FORMS DANCING ON THE SEA

May 1991: On the night of the full moon at about 3:00 am, I went down to the beach, which is opposite where I live. I go there periodically to find some peace. On this occasion there was a fresh wind. This and the effect of the moon were virtually calling us out of the house. I find it very difficult to sleep on such nights.

Spontaneously, I began to run up and down the beach, close to the sea. There was a kind of wild joy in this, as if somehow my running, the crashing waves and the effect of the wind and moon were all part of one movement. Temporarily I was free from the predominance of rational, discriminative thought.

Then something which I can only describe by a comparison to one of Escher's prints began to happen, a sort of perpetual metamorphosis. I began to see dark, moving shapes, appearing to dance on the water. They seemed to correspond with the ripples on the water itself. At first I doubted what I was beginning to see. A slight shift of focus and these entities would vanish (if that's what they were), and yet with a slight readjustment, a slight relaxation, the forms would be back.

The focusing and vividity of these forms, in my perception, corresponded at this point with shifts between doubt and the suspension of my disbelief. This probably took place over a few minutes. The doubt or fear of what I was seeing was sufficient to eliminate it, bringing back ordinary "ripples" on an ordinary sea. Yet acceptance brought these dark, dancing forms more into focus. Something else seemed to be involved in this act of perception, a relaxing in my forehead. I allowed whatever was going to happen to happen.

They were like people, but not exactly people. They didn't seem to have a solid shape, but rather seemed to flow from one shape to the next as quickly as swapping partners in a flirtation dance. Ar one point, they were little black triangles in file, executing impossibly exact figure eights on the sea's surface. Circles and figure eights seemed to be a favorite configuration on this and other occasions. Only a few days later, while observing the sails of the spinnakers, did I realize that the small black triangles were like miniatures by comparison. Then there was something that kept leaping in and out of the water, executing a circle as it did so. It also seemed like they were having a party (!); there was such constant, fast, fluid movement. It also seemed as if this was something I was being allowed to see, like a gift.

As I watched, these moving forms became more and more vivid. They were not very far away from me, but as I was sitting down they were somewhat higher. I began to get a bit nervous, and eventually stood up and left.

For over what was about a month, I'd occasionally go down to the beach at different times of the day and night, in the hope/fear of seeing "them," the "elementals," as I named them, thinking that was probably what they were, if they existed. Sometimes during the day I'd spot them without really meaning to, even when children and grandparents were playing in the water. They were never in sharp focus, and like the waves themselves, they were always in a flurry. I could never be sure that what I was seeing, or not seeing, was real.

One morning shortly after dawn, I walked down to the beach having had not sleep (though not because of this subject). I was feeling as one sometimes does in such circumstances, pleasantly drained, not only of energy but of excess mental activity. Sure enough, at a glance, there they were on the left side of the mole. They seemed to be schooling around the tip to the other side, though anyone else would have seen, I'm sure, just some fairly normal current activity. These beings were never quite as in focus or as frightening as on that first night, when I expected nothing. I walked onto the mole and up for a closer look. They seemed to be heading towards the next mole, near the yacht club. As I left the mole and walked hurriedly along the beach, it occurred to me that I was acting like a foolish child, "chasing faeries." It also occurred to me that maybe I was being fooled by some trick of the light at that hour. Sure enough, the shoal seemed to recede from the shoreline as I reached the spot where I would have been able to get a clearer view.

I walked back along the beach a little frustrated, caught between curiosity and a sense of my own foolishness. Stopping to look out to sea for any change in the conditions there, I saw what appeared to be a tribe of little blue men. They were the color of the sea and were standing on the water (hence, barely visible), several yards out and facing me in a slightly concave formation. They were holding spears, or possibly long staffs. I observed them briefly, then walked on.

I had grown weary and I resolved, after that episode, not to goo on seeking out these phenomenon. The act of doing so was taking me away from my center, drawing me off balance. I did not feel threatened by these blue people, but retrospectively I think that their stance was a "warding off," telling me to mind my own business and to leave them to get on with theirs.
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From "The Communion Letters" by Whitley Strieber