
In 1987, I was in a Little Professor bookstore, I think it was, in a mall in Fort Lauderdale, and saw a display of books with a compelling cover: that of an alien, a grey. The title? Communion, by Whitley Strieber. I picked it up, read the back cover, the inside flap, and bought the book immediately.
I had read Strieber’s fiction and thought that his novel, The Hunger, was one of the best vampires stories I’d ever read. My editor at the time, Chris Cox at Ballantine, was close friends with Susan Sarandon, who played a major role in the film version of the book, and gave us the insider scoop of the filming of Strieber’s novel. A good synchro!
When that cover of Communion stopped me in my tracks, I suddenly felt there was a connection between the vampires he’d written about in The Hunger and whatever lay at the core of Communion. This was purely an intuitive conclusion, I had no facts to back it up because I hadn’t yet read Communion.
I raced home with my book and started reading. Two sittings and I was done. My worldview was permanently altered. It’s no small thing when a book – or a movie, a person, an event, even a thought or a dream – suddenly and profoundly alters what you feel and believe to be true about yourself and the reality you inhabit.
Please understand, neither Rob nor I have ever been abducted by an alien or a human. To our knowledge, weird experiments have never been performed on either of us. But in the mid to late 1980s, we were writing for the UFO section of OMNI Magazine and as a result, spent a UFO conference weekend with Betty Hill, accompanied Budd Hopkins to a regression session with an abductee, and met a number of individuals who believed they had been abducted and experimented upon by what Strieber refers to as visitors. We believed then as we do now that the entire phenomenon – aliens, abductions, contact – actually addresses the nature of reality.
Now, 25 years after the publication of Communion, Strieber has published Solving the Communion Enigma. It’s stunning. In reading this, I have the same sense that I did when we spent a weekend with Betty Hill; Strieber’s experiences enabled him to penetrate a level of reality that few of us ever see.
The individuals who go there, who move behind what I think of as a veil, sometimes lose the capacity to distinguish between real life and illusion. That’s what happened to Betty Hill. Every light in the sky was a UFO; during the weekend we spent with her, she even took us outside and showed us the lights. See that? See this? It’s them. The nurse who accompanied her to that UFO conference remarked that her life was based on paranoia.
But with Strieber, there’s an undeniable grounding, a center, a focus that Betty lacked. Maybe Betty had that focus when Barney was still alive, but when we met her, Barney had been dead for a number of years. Strieber’s wife, Anne, isn’t just his partner; she’s his measurement of what is true and genuine, his rock, his reality check, his compass.
When I had read Communion, I remember wondering how Strieber’s wife and son were affected; this book answers some of those questions. But it also answers a whole lot of other questions. Why did Strieber experience what he did with the visitors? How could it be that these experiences dated all the way back to the early childhood? Was he chosen? Or was he invited and chose to accept? What opened him up intuitively so that he would be able to see what others don’t about the visitors?
Destiny versus free will. The questions you ask versus the ones you yearn to ask but never articulate.
Strieber is a Gemini; I used his chart as an example in a book I wrote some years ago on astrology and creativity. Gemini’s MO is to question everything- and communicate what you discover. He has done that. Every step of the way through his strange journey, he has questioned: What do I feel? What does this mean? How does this fit into my concept of reality? What’s really going on here? How can I write about this?
In the new book, Strieber speculates that the visitors may be connected in some way to the dead, to the afterlife. In one visitor encounter he saw an old friend who had already passed on. Other abductees we’ve talked to have also experienced this phenomenon. It may be more common than we know. And that’s the thing with Strieber’s work. He’s defining new archetypes and has been doing it since his first encounters in 1985. But he isn’t doing it alone, that’s apparent in this book.
Anne catalogs this material and seems to have an eidetic memory for specifics. Ask her about 3:33 AM in abduction lore. Ask her about threes in abduction scenarios. Ask her about the half a million letters Strieber received from abductees and contactees. Their relationship is a true partnership, the melding of two brains, two souls.
In Solving the Communion Enigma, Strieber takes us into dark, eerie places, just as Betty Hill and Budd Hopkins did. The difference is that Strieber has such a facility with language, with articulating complex emotions and concepts, that you come away from this book realizing that we, as a species, must make a quantum leap in consciousness if we are to survive whatever comes next. Strieber is a true pioneer. He’s exploring for those of us who are terrified of venturing into this unknown.