Table Of ContentThe Forgotten Promise:
Rejoining Our Cosmic
Family
by Sherry Wilde
Table of Contents
Title Page
Introduction
Prologue: It Starts with One
Chapter One:
Losing Normal
Chapter Two:
Unanswered Questions
Chapter 3:
Losing My Innocence
Chapter 4:
Living in the House of Mirrors
Chapter 5:
That’s No Angel. That’s an Alien!
Chapter 6:
Blue Lights & Bruises
Chapter 7:
Scattered Puzzle Pieces
Chapter 8:
Living with One Foot in Another Dimension
Chapter 9:
Please, Just Put Me in a Padded Room
Chapter 10:
Lessons from the 7th Dimension
Chapter 11:
What Are You Doing Back Here?
Chapter 12:
Awaking from the Dream
Epilogue:
The Forgotten Promise
About the Author
Timeline
This is the story of one woman’s
lifelong interaction with beings
from another world and her
journey to go beyond the fear to
find meaning and purpose.
In this book she explores the
abduction experience and shares
with you the Three Important
Things they insisted she learn.
For Marion
I hope you found the answers.
For Vicky
For never—not once—doubting
me.
And for Wanda
My port in a storm, my guiding
light,
my wise and knowing sister
I love you beyond words!
Introduction
This is my story. I cannot prove any of what you are about to read but neither
do I feel the need to convince you of its validity. It will either resonate with
you, or it will not. For years I was encouraged to write about these
experiences, but I resisted. It never felt right to make public such a personal
and highly controversial episode from my life. For some reason, however, it
suddenly became clear to me that now was the time to bring it out of the
closet.
This is not an easy story for me to write, and it might not be easy for you to
read or believe. I understand that. It will not be told in chronological order
but will be told much in the same way as if I was sitting and visiting with you
over a cup of coffee. A timeline has been added at the back of the book for
you to reference if needed.
I want to emphasis that it is my story, and I’ve done my very best to keep
others out of it—that is, family and friends who were peripherally involved—
but it is impossible to tell the truth about what happened without including
some facts about others’ involvement. I did my level best to keep those parts
to a minimum, especially those involving my children.
One of the first things I am asked after talking with others about this
phenomenon is “Why you? What’s so special about you?”
My answer is simple: Nothing. There is truly nothing special about me or my
family. It is my belief that most of the people in this world have had at least
one encounter with a being from another dimension or planet. Personally, I
find it easier to think of them as coming from another dimension. Even
though the beings I interacted with appeared to be transported here in a
spaceship of some sort, I don’t believe that distinction is worth exploring.
If you are drawn to this book, then it may very well be that you have had an
inter-dimensional encounter, but the memory of that encounter is shielded
from your consciousness for your own sanity. Trying to integrate these kinds
of events into your life and still live what the world would consider a
“normal” life is pretty much impossible. Even if you come to terms with what
is happening to you, there is always the looming question of why. It is the
reason so many alleged abductees are drawn to a path that takes them on a
spiritual journey.
This book is not only a recounting of my experiences but also the story of
how I discovered that, like most things, it is possible to turn the worst thing in
your life into something positive just by choosing to look at it from a
different perspective.
Prologue: It Starts with One
Backyard Abduction—1958—Rural Wisconsin
I couldn’t have been more than eight years old. My younger brother and I
were out behind our house playing on the sandstone rocks. My parents told
me years later that they’d made a conscious decision to keep us somewhat
isolated and protected from mainstream society—and we certainly were. It
was the mid-1950s, and it was an altogether different world than it is now.
We lived on a 120-acre non-working dairy farm that had a half-mile-long
driveway off a little gravel road. We were a twenty-minute drive from the
nearest village, and I attended a one-room schoolhouse until fourth grade at
which time I underwent the traumatizing experience of being transferred into
“town school.”
It was an idyllic life. I had three siblings: a brother two years older than me,
another brother one year younger, and my baby sister who came along when I
was five. We were pushed out the door every summer morning and not
allowed back into the house until lunch, and then out the door we would go
again until dark. We ran the hills, played in the haymow, made forts, climbed
trees, and splashed in the creek that ran through our valley farm. In the
winter, we were bundled up and sent out the door to walk the three miles to
school. (Yes, it actually was three miles.)
I remember my mother’s warning, “Do not, no matter how tired you get, stop
and lay down in the snow to sleep. You will freeze and never wake up!”
My father wasn’t a farmer. He tried, but it just wasn’t his calling. Instead, he
went to work as a Greyhound bus driver. He was gone a lot.
Behind our house was a fence line that stretched all the way down the valley
to our nearest neighbor. We could barely see their place from our upstairs
window. My mother’s garden was out there, and if we didn’t stay out of her
way, she’d put us to work pulling weeds, so we would disappear into the hills
that surrounded our home. On this hot summer day, my younger brother and I
were out behind the garden playing on the flat sandstone rocks. A fine
assortment of berries grew wild in that area, and every now and then we’d
break from our play long enough to go grab a handful.
My older brother was not with us, which was typical. He liked to go off by
himself, fishing or exploring in the woods. I was standing in the tall grass,
facing the gooseberry bush that grew along the fence, picking the berries and
popping them into my mouth. The crisp sour taste of the berry was not my
favorite, but I loved to make them pop and feel my mouth water as it reacted
to the strong flavor.(I remember all of this as if it were yesterday.)
It was very hot and humid—almost claustrophobic. The buzzing of the
insects was very loud in my ears and added to the feeling of closeness. There
was no breeze, and I swatted away the mosquito’s as they came close to my
face or landed on my arms. I was focused on getting as many gooseberries
into my mouth in as short a time as possible since I wanted to get back to my
brother who was waiting over in the shade on the rocks.
I was plucking away with both hands, quickly picking a berry, popping it into
my mouth, and going for the next one. Both hands were moving quickly over
the bush, taking the easiest and ripest berries.
Suddenly, there was a change in the temperature. The hot stifling air, which
only a moment before had felt as if it was going to suffocate me, turned
noticeably cooler and the loud buzzing abruptly stopped. There was dead
silence. I froze. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as a chill ran down
my spine. I knew someone was standing behind me.
My heart was beating loudly in my chest as I slowly started to turn around.
Strong hands came down on my shoulders and stopped me from moving. A
gentle voice said my name and warned me not to turn around—as if I could
with his hands firmly keeping me in place.
My mind raced as I tried to figure out who this could be. An uncle? A
neighbor? And then a terrifying thought—a stranger?
But he had said my name. And his voice was somewhat familiar to me. There
wasn’t much time to consider all this because he started to talk to me in that
same gentle tone. It calmed me a lot to hear that voice.
Artist: Helen Endres
