One odd thing about this childhood home: whenever I think about it, which isn’t too often, I remember my bedroom as being on the second floor.
We didn’t have a second floor. It was a one story house.
I had a couple of strange memories from living in that house in L.A. (Bedford Dr.) and with both memories, I remember being on the second floor. One memory is of the “Master Cylinder Heater.” I was frightened to death, seeing this thing in my bedroom. It was very tall, robotic, gray and black and a bit of glowing red, with thin ribbon type things floating out from its sides. It was not a good thing.
Years later, when thinking of this, I naturally assumed it was a dream, mixed up with a heater either in my bedroom or somewhere in the house. I described this thing to my mother about ten years ago — she told me there was no such thing like that anywhere in the house.
I really need to redo this. The cylinder was wider, but still tall, and the ribbons or whatever they were were different colors, like pale greens and yellows and pinks, as well as black and gray.
I wrote about this encounter in my Trickster’s Realm column on Tim Binnall’s site, Binnall of America (BOA.):
The Cylinder Alien Heater
I’ve been experimenting recently with intent in context of retrieving the vague parts of memories of various UFO events in my life. Two things that I keep coming back to is the idea of dreams and memories. “Dreams” that I only call dreams because we all know such things don’t really happen, yet I don’t recall any other dreams from childhood. Those have receded into the past. Only two have followed me into adulthood, bumping against my consciousness with persistence, insisting they did happen just as I thought — not dreamt.
One such memory is of what I’ve always called the breathing radiator. Unlike the usual dream — where you know it’s a dream, no matter how weird — this, like a few others that fall in this category, is not a dream, but a solid and definite memory.
This memory of the breathing radiator is of a cylindrical heater, about six feet in height or so, dull silver colored in my bedroom. At the time, we lived on Bedford Street in Los Angeles, California, a few blocks from the house we moved to a couple years later and lived in until my mother sold it when I was in my twenties. (At that house I experienced all kinds of UFO experiences, as well as the house we lived in before the Bedford house. That house, on Corning Street, was just a few blocks away as well. It seems that neighborhood, near the West L.A., Culver City area, was an attractant for UFO activity.) I hated to go to sleep in the bedroom on Bedford because I knew that when the lights went out the silver thing would come for me. I remember night after night of watching this thing move across the room, towards my bed, telling me telepathically to be quiet.
I had always assumed this thing was a heater. The cylinder stood by itself; not in a wall or closet but out in the room. It had a grilled plate in the front, glowing lights, and colored ribbons that moved when the air from within came on. I recently asked my mother if there was anything like that in my room on Bedford, she told me she couldn’t remember but didn’t think so; she agreed it would have been an odd kind of thing to have in a bedroom.
I don’t associate this weird cylinder as having anything to do with UFOs but it’s always felt like it has. Like my childhood eagle “dream” and patio alien with the glowing red eyes, this memory of the cylinder entity was always in the box labeled in thick black letters: “UFO Stuff — You Know It!”
As anyone who’s experienced UFOs, Fortean or paranormal knows, synchronicity and the Trickster show up when we explore our esoteric experiences. Out of curiosity, I did a Google search for “Bedford street, Los Angeles, California” and the first item that came up was a real estate listing for the house I lived in as a child! There were a couple dozen photographs of the house, but, no silver cylinder “alien” radiator.