When I opened my eyes I was stunned to see that the entire house was surrounded by a glow that extended into the fog.

I thought to myself: You damned fool, you fell asleep and now the fire's gotten worse. I finally managed to get up. As I did so I said to Anne: "The roofs on fire. I'll get our son and wake up the others." I started downstairs.

I hadn't gotten halfway across the room before the glow suddenly disappeared. I was very confused. There was nothing to do but tell Anne that I had made a mistake, then go downstairs to comfort my son. On the way I met Jacques in the hall. His presence terrified me and I jumped back away from him. Then I apologized for being so startled by a friend, told him to calm down and go to bed, and added that nothing was wrong.

I continued into my son's room and embraced him. In a few minutes I was back in bed and the household was again asleep.

The next morning little was said about the incident. I do remember Annie mentioning that Jacques had been bothered by the light the night before. I didn't understand that because their bedroom door had been dosed, so they couldn't have seen the bathroom light, which is left on for our son. I didn't remember my confusion about fire. As far as I was concerned, Annie and Jacques had been disturbed by the light but I hadn't been.

Later that week I found myself a little agitated, without knowing quite why. I had a persistent memory of light flashing in my eyes that night. And I vaguely recalled some sort of an explosion.

The next weekend I had a very clear and dramatic memory of a huge crystal standing on end above the house, a glorious thing .hundreds of feet tall, glowing with unearthly blue light.

I told Anne about it, and as I was talking I experienced a hollow sort of a feeling I knew that she didn't believe me — of course she didn't! And I didn't believe myself. "Wasn't there some problem with the stove?" she asked. I was embarrassed and never mentioned the crystal again. I put it out of my mind permanently.

On February 6, 1986, I came home from Hopkins's house brimming with eagerness. I was sure I would put an end to this by asking careful questions. Jacques and Annie had been disturbed by the bathroom light. Of course. Their door must have been opened, as I had seen Jacques in the hall. And my Anne had cried out not because of the explosion but because I had told her the house was on fire. There had been no explosion. And as for the blue light on the living-room ceiling, put some unanticipated light source together with thick fog and anything can happen.