Missing Time on Highway 62 &A Wave of Missing Time Events that Swept Across the CE-5 Contact Network

A virtuoso display of ET intelligence’s psi capability was demonstrated in December of 1993. CE-5 Initiative activists in Denver, then Los Angeles and finally Phoenix had missing time experiences over a several week period. These strange events remarkably followed Dr. Greer’s path across the Western US as he established CE-5 Working Groups.

The first missing time episode was first experienced by CSETI member Ron Russell in Denver. Several weeks later Dr. Burkes and another contact worker had missing time on Highway 62 while driving back from fieldwork. That same week Wayne Peterson’s team of seven reported having double missing time in the middle of the desert outside of Phoenix.

This amazing sequence of events followed exactly in the path Dr. Greer took in establishing contact teams across the Western United States. The first team under Shari Adamiak’s leadership was set up in 1991 in Denver. In August of 1992, the CSETI Director established a Los Angeles team, and in December of that year the Phoenix team went into action under Wayne Peterson’s leadership.

In my opinion, a powerful message was being sent to our network of contact workers. To make sure that we got the message, the number of experiencers targeted for missing time increased, from one in Denver, two in Los Angeles and finally to seven in Phoenix.

This highly coordinated demonstration of astounding psychic ability indicates that UFO intelligence is extremely well prepared for interacting with mankind in general and especially the loose network of activists that I call the “Contact Underground.” . As veteran UFOlogist Stanton Friedman has said, “the ETs did not just fall off the cabbage wagon.”

The Event Occurred After a UFO Field Investigation

On December 26 1993 following an all-night field work session at Joshua Tree National Monument, Misha (a pseudonym) and I drove back to Los Angeles. We left the Arco station in outskirts of Yucca at 6 AM. The trip ordinarily takes about 3 and half hours in traffic. On the day following Christmas there was almost no traffic on the 10 Freeway. Misha took advantage of the nearly deserted highway to drive home at high speed. His powerful Nissan Maxima effortlessly cruised while we were still in the desert at speeds between 80 and 90 miles an hour. On arriving home, I was surprised to see the time was 10 AM. Fatigued from the night’s sky watch activities, I didn’t give it much thought. Later I realized that at our very high speed the trip back from the desert should have been little more than two hours.

Back in 93, Misha and I were still working together at the Kaiser Panorama City Medical Center. Over breakfast several days later in the basement cafeteria, I noticed that Misha looked ill at ease. He commented that it had taken too long for us to get home. “I think we had missing time in the desert,” he said.” The image of my electric clock flashing 10:00 AM echoed through my mind. Indeed, it had taken us four hours to drive home. I confessed to Misha, “I think you may be right.” This is an account of the high strangeness events that occurred during our journey back from Joshua Tree on December 26, 1993.

It was Christmas week and all of our Los Angeles CE-5 Initiative field investigators were busy with family or were out of town. On Christmas day, Misha and I went out into the field hoping to recapitulate our Veterans Day encounter in which we had a two-hour interactive encounter with UFOs. What happened during our fieldwork on Christmas Day was far stranger than I could have expected.

The desert was dark, cold and still. The absence of wind was a blessing. The temperature dropped into the low 30s. Misha parked his car 3 miles north of the circle road at a “backboard” located on Old Geology Road. Backboards are wilderness parking lots built by the Park Service for campers hiking into the backcountry. Each visitor is required to register the location of their chosen camping site and the time of their expected return. This is to enable the Rangers to send out search parties if one doesn’t return to the backboard on time.

Once we set up camp near the base of Queen Mountain, the site felt terribly empty. The anticipation of contact that is experienced as a kind of emotional buzz was sadly absent. I led a half-hearted guided meditation. I scanned the research site with my eyes, while my mind reached out for the “presence of consciousness.“

PRESENCE OF CONSCIOUSNESS

The best way to explain the term “presence of consciousness “is by describing a game most people play enjoyed during childhood. While playing hide and seek one typically enters a room and senses that a playmate is hiding there. It is a kind of knowingness. Holding one’s breath and listening for a telltale giggle, often no one appears in sight. Nevertheless, there is a kind of certainty that someone else is truly there. In a similar way, one can experience the “presence of consciousness” during fieldwork. This awareness of not being alone is also described as simply as the presence of “mind.”

Back to our field work in Joshua Tree, I snuggled in my sleeping bag trying to keep warm. A ground tarp separated me from the cold desert sand. I must have dozed off around 2 AM. The next thing I heard was Misha moving around the campsite. He was packing up. I looked at my watch; it was only 4 AM, a good three hours before daybreak.

I was perplexed by Misha’s unannounced decision to break camp. Often contact events take place late into the night. If a sighting were to take place this night, now was our chance. What’s up Misha?” I asked. “What’s the rush?” He offered no explanation. Singularly focused on packing, he answered in monosyllables. “Let’s go!” was all he offered. This was the fourth time we had ventured out together at Joshua Tree. I had never seen him in such a rush to go. I figured he had his reasons.

One hundred miles to the west in their cozy apartment, I envisioned Misha’s beautiful fiancée Renata dreamily awaiting his return. I thought of my youth and first love. I met Yael, my future wife when I was just 17. “Oh to be young and in love!” I mused. Passionate thoughts of his Slavic beauty might be fueling Misha’s rush to go home. Not ready to call it quits, I suggested that we do some light work before departing. “Maybe we can still have a sighting.” I suggested.

But Misha just continued packing in silence. After hiking along a dry stream bed, we arrived at the backboard. With some reluctance, I helped Misha load our equipment into the back of his Nissan Maxima. Well, at least he would be doing the driving. I could finish my nap on the ride back to Los Angeles. Partial overcast blocked out most of the stars. In near pitch darkness, we drove down to the village of Joshua Tree. Little did I know, what or who might be waiting for us on further down the road on highway 62.

It was well before 6 AM when we cruised along the empty streets of the Yucca Valley. Misha took great heed not drive over the limit. Many tourists have paid dearly to the local police that set up speed traps for unsuspecting motorists. On the outskirts of town, an ancient Toyota sports car slowly passed us. It was a two-seater, the kind built in the late 1960s and looked like an imitation of the British “Triumph. “At the only gas station that was open, we filled up the car and checked the oil. We then took turns going to what must have been the most malodorous rest room in the Yucca Valley.

STRANGE LIGHTS FOLLOW US IN THE RAVINE

A few minutes later, we passed through the Morongo Valley. There highway 62 turns sharply downward into a narrow ravine several miles long. During the winter storms, rockslides can break loose from the steep cliffs. In this canyon there are no exits till just north of Desert Hot Springs.

Hurtling down through the gorge, Misha drew my attention to a pair of headlights following us. The winding course through the ravine allows for visibility of only a few hundred yards in either direction. I looked back and initially saw nothing. I waited. Sure enough, a few moments later, rounding a turn, an ordinary pair of headlights appeared. “It’s just a car Misha. “I said.

He replied, “There’s something funny about it Joe.”

He later confided in me that an amber light had suddenly appeared in between the headlights. We sped around another turn in the ravine. I looked back and again saw nothing. I assumed that the vehicle was simply obscured by another turn in the road. Misha later revealed to me that the object that I thought was a car, appeared to “lift right off the road.” I don’t know whether to thank him or not for this omission. In retrospect, I assume that nothing we said or did could alter what was about to occur.

As we continued down Highway 62, even stranger things started happening. We reached the point where the ravine opens up to a spectacular vista. Before us suddenly appeared a panoramic view of the desert at night. Directly facing us, some 15 miles away loomed an enormous wall of granite, San Jacinto Mountain. To the southeast the flat desert floor stretched out for some 30 miles. The lights from resort village of Desert Hot Springs twinkled on our left. It was a mere 5 miles away. Further to the southeast, tucked up against the base of the mountains, we could see the lights of Palm Springs shimmering in the distance.

Heading south on highway 62 there is solitary hill on the west side of the pavement as one emerges from the canyon. Here the narrow road broadens to become a divided highway with a grassy island separating the traffic. The hillock on the right side of the road is less than one hundred feet high. Separated from the entrance to the gorge by only a few dozen yards, the hill stands like a lonely watchtower guarding the passageway to the ravine.

By December 1993, I must have passed that desolate mound of rocks and dirt a dozen times. It is not particularly noteworthy. There were no houses or roads on its steep slopes. There were no aircraft warning beacons on its dirt-covered crest. On this particular morning however, the hillock appeared strangely different. First of all, it seemed as if it had nearly doubled in size. Like a blacked-out skyscraper, it towered over the right side of the roadway. In addition, there was a solitary non-blinking red light on its crest. As we speed down the highway at about 60 miles per hour. I immediately drew Misha’s attention to the light. “Hey Misha, I don’t remember any light ever being up there.” I rolled my window down and got ready with the signal lantern.

Overhead in the darkened sky, there were a surprising number of lights flying around. It seemed strange that the day after Christmas there would be so many private pilots out flying at 6 AM in the morning. Less than 2 miles away, I saw a typical flashing beacon of what I assumed must have been a small plane. It was slowly moving north into the air space over Joshua Tree National Park. The craft was heading towards the plateau from which Misha and I had just descended. Further in the distance I picked out another aircraft strobe light meandering over Desert Hot Springs. The strangest light of all was a large brilliant white one. It was in the sky over Palm Springs and was accelerating directly towards us at what seemed be a tremendous speed. Again, I thought it odd that a commercial jet would be scheduled to take off so early in the middle of the Christmas Holidays. “Maybe it’s some millionaire playing with his Lear jet.” I postulated.

THE HILLSIDE APPEARED TO DISSOLVE

Frustrated by an uneventful night of fieldwork, I was ready to signal at practically anything. I rolled down the window and fired my 500,000-candle power signal lantern at the stationary red light on top of the hill. The lonely beacon was fixed to a point that was some 20 feet above the crest on the hill. I must admit I felt a little foolish signaling at the solitary light. At the time, I was convinced that there had to be some reasonable explanation for its presence. I had trouble explaining to myself however why I had never seen it before. True to what I imagined was the contact worker’s creed, I was not about to miss an opportunity to interact with something that might be truly anomalous.

With the window down, cold winter air poured into the cabin. Pointing towards the top of the hill, which now seemed to be over 300 feet tall, I let loose with a salvo from my “light bazooka.” There was no reply from the solitary red light.

As the broad bolt of light from the lantern flashed upwards, I muttered under my breath “What the hell!” There was no reflection from the rock face. The beam simply plowed into multitude of boulders on the hillside. Instead of getting a sharp reflected image from the rock face, the section of the hill directly in the center of the beam appeared to dissolve into a kind of hazy white cloud. Amazed, I pulled the trigger of the lantern tight and steady. I saw a portion of the hill some twenty feet across simply turn into mist.

While I was fussing with the light, Misha was still preoccupied with the lights that had been following us in the ravine. He urgently told me to look behind.

“Look Misha “ I said, “it’s just a car! What are you worried about? There are no exits off this stretch of road. Let’s stop the car,” I proposed. “Whatever it is that’s behind us will simply pass by. We’ll get a good look at it and that’ll be the end of it.” Misha had neglected to tell me, was that he had just seen the “car” with three headlights, two white lights and a yellow one in between, gently lift off the road into the air.

Misha slowed down and pulled off onto the gravel shoulder. I still had my cold weather gear on and the open widow was a welcome relief from the car’s heater. Misha was wearing his polypropylene undershirt, but no jacket. He let the engine idle and we sat there. It seemed like a mere 15 or twenty seconds passed when suddenly Misha started shouting at me to close the window. “I’m freezing!” he cried.

In retrospect I thought it strange that Misha would complain about being cold. Born in a small town in White Russia, he seemed to find the Southern California winters mild to a fault. During fieldwork, on more than one occasion, when others complained bitterly about the “freezing” temperature, Misha merrily moved around the campsite with his jacket open. The car window had only been open for less than a minute at most; nevertheless, he made it known in no uncertain terms that he was freezing. I now believe that we had just experienced missing time, the first of two apparent episodes that we were to endure that cold dark morning. I imagine the window must have been down for a much longer than twenty seconds. If Misha’s latter account is credible, he was taken on board spacecraft or at least had memories implanted in his consciousness that made him think so.

I EXPERIENCED A STRANGE SENSE OF MISGIVING

Seated in the passenger’s seat, I recall feeling dazed. I am certain that I did not fall asleep while waiting for the mystery vehicle to pass. It seemed like we had just sat there for only a few moments. As I rolled the window up at Misha’s demand, I experienced a strange sense of misgiving. There was something wrong going on here, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

No car had passed; Misha later confirmed this observation. Without exchanging a word to one another, he accelerated back on to the highway. Given all the activity on the ground, on the hill and in the air, we certainly should have been tracking the lights and making notes of our observations. Such excitement should have kept us busy for some time. Instead like two zombies we drove on in silence down the dark highway. We did not even address the issue of the “car” that never passed us while we waited on shoulder. There were other things that were out of place. I recall no longer seeing the moving lights in the sky that I had assumed were small planes. In what seemed like less than a minute they were gone. There was no sign of the brilliant white light that I had assumed belonged to a Lear jet. The last memory I have of this object was its rapid acceleration towards our position at the entrance to the ravine. The darkness had completely enveloped us, broken only by the faint flickering of stars.

I AM CERTAIN THAT I DID NOT FALL ASLEEP

As we drove towards US 10, the sound of the engine was hypnotic. I looked to the east and watched as the sun’s distant light softly illuminating the black eastern sky. The horizon, like the dying embers of a campfire, glowed a faint red. It was beautiful. Daybreak was still some time off. I listened to the purr of the motor, although tired I am certain that I did not fall asleep.

In what seemed like a flash, it was suddenly broad daylight. The sound of the engine was the same. Just as before, Misha was there at the wheel, but suddenly the sun was quite high in the sky. Something had happened, but what? That particular stretch of highway 62 between the ravine and US 10 is only about 7 miles long. At 65 miles an hour it takes less than 7 minutes to cover the distance. From the height of the sun in the sky, considerably more time must have elapsed. In my dazed state, I had trouble focusing on these details. Reassured by the sound of the motor and the warmth of the car’s heater, I experienced no fear. With San Jacinto Mountain towering above us, we turned on to the superhighway. Straight as an arrow it carried us across the desert towards the megalopolis known as “the city of angels.”

It was the day after Christmas. There was almost no traffic on the road. After making sure that Misha was quite awake and not likely to fall asleep at the wheel, I decided it was safe to take a nap. I told Misha that if he found himself getting sleepy he absolutely must wake me up. Then I would take over. Later he confessed that he took advantage of empty highway to see what his beloved Maxima was really made of. While I dozed, Misha reportedly zoomed down the road at 90 miles per hour. I awoke suddenly from a dreamless sleep. Misha announced that he had to stop for some coffee.

Strong hot coffee in the belly and cold water on his face sufficiently revived Misha to continue driving. In less than 15 minutes we were back on the road. There was increasingly more traffic as we approached LA. We were soon to be treated to another high strangeness experience that I will describe in the next chapter.

“ I THINK WE HAD MISSING TIME IN THE DESERT”

I met Misha for a coffee break in the hospital cafeteria several days after the events of December 26. “I got to tell you something Joe,” he started. “I think we had missing time in the desert.”

I stared at his face long and hard. I sighed and said, “I think you’re right Misha.” The inexplicable events of that early morning began to make sense within the context of a missing time/possible ET contact experience. Misha paused before he delivered the next bombshell. “ I remember being on board.”

Mixed emotions surged through me, a combination of excitement and dismay. “Oh no!” I thought, “This is not what I had bargained for.” I had joined the CE-5 project hoping to have an encounter, as the CSETI Director had advertised, with our team being “in full psychomotor control” of our bodies. We had trained for possible landings as part of a what we imagined was a “citizens’ diplomatic mission.” All the lurid stereotypes of the alien abduction subculture flashed through my mind. Most, but not all of this negative testimony, is derived from hypnotic regressions. Despite its popularity, hypnosis is not magical truth serum that enhances memory. After placing a possible contact experiencer in a highly suggestible state by an authority figure, the hypnotist is able to create false memories by leading the subject.

If Misha remembered an on-board experience did that really mean it physically happened? Did I have an encounter that morning but could not remember it because my memories had been blocked? In the early 1990s, prominent so-called “mainstream ufologists had labelled CSETI’s outreach efforts as the foolishness of a “contactee cult.” Were alien abduction theorists now going to proclaim that we were going into the desert “to get abducted”? How were we to deal with such nasty accusations if team members were experiencing missing time in the course of fieldwork?

The so-called “missing time” phenomenon after all was an integral part of the entire “alien abduction” paradigm that portrayed contact as a criminal act. Dr. Greer in his speeches and writings had characterized such notions as being part and parcel of a “subculture of fear.” Already a growing mythology of “alien genetics experiments” and “babies floating in space” had already become integral part of “mainstream” ufology’s narrative. Nevertheless, there was no solid evidence proving any of these wild claims. They were just stories, of what people remembered spontaneously or recalled under hypnosis.”

I had been attracted to the CE-5 Initiative because its message was so positive, proactive and hopeful. I was afraid that by publicly describing our missing time experience, I would be aiding those that were promoting conflict. In no way did I want to contribute to what I viewed as a “cult of victimhood.” I looked at Misha across my now cold cup of coffee, a Jewish oath of woe passed my lips. “Oy Veh!” I sighed.

But Misha was indomitable. “There’s more Joe. “

He briefly outlined what he believed had transpired some 72 hours before on that cold dark highway. He told me that fragmented memories were starting to come back to him as flashbacks. These recollections presumably filled in the “lost time” during our ride back from Joshua Tree.

Misha was a veteran of numerous close encounters. If his memory of past events in Russia were accurate, he had a long-standing positive relationship with specific group of ETs. This was consistent with his status as a contactee. As far as what happened to him during the lost time on highway 62, he recalled being on board an ET spacecraft, but he could not remember how he was actually taken out of the car. Misha not unexpectedly had an extremely favorable reaction to his most recent “on board experience.”

With no small interest I listened to his description of the stereotypical physical exam provided him by his non-human hosts. The ETs were reportedly the short ones with the big heads known within the UFO subculture as “the grays.” Unlike some abductees who describe this alleged race of aliens as marauding space demons, Misha talked about these strange visitors as if they were family for him.

SPONTANEOUS RECALL OF AN ON-BOARD EXPERIENCE

Over the next few weeks he “downloaded from memory” (series of spontaneous recall experiences) more details of the alleged encounter. He has chosen not to include the particulars of what he remembers in this report. The fact that I was nowhere to be seen on the craft was proof for Misha that I had not been taken. He pointed at me and wickedly snickered, “I went on board, and they left poor Joe in the car.” I was in no position to disagree. I could not remember a goddamn thing during the hour of what seemed like missing time.

One detail of Misha’s accounts perked me up. “You know we stopped twice on that stretch of 62 just before US 10.” This was certainly news to me. I recalled only stopping once when the sky had several lights of what I presumed were the those of planes. I wondered if that second stop might explain the break in continuity of consciousness I experienced just before sunrise. I recalled viewing the faint glow on the eastern horizon. Then suddenly it was broad daylight.

Misha was quite certain about the second stop, although he shared few additional details. Well if indeed we had stopped twice, I suppose it was conceivable that I went on board too. At least Misha had given me some ammunition against his barb about “poor Joe left alone in the car.” Not wanting to be outdone by my contactee buddy, I replied to his good-natured taunting, “It’s simple Misha. They took you on the first stop, and then I was taken on board during our second stop. Then it was my turn to leave ‘poor’ Misha alone in the car. So there!”

This childish banter aside, the missing time experience did present some real problems for me back at the home front. I tried to tell my wife about incident. The response as expected was less than sympathetic. My lovely Yael announced her verdict. It read, “Joe dear, you’re nuts!”

OTHER MISSING TIME EXPERIENCES WITHIN OUR NETWORK

In the months that followed our double missing time on highway 62, I quietly alerted other Working Groups about what I believed had taken place. To my amazement, Wayne Peterson, the WG Coordinator for CE-5 team in Phoenix, described having a similar experience just a day after ours. According to his brief report, seven CE-5 team members had double missing time while doing fieldwork in the frigid Arizona desert.

Wayne wrote me, “It was Saturday Night, about the 27 of Dec, 1993. At least 7 of us were out at the Cave Creek sight. Including Grace, Kathleen and Howard. We were watching the fire intently as it was a chilly night. We decided about 11:45 to leave, we put out the fire and at the cars we checked the time. It was about 1 AM. “

Wayne told me that the brief walk to the cars could not have taken the hour plus time that had elapsed. This was the first episode they reportedly experienced that night. While standing around their cars, Wayne and his wife Grace saw a bright white meteor flash by in the sky. Wayne reported commenting to Grace about the apparent missing time. The team loitered around watching the sky for what seemed like perhaps 20 minutes. When they checked the time again it was about 2:30 AM. For a second time that night, an hour of missing time had occurred. Without a fire to keep them warm, standing around in the cold at their vehicles should have been quite a challenge. Wayne did not seem terribly upset by the apparent double missing time in cold desert night. Wayne lightheartedly commented at the end of his brief report, “Missing time again, at least we didn’t freeze.”

Ron Russell, a prominent space artist and CSETI member also confided to me that he too had a lost time experience. His had taken place just a few weeks before mine. Ron was a founding member of the first CE-5 Working Group outside of Asheville North Carolina where Dr. Greer lived. Shari Adamiak established the Denver team in 1991. She was the driving force behind CE-5 Initiative operations that were started in many cities during the early years. Her friend Ron Russell also investigated the crop circle phenomenon in England throughout the 1990s and has made major contributions to what I used to call “The Contact Movement.”

Ron told me that he was home alone one night in early December 1993. He was checking out a book that he had received in the mail from a publisher who wanted him to promote it. He told me that he was just sitting around at home quietly turning the pages. He reportedly was engaged in this activity for no more than a few minutes, but when he looked at the clock he had lost about an hour of time.

I thought it significant that the first CE-5 team had formed in Denver with Ron and Shari in 1991. The second group was organized during August 1992 in Los Angeles. I was the volunteer coordinator for this team. Phoenix soon followed in December 1992 with Wayne Peterson as Working Group Coordinator. It seemed as if a simple pattern had emerged. CE-5 teams were established first in Denver, and then LA followed by Phoenix. The lost time experiences of prominent CE-5 investigators followed the same pattern, Denver, LA and then Phoenix. Just in case we didn’t get the “message” that this was something to pay attention to, the numbers of those involved increased during each episode, one with Ron, then two, Misha with me, and finally a CE-5 team outside of Phoenix with seven reportedly undergoing two episodes of “lost time.”

I believe my report on missing time did have some impact on the CE-5 Working Group-training program. Dr. Steven Greer began emphasizing to trainees the importance of tracking time during field investigations. Vigilance was stressed to detect other such anomalous events.

I deem this series of missing time experiences important; nevertheless this information was initially not widely disseminated outside of the CE-5 network. Given the sensitivity of the topic, I believe I can understand why.

From my point of view, these reports are quite significant in that our missing time experiences followed the general pattern being described by countless other researchers. That Misha, Ron, Wayne and his team all reported suffering no ill effects from having experienced “missing time”, confirms the non-harmful nature of groups staging human initiated contact experiences.

DEVELOPING A MUTUALLY BENEFICAL RELATIONSHIP

For those who believe people are being victimized by non-human intelligence of a presumed ET origin, I imagine that the practice of deliberately seeking contact would be viewed as fool hearty. I served as both a participant and coordinator of CE-5 type work for nearly a quarter of a century. I should point out that there have been no deaths and no serious injuries as the result of our efforts. The rationale behind our actions has been to promote peaceful interactions in the hope of developing a mutually beneficial relationship. It has been said that the highest ideal on Earth is to promote peace through brotherhood. The contact network from my perspective endeavors to carry this practice out into the Cosmos.

One Mind, One Creation, One Planet, One People!