On a quiet evening in Progreso, a solitary place by the ocean in Baja California, the sky had finally cleared after days of relentless rain. I was stepping back into my house from the backyard near the pool when my eyes caught something extraordinary—a formation of lights unlike anything I had seen before. They glowed in a trapezoidal shape, their eerie luminosity surrounded by a faint, almost ghostly aura.
The lights moved steadily, making it impossible to discern whether each was a separate light or part of one colossal craft. At least eight lights flickered in the dimming sky, an enigmatic dance against the twilight. For a full five seconds, this spectral formation glided silently, then gradually faded into the night, leaving behind a chill that lingered far longer than their brief appearance.
Since that night, the image has haunted my thoughts every day. The sensation of witnessing something utterly inexplicable, wrapped in mystery and shadow, is a reminder of how thin the veil between our world and the unknown truly is. This encounter was not just a sighting—it was an invitation to question reality itself, a fleeting glimpse into a realm beyond ordinary perception.