childhoodaliens
My Childhood Invisible Aliens, oil pastel, pencil, ink on paper

This is a rendering of the front door entryway of my childhood home in Los Angeles, California. When I was little, I would wait for my “friends” — beings, barely seen, that would come to me as I waited in my bed at night. They would float me out the hall door to the front door, where I would “dance” with them before they floated me out through the front door and place me high up in the large fir tree in our neighbor’s front yard. There, I’d wait for the ship to arrive, where I’d go off with them. Except, I barely remember seeing the aliens — they were there, but barely visible. And after the ship’s arrival, I don’t remember anything after that. Just sitting in the tree, feeling very excited, and looking at the incredible sparkling stars in the Prussian blue sky.