It was beginning to look as though the pain, which caused my vision to blur and my head to throb violently, would never go away. It had been six weeks since my accident.

Like most accidents, it had occurred at home. Fortunately, I had not been alone. My son had come over to borrow my grill, and my grandson, Gavin, was with him. Of course, it was Gavin’s firetruck which I tripped over causing me to hit my head on the corner of the coffee table. I was still out cold when the ambulance arrived. After three days in the hospital and I had started to come around, the doctor informed me I’d suffered a concussion in a rare portion of my brain.

I’d not felt normal since returning home. For one thing, if I closed my eyes for a second, images would pop up behind my lids. Sometimes, it was just patterns and wild colors, and other times it was various objects or faces. Occasionally, it was letters and words, but no matter how hard I tried; I had not been able to make out a complete sentence. Each day the words were getting clearer.

Another strange thing happened when I was driving. It often felt as though I was two people instead of one. When I thought about whether I should go grocery shopping, do some other errand, or just go home, I couldn’t decide. Somehow, I knew it would be decided for me at the right moment. It always was because the car would turn at the proper spot, and drive me there. I felt as if I wasn’t the one controlling the wheel.

I was having strange dreams too. Some were almost like the descriptions of experiences others had told of having while taking LSD. They were vivid. I was visiting places I’d never been or even seen in pictures on television or in books. Sometimes the things I saw in my dreams would actually occur the following day.

When I watched the news on television, I felt I understood the characters of those I saw and I knew exactly what they were thinking. Some of the feelings I got when looking at them frightened me. I was sure I knew instantly if they were someone who could be trusted or not.

I was starting to hear voices and although I strained, I had trouble making out what was being said. I wondered if the concussion had caused me to go off my rocker. I was pretty sure if I told anyone this, they would insist I see a psychiatrist. 

I could have possibly passed it off as something not to worry about, if it had not been for what occurred next. I had just dressed for bed and turned off the lights, when suddenly the whole room was lit up again, this time with a much brighter blueish light. It was almost blinding, but it illuminated the figure of a man. Something inside of me resonated, and I felt I had known him always, although I’d never seen him before. I instinctively knew he was there to help clear up what was going on with me, and that I had no reason to be afraid.

I’m not sure if he spoke aloud, or if he communicated with me telepathically. He told me during the accident, serotonin had seeped into a part of my brain that is seldom injured in an accident. Because of this it had opened up a portal which allowed me to communicate with beings of another dimension. He warned me that I might also be in contact with those who were dangerous and destructive. He told me to be wise and make sure I was able to discern the difference before believing anything being said.

He informed me the dimension he is from exists parallel to ours, and although they are able to observe and interact with our world, the human brain has been sealed in such a way we aren’t supposed to be aware they exist. He said there was a time when man and the creatures of the other dimension were free to interact, but because so many men were being seduced over to the darker side, it became necessary that man no longer had access to this realm. Only in the case of a certain type of brain injury was it possible for the seal to be broken and communication restored.

He told me there are others like me, but many of them have chosen to believe lies spun by the darker side, causing them to spread their beliefs throughout the media. He said at least a third of the population has been mesmerized by falsehoods. He told me that our world is now in a crisis stage, and the times in which we live are the most dangerous in human history.

“Are your people at war with these others who spread the lies?” I asked.

“Not war as you know war,” he said. “It is a war of ideals. We aren’t able to physically harm them, as yet. In the future, we think it will be possible to eliminate them. Our ways must pass the test of time.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps. We will see. It depends. If we find you can be trusted, we will allow the communication to remain open. Record your dreams and what your eyes see, as this might be the safest way to reach you. You are always visible to me. I am a watchman, and in times of need I’m authorized to act. Until I materialize again, be careful.”

With that the light faded, and he was gone along with the pain I’d felt earlier. I was left with a sleepless night ahead, as visions of what I’d just witnessed replayed over and over in my mind.