was a hot spring Texas night, about 3 AM or so. I was in that bleary state between sleep and consciousness, wondering if I had just dreamed about visiting the dentist. The head of my twin sleigh bed backs up the bedroom window that looks out over the vegetable  garden. When the curtains are open I can see the moonlit rectangle formed by my window form on the wall above my face.
Is that footsteps I hear, on the roof? I’d been woken up by squirrels scampering in the attic many times before. The funny thing is that if I turn on my bedroom light, they seem to freeze in their tracks, almost like a game. But this was different. My body is telling me not to move. To stay still, go unnoticed. Then I see the most horrifying detail of my situation broadcast on my wall to confirm my body’s instincts; a silhouette. Two silhouettes. Two tear drop shaped heads atop long necks necks no thicker than a candlestick. This is my worst nightmare. Ghost stories and tales of the supernatural are all fun and games until they are there with you and you have nowhere to hide. The buzzing stops. I must be dreaming. Then, a beam of light spanning from one bedroom wall to the other slowly inches its way from the floor of the opposite wall towards my windowsill scanning for life, I assume. I pull my cover over my head as stealthy as possible. The beam is inching closer now near the foot of my bed. I hold my breath. I don’t think I could breath even if I wanted to. Now the light blue beam with a faint humming noise is inching towards my toes. Now it’s over my feet, my ankles. My calves. My knees. My thighs. My hips. I think I’m going to faint from fear. My whole body feels cold. My belly. What about my parents? My chest. What about my brother? If I can just find a moment to run, maybe I can be quick enough to run to them and we can flee. My neck. My head. It’s over. The last of the scanning beam escapes through my window. I did manage to remain still enough to go unnoticed. Now’s my chance. I’ll go to my parents and my brother and we will escape! There’s strength in numbers. I’m sure the creatures would want to go unnoticed and not follow us. Then I hear the buzzing sound again. This time I can, as I peek out from under the covers, see the silhouette of a tool. It’s spinning and the size of a pizza cutter. I have to make my move. I have to be brave. Then, as if implanted in my brain like a stamp from a silent inhuman voice, it is made abundantly clear. An image appears in front of my closed eyes. I don’t understand how, but I know that they have already taken my family.

Many years have passed. I was a high school sophomore then.  I’m a grown adult now. I’ve told that story to a few trusted friends and even my Latin teacher the very day after it happened, all of us choosing to believe that is was just a nightmare. To this day it is the most vivid dream I have ever had. Every time I think about it, I can remember every detail; like I told it to you just now. But I don’t want it to be real, just like all of those other strange occurrences at that house I grew up in.

But then the day came. It was honestly quite poetic if you ask me. I was visiting my parents house where I grew up. The same house where I had that dream. It was October and I decided it would be fun to watch a scary movie. I sat alone and in the dark in my old room with my computer screen the only light. I found a documentary about extraterrestrials that several friends had recommended I watch for a good scare. I watched the documentary. The story was fantastic, bringing me in and out of reality as I sat alone in the dark in my old room. Until, it came to the part where they showed the original footage captured by the protagonist and her colleagues. I watched in horror, a feeling of ice cold slowly creeping down my body from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes,  gripping my chair on either side. And I realized that even in our own homes, with the doors locked, that none of us are truly safe, and that what happened to my family all those years ago, was not a dream.