Puno, Peru 2:00 a.m. December 21, 1976
The air was cold. One very dim, bare light hung in the bathroom of the inn. I heard a sound and felt frightened. Suddenly, a young man with curly blond hair and white skin emerged from one of the dark stalls.
I relaxed. He looked American "Hi."
"Hello," the young man said in good English.
"Are you American?"
"No, actually I'm from another land," said the boy.
"Another land? What do you mean 'another land?'"
"Canada," the boy said quickly with blue eyes flashing. The young man appeared unusually wholesome, clean and healthy. His shiny white skin, bright blue eyes and golden-white hair seemed out of place in Puno, Peru.
"Where at in Canada?" I asked.
"Actually, not from any town. I was raised in a cabin, in the woods."
I laughed. "Really? Are you here with your family?"
"No, by myself."
"What is someone from Canada doing in South America at this time of year?" I was getting a little suspicious.
"The reason is a little unusual."
I laughed. "I am used to the unusual."
The boy looked me squarely in the face. "Actually, I am here because I believe that some great transformation will take place at sunrise in one of the Incan temples around Lake Titicaca--on December 22. And, I believe this transformation will change the world."
The words shocked me.
"That's why I am here," the boy said.
I figured he must be a UFO groupie from Los Angeles--or a spy.
"Where did you get that idea?"
"I just have it," he said.
"Come on," I said. "Are you from Los Angeles?"
"Are you a member of some UFO group?"
"No. What is that?"
"Do you go to UFO meetings, or anything like that?"
"No. I live in a cabin, a hundred miles from the nearest town. No radio, no phone, no television."
"Do you read books about UFO's?"
"No. I never have read one book about UFO's."
"Do you have some spiritual master who sent you here?"
"NO. It is just my own feeling."
"Of your own feelings, you believe you are to be here on December 22 at sunrise for a 'great transformation in a temple near Lake Titicaca that will change the world?' And you came from Canada for that, on your own?"
"That is right," the boy said with his big, blue eyes staring calmly at me. He didn’t blink or look away.
Suddenly, I felt nervous. His hands were slender and refined. He looked like an angel, not a Canadian woodsman. For a moment, I thought he must be a projection of the Secondary World, perhaps, sent to assassinate us. A meeting here, at this hour, was too much to be coincidence.
"Do you know anyone else here in Puno?" I asked nervously.
"How long have you been here?"
"I just arrived."
My mind spun. He answered each question, but volunteered no more. I suddenly felt paranoid. I felt he might kill me, on the spot. "Is what you are telling me for real?"
"Yes, I speak the truth," the boy said calmly.
"How did you get here?"
By plane to La Paz. Then taxi."
"You just got here?"
"Yes, two hours ago. I have talked to no one else except you."
I was suddenly afraid to turn my back on the boy. I wanted to call out to Brian. "Listen, I have someone you need to meet," I said.
The boy hesitated.
"The man I want you to meet is supposed to be 'in a temple near Lake Titicaca on December 22, 1976, at sunrise for a transformation.' Do you want to meet him?"
The boy pondered a moment. "Are you sure?"
I insisted we go to Brian, immediately. Reluctantly, the boy agreed. I asked him to walk in front of me. I did not want to let him out of my sight.