You Know You're Desperate When...

You know you're desperate when your most plausible chance for restoration to health involves abduction by space aliens. That's where I am now.

My fantasy involves me being beamed up to a spaceship by beneficent ETs who
1) recognize me as one of their own who was dropped on this planet
a) by mistake or
b) to undertake a crucial mission that has gone sadly awry or
2) are attuned to my vibrations, which are unlike those of the majority of my human companions, and so they "spot" me on planet Earth in need of their help.

They are so kind to me, staring at me with genuine compassion with their huge bug eyes. They gently pet me. They communicate messages of love and assurance to me without uttering a word; all is conveyed telepathically. This is not at all like the abductions you've heard and read about. This is a homecoming. A reunion of compatible souls.

My alien family takes me to an operating room. There they make the tiniest of incisions, or perhaps don't make a cut at all. They extract a few healthy cells from my pancreas, my spleen, my heart, and my kidneys. They kiss my forehead, and I fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

During my slumbers, my ET physicians grow new organs for me. Before I awake, they slip my old, worn-out, barely operating heart, pancreas, spleen, and kidneys out of my body and slip into place the new, perfectly functioning organs they've cooked up for me in the lab.

Upon waking, these loving souls tell me, telepathically, of course, that I no longer need to be hooked up to an insulin pump, that I will never have to take an injection of insulin again, that my coronary arteries are completely open, that my heart is in top form, that my kidneys are now operating at 100 percent, that my spleen is doing whatever it is that a spleen was meant to do. In short, my body has been restored to the fullness and vibrancy and health it was meant to embody. I am healed!

This fantasy has replaced another restoration-to-health fantasy I have entertained for a decade or so: A man from an exotic locale, usually a musician, but sometimes a photographer, meets me by chance at a restaurant or grocery store or while taking a walk. There is an instant attraction. A beautiful romance develops.

Because of his wide-ranging travels, he has met many strange and amazing people, one of whom is a healer. Depending on his nationality--he is sometimes Afghan, sometimes Pakastani, sometimes Iranian, once in a while Irish or Russian--we make a long and arduous journey to a remote corner of the world where we meet up with this healer, who through potions and ceremonies and ancient rituals, cures what ails me. Of course, the implication is also that the love of my romantic partner has a large part to play in my healing as well.

The reason why the handsome, exotic artist has been replaced by space aliens is because I believe it is more likely that I will encounter the latter than the former. So, if you're out there, please use your telepathic powers to divine the pure nature of my intent to be well. And please beam me up!