Sherry Wilde - Forgotten Promise: Rejoining Our Cosmic Family

The Forgotten Promise:

Rejoining Our Cosmic Family

by Sherry Wilde

Table of Contents

This is the story of one womans 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 nevernot oncedoubting 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 Ive done my very best to keep others out of itthat is, family and friends who were peripherally involvedbut 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? Whats 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 dont 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 Abduction1958Rural Wisconsin

I couldnt 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 theyd made a conscious decision to keep us somewhat isolated and protected from mainstream societyand 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 mothers 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 wasnt a farmer. He tried, but it just wasnt 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 mothers garden was out there, and if we didnt stay out of her way, shed 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 wed 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 humidalmost 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 mosquitos 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 aroundas 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 wasnt 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

What are you doing? he said.

Picking gooseberries, I replied.

Why?

To eat, I said in a barely audible voice.

What do they taste like?

Kinda sour, I whispered.

Do you like them? he asked. No.

He chuckled and said, Then why are you eating them?

Because... why cant I turn around? I pleaded.