In “Time Rise,” I recounted my bizarre experiences during a three day period in early June of 1973. In telling this story for the first time twenty six years after the fact, I shed a burden that had grown heavy with secrecy and time.

It is difficult to define why I kept my experiences from my close associates over the years, other than to admit that I was, foremost, hiding them from myself. I feared the upsetting, perhaps socially awkward, consequences of revealing the facts of my own strange history. Therefore I separated these anomalies from my everyday life, secreting them away in untitled files in my brain, their contents known only to me.

There they remained for some twenty years. But all the while I continued to experience paranormal phenomena that seemed related to those original three-day events. Whether I was capable of integrating these events into my daily life matters not, as I patently refused to accept their reality. This generated a schism between my external personality and my increasingly tormented soul. Was I experiencing a form of psychosis, or were these glimpses of an unknown, perhaps unknowable, reality?


In the first volume of OPUS, I introduced the reader to subject matter not commonly associated with my work as a comics creator or as a painter of new romanticism.

In the essay “This Is Not Reality” I described two incidents from my past to illustrate the confusion that can sometimes arise when our everyday sense of reality is challenged by uncommon events. The stories display entirely different reactions from two individuals facing the unknown, or what they perceived as such. In one, the individual participant wanted to lash out from animalistic fear. In the second, the observer passively withdrew from the event rather than face its disturbing reality.