What I do with the waitress under
the name of clandestine services
We grabbed hold of each other and were going to get out of the car, but what could we do for that poor woman? She was floating in midair in a bright beam of whitish blue light. She was then brought up into the bottom of that very large oval (about three quarters the size of the building across). This poor person was escorted out of her window. I don’t know if she was willing or not. I don’t think so, because it seemed as though she was being escorted up into this thing by three ugly but smaller human-like creatures, one above her and two below. They seemed to be in charge. On top of our fear of getting involved, we were also carrying a load of guilt because we didn’t help her and we don’t know what’s become of her. After she was escorted up and in, the oval turned reddish-orange again and whisked away, coming in our direction, above us. It must have flown over the FDR Drive while we were sitting underneath it. It then plunged into the river behind us, not far from Pier 17, behind the Brooklyn Bridge.
Someone else had to see what happened that morning. I know what we saw.