For some reason, I wasn't afraid. I guess I simply felt like an ambassador as I looked at the alien in front of me. I wasn't particularly brave; I was just doing what was right by engaging this strange creature with civility.
It was handsome, though I'm confident that I was seeing some sort of high-tech mask or illusion rather than its real features. Though it was wearing a normal shirt, I could tell that its "chest" consisted of tentacles and tubes.
Again, though, that didn't bother me.
The alien was trying to help me not be afraid. It asked me to look at its face as it showed me a bit more what it really looked like. Now, instead of two eyes, there were five. I let my eyes unfocus, let my brain play tricks on me, and I saw only two.
I was becoming accustomed to this otherworldly creature, seeing it as normal, as a friend.
Later that night, as it was resting on a couch, it quietly confessed to me that they were actually our enemies, and were going to destroy us. That meant a lot to me, that this alien would entrust me with this information.
The next day I found myself driving in a car, or maybe I was witnessing someone else driving a car, and an alien was commandeering the vehicle from a distance, bent on steering it over a cliff or into a tree.
Then I woke up.
It must've been like 3 in the morning. I was sweating, oddly enjoying the drama but sobered by how real it seemed.
Then something unexpected came to my 3-in-the-morning mind: There are sentient creatures who lurk around us, who are not human but who interact with us from time to time, who give the appearance of being harmless, but who mean us harm. There are aliens who've come to this planet with a secretive mission to destroy us: fallen angels. Demons.
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