This is the second part of our series of articles on Healing Encounters. Part 1 can be found here: Healing Encounters, part 1.
In this section, you'll find the contributions by Denise Stoner, Thomas Minderlé, and Nadine Lalich.
Denise Stoner: Healing Encounters
Why would our visitors from another place in the universe or another dimension heal us in some way? It seems that some of us have been healed completely, some of us have been healed partially, and a few have requested healing and are still waiting for a miracle to happen. Some of us have had healing take place when we were on board a craft during an encounter we had. Others had healing take place in a hospital setting while in a near death situation. Whatever the case may be many have been healed in some way by an entity that did not resemble what we picture an angel might look like but also have the eyes of what is often described as an alien gray.
Many who know me, have read my book The Alien Abduction Files co-authored with Kathleen Marden, or heard me on radio shows are aware I have been an experiencer since age 2 ½. Standing on a sofa whose back was against a window, I was watching a huge yellow egg-shaped craft outside this living room window as it hovered just above the telephone lines. I showed it to my grandfather when he came to check on me and he was afraid of what he saw. Even today I picture the look of fear on his face. A brave Scotsman who fought in the trenches during World War I, he wasn’t afraid of anything, except this thing outside our window. The look of wonder, then fear flashed across his face before he gained control of his emotions. I was a child who loved nursery rhymes and the image of Humpty Dumpty immediately came to my mind. I asked what he was doing up in the sky although by now this object was directly in front of the telephone lines. I was taken upstairs and put to bed for the night only to be greeted by a small entity no taller than myself. He – I felt it was a male – was wearing a monk like garment with a hood, belt, no feet I could see and long bell sleeves. Looking into the hood I saw large dark eyes gazing back into mine. He was holding a long thin instrument with a light on the end. I didn’t know if this was an actual light or tool of some kind. He held his other hand out indicating I should take hold of it. I noticed that he had 4 long skinny fingers but I felt no fear because the nursery rhyme figures on my wall paper were all different shapes and sizes and I figured that was where he came from as I did see him emerge from that exact wall in front of my bed.
I took his hand, we walked out of my bedroom and into the hall where he touched the wallpaper to our right. We then walked right through the wall as if it didn’t exist. Suddenly we were in a smooth room with seats that lined the wall but blended into the wall itself. Through an arch in the ceiling I could see other children sitting on the seat as it continued around the wall next to me. Today, I only recall that I was there to learn something and have not attempted to bring those memories back. I was taken many times as a child to that same place for the same reason.
How was I returned? I have several conscious memories of the times I was returned to my home. When I was young and our new home had not been built yet, I was just returned to my bed. Once we moved to the historic town of Wethersfield, CT, I was often brought to a park a couple of blocks from our home where my school sat at one end. If it was fall, summer, or spring, I never felt the temperature and just began to walk quickly toward my house. I did recall a tall thin figure I now realized was not chasing me but making sure I arrived home safely. I named him appropriately “the oil can man” due to the old-style oil can shaped funnel with a long tube he carried at the end of one arm. It constantly dripped an oily fluid and made a clocking sound when he dropped it on my head or back as I ran. I believe it was supposed to prevent me from recalling the event I had just experienced, enter my home, and fall asleep. It did not always work as it was supposed to and perhaps worked other times as I suspected I had been taken and had vague dreams of running from this “oil can man” but none were waking memories. These “dreams” took place in the woods at the end of our street rather in the park. I had another experience with this tall man when I was in my teens when he chased me down my street in CA just before dark. I believe a policeman was witness to this event and left without reporting the incident.
That very first incident was in February 1951. This began a journey that has been my life story to share, research, and have as a reference in order to support others looking for answers.
Fast forward to a time in my life when I had a new daughter born in February of 1969. Beginning in April I had started to have a constant headache that seemed to be behind my right eye and the side of my head. It also slammed like a hammer if I bent over then stood or moved my head quickly side to side. Not exactly like a migraine but never changing and I became weaker by the day. I visited a Dr. who told me I needed glasses.
I had my eyes examined and was given a weak prescription for reading only but there was such little difference that I never wore them. The pain continued. It took every bit of strength I had to get out of bed in the morning, feed and bathe my daughter, then put her down for a nap while I sat in a rocking chair next to her watching the soap operas on TV. My husband worked at least 10 hours a day as a salesman and had a long drive to and from work. When he had a day off, he naturally wanted to do something with his family. We also had friends and all of us loved to spend time outdoors or at each other’s homes on weekends. I had become so weak that I didn’t know if I could walk from our car to the front door a few feet away but was afraid to stay home alone. It was now June.
A couple who loved to go fishing in the Colorado Mountains asked us to go with them and have a picnic. I packed our baby and the other couple were bringing their little boy. I had tenderness under my rib cage and had asked the Dr. what that could be. He examined me earlier that week and said there was nothing there that could cause the type of pain I was describing and sent me home. My headache was relentless, but I felt people were beginning to think I was faking these symptoms so fought to keep going.
We arrived at the beautiful river along the mountain side and the men set up chairs on the bank where we could be comfortable with our babies. My husband placed a portable crib next to my chair. I sat down but suddenly had no balance and fell out of the chair on to the gravel and could not regain stability to get back up. My girlfriend helped me to sit again. Another attempt was made by me to sit upright and again I tipped to the right and fell from the chair. I realized also that my thinking was cloudy. I wanted to withdraw into myself and felt that my husband was embarrassed or even thought I had been drinking too much and that was the reason for my behavior.
My girlfriend said we should walk up to the car where we had our picnic baskets and sandwiches ready to prepare. I was upset and told her I was not feeling well at all. She made me half a sandwich and I tried to eat it managing only about 2 bites. I placed it back in the basket while she took food down the slope to the men.
My memory is very foggy following the remainder of that day other than the vehicles were packed up and we drove home. The next morning was to begin a whole new chapter in my life and soon I experienced something I have never forgotten.
My husband was at work. I had taken care of our daughter and she was sleeping. I was not strong enough to get dressed and was in my robe. I was rocking in my chair when suddenly I had the feeling that a bubble had burst in my head – not painful at all – just a slight POP. Next, I noticed that my almost 4 month long headache was gone. It was now well into June. I looked at the TV and realized I could not recall the names of any of the characters on my favorite show now on the screen. I began to feel afraid and thought I should stand up. I was able to do so but there was an extreme weakness on my right side, and I knew I needed to support myself. There was a table in front of me, so I leaned forward and reached that. I knew then I had to call my husband at work. Even though my headache was gone I had a feeling of impending doom. Now, there was a real problem. I had to pray my husband answered the phone because if he didn’t – I couldn’t remember his name therefore would not be able to ask for him. This was quite a dilemma! I stood leaning on the table thinking over my options. In the end, after a few minutes, I had to try calling. I did recall my husband’s work phone. This was 1969 with no number storage and the phone was rotary dial. However, I was truly blessed as he did answer the phone. The only thing that would come out of my lips was “Hi”, then “I don’t know”…at first he asked if I had been drinking because I was slurring my words so badly but when he attempted to ask further questions, I continued to reply “I don’t know”. Suddenly recognizing there was something terribly wrong, I heard him tell me he was coming home. He was 45 minutes away with no traffic. When he arrived home, I was on the phone with my best girlfriend who was visiting from CT but staying with a relative in town for a couple of days. I was writing down her number and to my husband’s amazement, I was writing perfectly from right to left plus upside down. I wish I could still do that. Once I recovered though my handwriting changed drastically to a not really neat right-hand cursive and print to what everyone believes is a lefty and really pretty both cursive and print style writing. I’m getting a bit off track here…
My husband took me to the best private hospital in Denver recommended by his boss – who always looked out for Ed as his youngest and promising employee. We went to their ER and soon I was surrounded by 5 neurologists who could not figure out what was wrong. Their best guess was a possible brain tumor. There were no MRIs or modern day tests through high tech equipment in 1969 so I had the most painful test done that involved being awake, a needle inserted into the carotid artery in my neck, then air pumped into the cortex of my brain in order take x-rays. This was worse than the headache I had already suffered. Next, I had a spinal tap. I told them with words I searched very hard for – there would be no more tests and if they had no idea what to do, they were to let me go. Those were my rights as a patient.
I asked to go home to spend time with my baby and decide what I wanted. My mom came and told them she would bring me back the next day. I was given permission to do that. I did not recall my mom’s name. When I got home, I got into bed and was given a little bell to ring in case I needed anything as I was then beyond making full sentences.
I now have more than one MRI of my brain in those marvelous thin slices. The ability to capture a photo of the damage two strokes had done was impossible in 1969. The MRI taken in 2018 may be the final clear one I ever capture because I have an allergy to the contrast dye that causes me to develop deep vein blood clots. Toward the bottom left of the photo are two holes filled with nothing but fluid where brain tissue should be. There is also damage on the brain stem called the pons. Should I be able to talk, walk, read, and more…Not according to the Doctors. Should I be able to have had a career with both the National Park Service and the US Navy as a Civilian doing jobs that I had to teach myself? No! Let’s continue…
I had the feeling I was going to die. The next day I was taken back to the ER and was admitted to a private room. My brain was actually healing by then but I felt horribly ill when lunch was delivered so I stuck it into the chest next to me fully intending to give it to a young intern so he could eat. I was alone as my mom was taking care of my baby, my husband had to work and because I appeared to be stable the Dr. said he would call them should anything change.
With no warning at all, a type of projectile vomiting occurred unlike anything I could imagine possible. At the same time – and this is a bit much, but this liquid exploded from every orifice in my body. I was then engulfed in a type of pain that I wanted to trade for the peace of death. I glanced at the sheets that were covered with violet liquid – later written in my medical records as unidentified. I reached up to my pillow and buzzed for the nurse.
A “nurse” walked through the doorway and for a moment stood near my legs just looking at me. I looked at her and noted what she was wearing. I saw the large, almond shaped eyes, strangely shaped head, hair that appeared to be fake and the dress with a cap that didn’t suit the 60’s at all. It seemed to be from the 50’s possibly but I wasn’t sure. She did not speak using her mouth, but I could “hear” her. She told me she was going to change the sheets and take the ones covered with the purple liquid to the lab for my Dr. It was explained that I would not have to move at all. I was totally lucid and felt myself being lifted slightly above the sheets while clean ones replaced the soiled ones. I felt as if I was lying on a soft surface but knew I was floating. This process lasted about 30 seconds. Soon I was back on the bed. The odd appearance of this “nurse” continued to keep me focused on her and not so much on my pain. She then leaned closer to my face and told me “everything is going to be all right”. I watched her walk out the door and turn to the right.
Within 5 minutes my Dr. came in and sat down in the chair on the other side of my bed. He was asking me where the sheets had gone. He had observed the purple substance on my hospital gown and wanted the sheets to send to the lab. I told him the nurse had taken the sheets to the lab a few minutes ago. He asked me to describe her and how long ago she left my room. He explained how important the sheets were to diagnosing my illness. The lab, floor, and hospital were searched for her. There was no such nurse and my sheets were never found. They did not have enough substance on my gown back at that time to figure out what the fluid consisted of. The Dr. was very upset. Several Drs. consulted in order to come up with a plan. Suddenly I became sick once again and this time the substance was thought to be a result of gangrene located somewhere in my abdomen although the color was still not right. They described it as a violent purple. I myself remember seeing it.
I was moved to ICU. The abdominal pain became so intense that the largest amount of morphine possible did not touch it. I was screaming in agony and was scraping the soles of my feet against the footboard of the bed in order to scrape skin off the soles in an attempt to cause more pain there than in my torso. A specialist had been called in to stand by. My husband was standing by my bed. Suddenly I vomited once again only this time it was the consistency of – sorry folks – ground spinach. The surgeon instantly knew I had gangrene somewhere.
I was going for exploratory emergency surgery and to have my first Near Death Experience. I now know that when one connects with the subconscious part of who you are, one is able to make decisions on a different level – beyond your physical being. I was being wheeled into the operating room and decided right then I wanted nothing to do with it – IT being my physical body and the agony it was about to go through. That very second, I found myself up near the ceiling observing my body being wheeled through the doors into the surgery. I thought – good riddance. The pain was gone, and I felt a strange sense of freedom. I had drifted toward the upper corner of the hallway where suddenly a tunnel – many have mentioned this before – so I “thought” about going to the tunnel. I immediately found myself at the entrance. I could look so far into this fascinating place that seemed to call me, at the end was a bright light where people might be waiting for me. Well, this is it, here I go.
So, someone had a different idea apparently! When I attempted to enter the tunnel, I felt a resistance that I couldn’t see. I felt a strong pull to go back to my body, but I struggled, placing my hands and feet against the walls on either side of the tunnel. (Did I have hands and feet in this form I had taken?) Spread wide apart I tried to grasp at anything in order to stay where I was. Something or someone spun me around to face the operating room door. I thought NO, I don’t want to go back.
I never saw anyone, I can’t describe anyone, yet I felt two of the strongest, firmest, yet gentlest hands I have ever felt – one hand on each of my shoulder blades. I was emotional as I said I was not needed and had to leave. There was a male voice that said only “you have one thing to complete before you can join us”. With that statement, a powerful shove on my shoulder blades sent me tumbling down the hallway, straight through the doors and into now what was the recovery room. I saw my body lying on the table where the nurses and Dr. were attempting to wake me up. I was putting on the brakes, waving my arms, feet, and shaking my head as I dove head first into the open mouth of the body on the table – twisted around inside somehow – and came up face first fitting into the still very ill body who began waving arms, legs, and head to wake up. I was given a 20% chance to live as no one could give a reason why hundreds of blood clots had formed and traveled from my pelvic area up through my lungs and heart and lastly to my brain without killing me. I had had 2 large strokes, left with no speech, unable to walk without assistance, no memory, and more. The amazing surgeon removed all but 3 ft. of 22 ft. of small intestines after hand milking clots out of the remaining 3 ft., he removed some muscle tissue and a tiny portion of my stomach. He resected what was left of my intestines to my stomach telling my family to prepare my will. Once I was sent home – to possibly live only a short life – I had several episodes when I “heard the music of the tunnel calling” found myself leaving my body, arms reaching for the entrance of the universe, connecting with that universal consciousness I now know exists. Yet, it was not my turn to join that amazing home of our souls, so back I came.
Now, today, I can speak, write this article, walk, and do some remarkable things never expected of me back then or now. I worked for 20+ years for the Federal Government, taught SCUBA diving, hold support groups for experiencers and much much more. I should not be able to have done any of this. That was all a part of my healing. A gift given to me by my nurse/et. I should not have survived, especially not this long. I don’t question it but I would love to pass this gift on to others.
Was this nurse a hybrid? I think so? Was she also a Women in Black – one who visits humans? She came to my home here in FL just a few years ago and I felt she meant no harm but was a visit to check on my well-being, also to let me know she was always near. She has something to do with my being alive today. She was dressed differently. However, I knew instinctively who she was. She was the nurse who healed me, she was the person at my door early one Sunday morning, she checks on me in my sleep. She is one visitor who connects with me. Life isn’t perfect, I live with a clotting disorder that no one has an answer for other than saying it is most likely genetic but no one else in my family has it. I believe I am affected by being taken to the interior of certain types of crafts, the way they operate, chemicals used, and more. I have a movement disorder received following a tour to the core of a ship run by a combination of biological, organic and living parts. I was affected by it physically/neurologically.
I believe these “visitors” have the ability to heal yet it is to the best of their ability. We are, after all, humans, strange beings and we are still exploring ourselves. I just feel blessed to know these ETs felt I have been worthy enough to be given a part somehow in this universal consciousness and hope to be here until my script has been successfully completed.
Thomas Minderlé - Healing Encounters
Shortly before the outbreak of the 2009 Swine Flu pandemic, I woke up one morning feeling the typical after-effects of an abduction: alertness disproportionate to the amount of hours slept, feeling on edge about a presence having been in the room, and our black cat acting unsettled.
I tried to recall what happened that night, and only remembered the dream I had prior to awakening. In the dream I was given a medical exam by characters my mind interpreted as the cast from the Matrix movie: tall slender people with pale skin and black oval sunglasses. They implanted a little capsule under the skin between the ribs of my lower left rib cage. They said it was to protect me against a virus.
Well, after remembering this dream, I looked down and sure enough there was an unusual bruise in that spot with a tic-tac sized lump underneath, about 5mm deep. It was not there the days before. A couple weeks later, I heard about swine flu for the first time.
Oddly, within days of this incident, a friend (who also had signs of being an abductee) mentioned waking up with a similar bruise and lump in the exact same spot on his rib cage. Over the next two months, whatever was under the skin dissolved, and neither of us got sick.
Coincidence? Or were we given a slow-dissolve drug that protected us against a virus? I will never know for sure, but the circumstances were uncanny.
Here is another case. A close friend decided to probe her abduction experiences by consulting a well-known local clairvoyant for any additional insights. This clairvoyant tuned into her past and sensed she had been abducted as a young child and had her hearing restored by advanced beings. Peculiar detail. Since my friend was not born deaf and has good hearing to this day, was there anything that could corroborate this reading?
Indeed there was. As a toddler she caught a severe case of meningitis and came dangerously close to death. Doctors had to perform a spinal tap and pump her full of antibiotics to save her life. And yet, despite the severity of her illness, in the hospital she made a quick and miraculous recovery with zero brain or hearing damage. The doctors at the time could not explain it and chalked it up to her having super healing abilities. But considering that she, too, has had abduction experiences, perhaps the clairvoyant (who was never told of the meningitis incident) was correct that advanced intervention occurred.
In the abduction research literature, there are numerous cases of alien groups performing surgery and healing their human subjects. There are also allegations of targeted abductees being given virulent cancers to finish them off. The latter clearly indicates malevolent intention, but does healing prove benevolence? Not always, since an abductee or contactee merely needs to be useful.
If an alien faction finds it strategically valuable, their human subject may be healed, saved from freak accidents, or given financial assistance via arranged opportunities — whatever keeps them doing whatever it is that benefits the alien agenda. It matters little whether these groups are benevolent or malevolent; either benefit from protecting their asset. The healing can even be used as a bargaining chip or promise to gain obedience. So we have to be mindful of that possibility.
But to understand why some people get healed and protected and others do not, we may need to expand our perspective beyond the alien sphere by also including data from metaphysical research concerning the afterlife, principles of karma, and destiny.
For example, besides the utilitarian aspect of simply protecting an asset or taking out a threat, what if their actions can only be done within the parameters of what is permitted by metaphysical or karmic laws?
Maybe they cannot heal someone if the person is “meant to” go through an illness or injury, per his or her chosen learning path.
Maybe they cannot simply eliminate someone if it’s not yet that person’s “time to go.”
Maybe the incarnating soul is of alien origin and has agreed on the mission only if they get some help from their alien friends should something go wrong (like healing an unplanned meningitis infection).
While the metaphysical aspect adds a new dimension of complexity, it may help answer some big questions as well.
A Healing Encounter with an Extraterrestrial
By Nadine Lalich
Of my many recollections of extraterrestrial encounters, only one interaction appeared specifically directed to healing me. It occurred in 1962 when I was ten years old and is the earliest conscious memory that I have of ET contact.
It was customary for me to go to bed at 9:00 p.m. each night, but my mother, father, and older brother would usually remain in the living room watching television. On this particular evening, I had gone to bed at the regular time, but awoke several hours later and walked back to the living room. There, I found my family still sitting in front of the television, but the room was dark. They were strangely slumped over with their eyes partly open or closed as if they were in a trance. The television was still on but now displaying the typical 1950’s station symbol indicating the end of programming for that day. It also produced a low droning sound, and I remember wondering at the time if the ETs could use it to control us.
It was summertime, and the front door had been left open with the wooden screen door locked. I stared through the screen into the darkness and saw a UFO hovering above the street that extended over the houses on both sides of the road. A beam of light was directed from the craft onto the ground, and I knew that someone was coming to see me. A minute or two later, he was standing on our front porch, and I opened the door for him to enter. Walking past my sleeping family, we went into the dining room, and I sat down in a chair while he stood beside me. The man looked odd to me with his white skin, short, stocky frame, and a head that was disproportionately large for his body. His eyes were slanted, and his ears large and pointed. In his large, full mouth, he held a small tubular instrument between his lips.
For several reasons, at the time, our home environment was chaotic and difficult at best. I knew immediately that the visitor could read my mind and that he was aware I was suffering emotionally from the situation. As he stood before me, he asked me telepathically if I wanted to have my pain taken away. Although I was not afraid of him, I was in shock by his presence and did not respond. He then lifted one of my arms and placed my wrist against the apparatus he was holding. At the same time, he touched the top of my head with his other hand, and a great shock went through me. My head fell backward, and I let out a scream. It was an invasive feeling as if he had stepped right into my mind and could peer into every corner of my brain to see all of my memories. After about a minute, the emotional intensity began to subside, as if the energy attached to the memories was slowly draining away. He held my head in that position for another minute, then withdrew his hands, and my head fell forward.
Emotionally, I felt greatly relieved and more at peace, and he seemed pleased by what he had done. Then, abruptly, he walked out of the door and disappeared into the darkness. It was a rare experience for me, in that I felt the extraterrestrial had contacted me solely for altruistic reasons. It was also the only time that I can recall ever seeing his species. Regarding my recollections of contact with other extraterrestrials, although they have outwardly appeared to be for their purposes and not mine, I cannot be certain because of the huge differences between our species. Perhaps over time, we will see a greater purpose to these encounters that may serve us all. Only time will tell.