An Adventure to Guoker Planet

In the early summer of 1985, when I was 19, the weather was mild and my bed was yet to be fitted with a mosquito net. I slept alone in the second room from the west in the front row of my family home, while my parents occupied the room immediately to its west. Our home comprised five rooms constructed from clay walls, with the entrance centrally located. Each side of the entrance featured rooms with windows, except for the two adjacent to it, which lacked windows. I occupied the westernmost room, which, notably, had no separation from the central hallway. Remarkably, a vivid dream once corrected my memory, revealing the kitchen was to the north of my room, and that my previous descriptions of the house being built of bricks and stones were inaccurate; it was, in fact, a structure of five clay-walled rooms. The manner in which I was taken by extraterrestrials involved passing directly through the clay walls, an experience so distinct that the earthy scent left a lasting impression, challenging the possibility of stone walls producing such an aroma. This suggests the existing six-room structure, now of stone and brick, was renovated after 1985 with an additional room added to the east. My makeshift bed, situated against the southern wall of my room, was simply wooden planks, with newspapers plastered at the junction to prevent clay from the wall from soiling the bed. The kitchen lay to the north, its stove facing west, and a large water jar positioned to the east of the stove, near a small window. Lying in bed, with my head to the east and feet towards the west, I was approximately 1.5 meters (5 feet) from my parents’ room. It was through this clay wall, not the main gate, that the extraterrestrials and I passed, leaving a memorable scent of earth behind. The floor throughout was earthen, not paved with concrete, and the door to my parents’ room was nearby. Shortly after lying down, I drifted into a semi-conscious state and sensed something circling above our roof, reigniting a familiar childhood intuition of “they are coming.” Suddenly, the room was bathed in a reddish glow. Startled awake, I stood by my bed to see the walls seeping a glowing liquid that mixed dark red with hints of bluish-green. This liquid slowly formed into humanoid shapes. These figures appeared composed of numerous, swirling red particles, buzzing and moving frenetically. Overwhelmed by fear, I trembled uncontrollably, feeling my limbs and throat stiffen, unresponsive to my mind’s commands. Though these mysterious figures remained silent, a clear, male voice seemed to echo in my mind, saying, “Come out with us.” I was acutely aware that this was not a dream; my mind was fully awake and the memory vivid. As I stood frozen, I suddenly felt an unseen force slam into me, taking control, particularly over my head, which felt as if it were filled with liquid and fine sand, rendering me numb and full. This enigmatic force seemed to blur my consciousness, slowing my thoughts and impairments, and dulling my senses. My body felt eerily light and unstable as I moved. Gradually, my trembling ceased, and the fear subsided. I watched as they passed effortlessly through the wall, which appeared to become semi-transparent. Following them, I too passed through the wall. Only outside did I realize my state of undress, wearing just a sweatshirt and underwear, leaving me utterly disheveled. The earthy scent of the wall left a profound impression on me as I passed through it. Rather than creating an opening, it felt as though every molecule of the wall dispersed evenly through my body, a sensation unlike any other. It was as if countless fine grains of sand were gently rubbing inside me, accompanied by a peculiar sense of refreshment. The process wasn’t swift; it moved at the pace of a casual stroll. Over the following decades, I frequently dreamt of passing through walls. Sometimes I succeeded, and other times I failed. Whenever I didn’t make it through, I would remind myself to face the wall without fear or hesitation. There’s no need to force it—just walk through calmly, with a clear mind. Upon nearly exiting the wall, my heel would ache numbly, a sensation that vanished the moment I completed the passage. Outside, I encountered two individuals, one of whom shone a device on the wall, possibly making it semi-transparent. These beings, capable of transitioning between liquid and solid states, vibrated subtly. Their appearance conveyed a fleeting, surreal quality, leading me to speculate they were not human but perhaps robots—the speculation that was later validated. As I emerged through the wall, the night seemed illuminated by some source of light, revealing another person who appeared as tangible as any real person—reminiscent of a little girl from kindergarten. Approaching her seemed to instill fear; she instinctively stepped back, maintaining a certain distance from me.