I started this a bit ago, but I didn't want to post it until I had more than just a few encounters listed. Heres a map of all of the stories I have listed on my blog. The stories that seem suspicious and/or extremely unlike the norm, I will omit for the time being.
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Sunday, February 27, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
BEP of the past
Hello, everyone :) I'm sorry for not posting this sooner. I was lucky enough to be volunteered to take over some shifts at work to replace a sick coworker, and then I got sick myself. Such is life.
Well… My visit was a success in that I got an interview. My friend failed to mention that the “person she worked with” was a patient and not a coworker. She had a good laugh, but I was pretty peeved at first. The lady, Ms. Dorothy, was nice and seemed excited to have another visitor, so I did the interview anyway. Some of what she said actually really interesting and fit with the BEP lore, but... I’m not sure how much, if any, of what she said should be taken seriously because of her condition. I haven’t really been researching much this week, though, so I’ll include what she had to say anyway. It might come in useful later.
I recorded the interview, but I’m only going to post a transcript. I don’t want to risk her identity being discovered, and I don’t know if she was in the state to accept some of the information being made public. Some parts will be edited out to protect her anonymity or to eliminate unnecessary commentary. Also, to make things more coherent, I’m cutting out a lot of her ramblings. Much of it wasn’t understandable to begin with, and it would be even more difficult to read.
Location: Omaha, Nebraska
Time: 1960; late summer
Abbreviations: M (Me/Morgan); D (Dorothy); C (Chrissie)
Quick background: Dorothy was living in Omaha at the time with her husband (deceased). He had just gotten a job in the city, and she was in the process of fixing up the house and keeping an eye out for a job for herself. Because of being unaccustomed to the new town and getting acquainted at work, her husband was often late during the first couple of weeks. This left Dorothy at home much of the day on her own.
M: Can you tell me about your house?
D: It was a small house. We couldn’t afford much more at that time. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and kitchen. There was a basement—unfinished. That’s where we stored everything while we were unpacking.
M: What about the outside?
D: It was a yellow house. Compared to other houses on the street, we were a bit farther away [from the street].
M: How were your neighbors?
D: I didn’t know them well at that time, but they were a friendly enough bunch. An older couple in one house, a young couple in the other. The neighborhood didn’t have too many problems… A few problem children, but that’s to be expected everywhere.
M: Ok… And can you remember the day that it happened?
D: Oh, yes, quite clearly. I can’t remember the date, mind you, but the day itself… (long pause) It was late summer. It was soon after we moved into the house. Maybe one or two weeks later. David was running late, and the sun was already going down. I locked the doors and went into the basement to finish up for the day.
About fifteen minutes after I started cleaning up, I thought I heard a knock at my back door. It was softer than normal; I could tell that even in the basement. The few times anyone had come over, they’d used the front door. I wasn’t worried, not yet. I went upstairs and looked out into the back yard. I didn’t see anyone there and assumed they had left before I reached the door.
Well, maybe five or ten minutes later, I heard a knock at the front door. I hurried to answer it. When I opened the door, a young man was standing there.
M: What did he look like? How old was he? What was he wearing?
D: Oh, he was about seventeen or eighteen I guess. He had very sharp features… High cheekbones, a strong nose… He was an attractive boy. His hair was sandy brown, and he was wearing a pair of khaki-colored pants and a light blue shirt. I think he was a few inches taller than me [D is about 5’4], and he was thin.
At first he didn’t say anything. I didn’t recognize him from around the neighborhood, but I was new. I thought he was someone’s son coming to say hello.
After he stood there silently for a short moment, he began to talk. He told me he wanted a cup of coffee.
I was confused! I don’t normally turn down people in need, but something was off about this man… He was very cold, very demanding. Even his mannerisms were predatory. He stood perfectly still, not even blinking. The way he looked at me was so... Oppressive.
I wanted him to leave, so I told him that I didn’t have any coffee. Well, that wasn’t enough for him. He then told me he needed to use a phone. I said that we hadn't connected the phone yet, and he said that it was alright. He just needed to use a phone. I was getting scared, all right. That’s when I looked him in the eyes.
There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. His eyes were pitch black. Cold. Evil. But for some reason, I couldn’t look away. I was numbed when I looked in those eyes, like nothing else mattered.
Before I knew it, my husband’s car door slammed shut in the driveway. I was able to look away from the young man, and I realized that I had opened my front door and began to step aside as if I were going to let him in. I don’t remember opening the door wide, but when I finally realized what I was doing I began to scream for my husband.
He [her husband] looked up at me and ran over. The boy moved quickly, like a cat… He was inhumanly graceful. It was almost like he wasn’t solid.
When my husband came to me, I was crying. He didn’t know why I was so upset. He didn’t see the young man at the door or leaving. It was like he never existed.
The conversation regarding the BEP ended about there. She had a few moments where she was upset, and those portions have been cut. Chrissie talked with me after the interview and told me a few things that make me wonder if everything shouldn’t just be forgotten. Here is the transcript of her talking.
C: I know that Dorothy really believes this happened, and I really appreciate you listening to her. She talks about that guy once a week or so and really enjoys having visitors. But don’t take her too seriously. I’ve talked with her psychiatrist about her medical history. I guess that she has a long history of depression and insomnia. It’s very likely that what happened that day was the result of a psychotic episode or sleep deprivation. She was under a lot of stress at that time, and she has never been emotionally or mentally stable. She was probably just hallucinating.
So, there you have it. It was an interesting story, and I was definitely pulled in when I was listening to her. Maybe it's just me being a gullible believer, but... Oh, nevermind. It's probably just me overanalyzing and drawing connections that aren't there.
Well… My visit was a success in that I got an interview. My friend failed to mention that the “person she worked with” was a patient and not a coworker. She had a good laugh, but I was pretty peeved at first. The lady, Ms. Dorothy, was nice and seemed excited to have another visitor, so I did the interview anyway. Some of what she said actually really interesting and fit with the BEP lore, but... I’m not sure how much, if any, of what she said should be taken seriously because of her condition. I haven’t really been researching much this week, though, so I’ll include what she had to say anyway. It might come in useful later.
I recorded the interview, but I’m only going to post a transcript. I don’t want to risk her identity being discovered, and I don’t know if she was in the state to accept some of the information being made public. Some parts will be edited out to protect her anonymity or to eliminate unnecessary commentary. Also, to make things more coherent, I’m cutting out a lot of her ramblings. Much of it wasn’t understandable to begin with, and it would be even more difficult to read.
Location: Omaha, Nebraska
Time: 1960; late summer
Abbreviations: M (Me/Morgan); D (Dorothy); C (Chrissie)
Quick background: Dorothy was living in Omaha at the time with her husband (deceased). He had just gotten a job in the city, and she was in the process of fixing up the house and keeping an eye out for a job for herself. Because of being unaccustomed to the new town and getting acquainted at work, her husband was often late during the first couple of weeks. This left Dorothy at home much of the day on her own.
M: Can you tell me about your house?
D: It was a small house. We couldn’t afford much more at that time. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and kitchen. There was a basement—unfinished. That’s where we stored everything while we were unpacking.
M: What about the outside?
D: It was a yellow house. Compared to other houses on the street, we were a bit farther away [from the street].
M: How were your neighbors?
D: I didn’t know them well at that time, but they were a friendly enough bunch. An older couple in one house, a young couple in the other. The neighborhood didn’t have too many problems… A few problem children, but that’s to be expected everywhere.
M: Ok… And can you remember the day that it happened?
D: Oh, yes, quite clearly. I can’t remember the date, mind you, but the day itself… (long pause) It was late summer. It was soon after we moved into the house. Maybe one or two weeks later. David was running late, and the sun was already going down. I locked the doors and went into the basement to finish up for the day.
About fifteen minutes after I started cleaning up, I thought I heard a knock at my back door. It was softer than normal; I could tell that even in the basement. The few times anyone had come over, they’d used the front door. I wasn’t worried, not yet. I went upstairs and looked out into the back yard. I didn’t see anyone there and assumed they had left before I reached the door.
Well, maybe five or ten minutes later, I heard a knock at the front door. I hurried to answer it. When I opened the door, a young man was standing there.
M: What did he look like? How old was he? What was he wearing?
D: Oh, he was about seventeen or eighteen I guess. He had very sharp features… High cheekbones, a strong nose… He was an attractive boy. His hair was sandy brown, and he was wearing a pair of khaki-colored pants and a light blue shirt. I think he was a few inches taller than me [D is about 5’4], and he was thin.
At first he didn’t say anything. I didn’t recognize him from around the neighborhood, but I was new. I thought he was someone’s son coming to say hello.
After he stood there silently for a short moment, he began to talk. He told me he wanted a cup of coffee.
I was confused! I don’t normally turn down people in need, but something was off about this man… He was very cold, very demanding. Even his mannerisms were predatory. He stood perfectly still, not even blinking. The way he looked at me was so... Oppressive.
I wanted him to leave, so I told him that I didn’t have any coffee. Well, that wasn’t enough for him. He then told me he needed to use a phone. I said that we hadn't connected the phone yet, and he said that it was alright. He just needed to use a phone. I was getting scared, all right. That’s when I looked him in the eyes.
There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. His eyes were pitch black. Cold. Evil. But for some reason, I couldn’t look away. I was numbed when I looked in those eyes, like nothing else mattered.
Before I knew it, my husband’s car door slammed shut in the driveway. I was able to look away from the young man, and I realized that I had opened my front door and began to step aside as if I were going to let him in. I don’t remember opening the door wide, but when I finally realized what I was doing I began to scream for my husband.
He [her husband] looked up at me and ran over. The boy moved quickly, like a cat… He was inhumanly graceful. It was almost like he wasn’t solid.
When my husband came to me, I was crying. He didn’t know why I was so upset. He didn’t see the young man at the door or leaving. It was like he never existed.
The conversation regarding the BEP ended about there. She had a few moments where she was upset, and those portions have been cut. Chrissie talked with me after the interview and told me a few things that make me wonder if everything shouldn’t just be forgotten. Here is the transcript of her talking.
C: I know that Dorothy really believes this happened, and I really appreciate you listening to her. She talks about that guy once a week or so and really enjoys having visitors. But don’t take her too seriously. I’ve talked with her psychiatrist about her medical history. I guess that she has a long history of depression and insomnia. It’s very likely that what happened that day was the result of a psychotic episode or sleep deprivation. She was under a lot of stress at that time, and she has never been emotionally or mentally stable. She was probably just hallucinating.
So, there you have it. It was an interesting story, and I was definitely pulled in when I was listening to her. Maybe it's just me being a gullible believer, but... Oh, nevermind. It's probably just me overanalyzing and drawing connections that aren't there.
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