When I was about six years old, living in Rosarito, Baja California, an experience unfolded that forever altered my understanding of the world. It was a night like no other—while sleeping on the second floor of my great-grandparent’s house, I awoke to a strange, bright blue light that shimmered through the curtains of a sliding door. Innocent curiosity, not fear, led me to pull the curtains aside.
What I saw defied all logic: towering beings, about 7 to 8 feet tall, with an aura of light and a haze enveloping them, stood silently on the roof. Their shapes were elusive, yet distinctly alive, caught in restless agitation. One held an object resembling a futuristic tablet, swiping its finger smoothly across its surface with deliberate intent. Another paced back and forth, its movements hurried and tense, uttering strange sounds that were not words but more like a foreign tone.
Then one of them turned to me and began approaching. I watched, fascinated and alarmed, as it walked on thin air, defying gravity itself. It stepped onto invisible ground beyond the edge of the roof, as naturally as if it were solid footing. My heart raced; this was no ordinary experience. It teleported effortlessly into the room, appearing first at the top of the stairs, then closer and closer until it was mere inches from my face.
Its eyes were large and dark, shimmering eerily under the blue glow—eyes I could only describe as spider-like. Its skin had a glossy, frog-like texture in shades of grey and green, and its fingers ended in peculiar round bumps. Just as it was about to touch my face, it stopped, as if hearing a silent command.
In my mind came a message—a telepathic exchange between the beings. One ordered the other to leave me alone; their task here was over. The one near me withdrew its hand and retreated, their glowing light fading as suddenly as it had appeared.
Though my family slept unaware beneath me, my world had changed forever. The trauma was so profound that I abandoned anything reminding me of those haunting eyes—even Spider-Man, my childhood idol, who now seemed ominously linked to the encounter.
Over the years, this initial brush with the unknown opened the door to many more strange experiences, blurring the lines between alien phenomena and spectral visitations. What I witnessed that night was no dream—it remains a vivid memory, an encounter that challenges the limits of our reality and questions what else might silently observe us in the dark.
This story remains a testament to the mysteries surrounding Rosarito, a place where the veil between the ordinary and the extraordinary grows thin under the cover of night.