The existential and identity crises of a suspect Starseed


The more you embrace and engage with a thing, the more it will talk back to you, consolidating you as a component in something greater. We are all made of stars, and as I’ve become more connected with the universe around me, I feel more accepted, not so much by people (I don’t fully understand myself) but by the place in which I live. Yet I still don’t feel at home, despite being as secure as I’ve ever been personally. Medical science and human psychology put this down to my depression, anxiety (mainly social), paranoia, and PTSD by virtue of hangover, but as someone who questions, I wish to know more.


Knowledge is fear for some, but I fear little (heights and formal social occasions mostly, but not the dark, spiders, snakes, nor even death), because of my understanding of quantum physics and the eternal human soul. The only part I fear, is the actual transition, the mode of extinguishing this life. Hopefully, it’ll be quietly in my sleep, but I do worry about a traumatic death, yet I don’t fear what comes after, as I have a pretty good idea of what’s there. It’s just like wakefulness and sleep, with that transitory phase between the two being the one we never recall. Perhaps on the other side, I won’t actually remember how I got there. Quantum physics suggests that it’s simply the continuation of one parallel universe, when another becomes impossible to inhabit in my fleshy human form. In my new, ethereal ‘body’ (my ‘spirit’), I then have eternity to explore the universe, unencumbered by any physical restrictions. To me, that’s heaven. And yet to others – with less enquiring minds – being presented with all of knowledge would be simply overwhelming: It would be a personal hell.

I prefer constructive debate to blind argument, because no matter how opposing or polarising, I seek to understand the reasons for the opinions of others. If I can understand an objection, all the better to deal with it. Through debate comes greater understanding and further discussion. Alas, there are those who are too blinkered in their ingrained (and inbred) prejudices to debate. Deluded they’re right, or scared they’ll be proven wrong, they act rashly, and ignorance causes conflict and war. Our entire planet is teetering on a balance, where all of humankind’s endeavours could be used to discover and explore, if we don’t use them to destroy ourselves first. It’s selfish elitist greed vs. longer-term thinking. Naturally, I’m of the latter camp.

So if I don’t understand something, when learning more about it might help me to do so, I will question, interrogate, read, research, listen and learn. With my depression and anxiety – although those are perfectly good labels for the medical profession – I want to learn more about them, to better understand them, so that we can co-operate rather than fight. Seeing as it’s all going on in my brain, that’s a place where I’d far rather host a party than a riot.

I’ve written before on this blog, of how my alcoholic descent into nothingness (having nothing and being nothing) somehow woke a previously latent lobe in my brain. It wasn’t an epiphany and it was a gradual process, but as I sobered up, I started thinking about the bigger things. With no possessions and nothing to do, there were few distractions. Life on the streets was shit, but it was where I met humanity, when their own humanity is all that people have left. I lived in a world without money, but it was also one without government. And I lived in a squat, where social anarchy prevailed. Seeing life in an orange glow of Sainsbury’s Basics, with all veneer stripped away, allowed me to see life’s roots.

Maybe I was just appreciating life, in a way I never had, but in a way which was the norm for everyone else. But as I became more and more in touch, I saw members of the public (the name homeless people use to describe the superior social classes) for what I’d been before: automata. Freed of responsibility, I also found freedom of expression. Obviously I eventually became a writer.

Since I’ve been friends with the thing in my head, I’ve questioned those labels placed upon it; mental illness, for want of anything better. But that’s such a general and inexact term, for what I’ve found can be used as a gift. I’m disabled through mental health, yet it’s that which has expanded my mind, with all of the self-improvement (or delusion) which comes with it. I recognise my brain, not as unwell, but as something which has things which make it unusual. And because of that, it interests me, so I’ve interrogated it.

Yes, I talk to myself. And yes, I smoke weed. It’s pretty obvious I’m pro-cannabis, because I’ve found it to be so helpful in calming my anxiety and broadening my mind, hopefully improving me as a writer. When I think existentially, I don’t see a world which others have always seen, and which I missed because I was drunk; I see a greater picture now, which the automata most likely never will in their distracted lives.

I try to place myself in some sort of pan-position, because it’s easier to understand that which you can look at from above or outside. It extends to politics, where I’m obviously left-wing, but I see more in social anarchy than conventional liberal socialism. I’m comfortable with my gender alignment (male), and I present as a heterosexual, but I identify differently, in my recognition of five gender types, in line with Native American beliefs, before the invasion and brainwashing of the Pilgrim Fathers. The five genders are male, female, two-spirit male, two-spirit female, and transgender. Although I’m not homosexual, I appreciate the aesthetics of the male human body, just as I do the female (artistically, rather than erotically: I’m a writer). I’m in touch with the feminine side which all humans have within them, but not a transvestite, although I do dress slightly effeminately sometimes. So I identify as two-spirit male, but I have two-spirit female in me as well. As such, I identify personally as pan-sexual (it’s more embracing than asexual, which is contextually inaccurate anyway).

I’ve been called (affectionately, I think) an alien (and many other things, less affectionately) in the past. With this in mind, I set off to find out more about me. I didn’t send off a DNA testing kit, I researched some of my thoughts, feelings and theories, and some of that research was in forums on the dark web. Apparently, I could be a Starseed, which I liked the sound of, so I researched some more. Probably the most accessible article I found, was one called What is a Starseed and how to find out if you could be one, on Learning Mind. Keep a mind as open as mine, and humour me here:

Star Seeds are beings that have experienced life elsewhere in the Universe on other planets and in non-physical dimensions other than on Earth. Star Seeds may also have had previous life times on earth.”

That comes from the Sirius Centre of Ascension, no less (yeah, I know). But before I dismissed it as the Sirius Centre of assumption and blind faith, or of condescension, I kept an open mind and read further (and the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation is real, after all). And I must admit, I could relate. Obviously, one can apply any old bollocks to human traits, but it’s no more bollocks than the bible or a personality quiz, and fits better with my scientific mind, validating, vindicating and verifying (or at least complementing) my universal appreciation based on quantum physics and maintaining an absorbent mind.

From the Learning Mind article, I learn that Starseeds are highly intelligent beings (I’ve got an IQ of 147: Does that count?) that come from far-flung corners of the universe, when previously I thought I was from Catford. Starseeds are advanced souls (well, I’m in touch with mine) who have wisdoms humans cannot comprehend (which goes some way to me not being able to work myself out fully). Starseeds are not aware of their true identities (pan-gender and pan-political aside) but have come here to help mankind evolve to the next level of higher consciousness. So I figure that’s what I’m supposed to do. And I do already, especially with my ongoing counselling of young people.

The article goes on to say that I didn’t know about my mission until the time of my ‘awakening’ (I’d been drunk). Again, it all sounds a bit quasi religious and spiritual, but there was that slow non-religious dawning I wrote of. These awakenings can range from sudden and intense, to serene and barely noticeable. Seeing as mine was propelled by weed and not fuelled by alcohol in the latter stages, mine would be one of those, if indeed that’s what it was.

Whilst no one really knows where Starseeds come from, their purpose on Earth is clear, the article asserts. Mine wasn’t at all clear to me, before the age of 42, and even now, there are things I remain unsure of. But apparently I’ve come to usher in a new dawn for mankind; a new spiritual awakening, that will raise the consciousness of the whole planet. It sounds a bit grand, but that is what I’d quite like to do.

Starseeds are (apparently) naturally empathic and intuitive, and have a fascination with science and astronomy (true, and many things besides, like what makes those work too). They are naturally drawn to subjects that include the universe, space exploration and discovery, and they believe passionately in life on other planets. Well, I am, and I do.

Then the Learning Mind article offers 30 things to look for:

Are you a Starseed?

  1. You have always felt that you don’t belong here.

  2. You have a fascination with images of the Earth.

  3. You believe you have travelled from Earth and may think you have been abducted by aliens.

  4. You feel intrinsically different from everybody else.

  5. You don’t feel at home here and could imagine living on another planet.

  6. You have a deep resonance with the universe and sometimes pray to it to get a wish granted.

  7. You are fascinated with science-fiction and prefer to watch TV programmes or films that feature this subject.

  8. You feel out of place and prefer to spend time alone.

  9. Large gatherings of crowds bother you and make you feel trapped.

  10. You prefer to live somewhere there is plenty of open space.

  11. You often feel as if you have higher morals than other people.

  12. You always see the bigger picture.

  13. You have an innate sense of empathy that can be overwhelming at times.

  14. You feel as if you can fly and often have dreams where you are travelling above the Earth.

  15. You feel trapped in your physical body and feel as if it is holding you back.

  16. You feel as if you are incredibly special and have some sort of mission to perform.

  17. You have had a paranormal experience.

  18. Animals are drawn to you and you understand them intuitively.

  19. Even at a young age you were questioning rules and regulations and may have been rebellious as a teenager.

  20. You instinctively know if someone is lying.

  21. You are spiritual but not in a religious sense.

  22. You are a good listener and people often come to you for your unbiased opinions.

  23. Sometimes you feel overwhelmed by the problems in the world as they make you feel helpless.

  24. You have incredibly vivid dreams that are full of colour and imagery.

  25. Strangers often tell you their deepest secrets and problems.

  26. You have recurring dreams about space travel and aliens.

  27. You suffer from social anxiety.

  28. You might find life a struggle as you try to find your true purpose.

  29. You have always been an old soul.

  30. You feel that the rules of society don’t apply to you.

With one or two exceptions, I can relate to each to varying degrees (I’ve written about some on this blog). I don’t believe I’ve been abducted, but it may be that that’s by design. And I feel younger than I ever did, but Starseeds come in three different flavours anyway:

New Starseeds’: Those who just arrived here and not had that many lifetimes on Earth (I don’t remember any: see above).

New Age Starseeds’: They’ve been here for many lifetimes and are here to help the planet achieve a higher consciousness.

Old Soul Starseeds’ that have lived hundreds upon hundreds of lives on Earth and are at the end of their journey through space.

Based on what I know, that would make me a noob.

All Starseeds are here to share their knowledge, wisdom and assist in the ascension of consciousness in individuals and in humanity. Their mission is to help humans understand that earthly problems are immaterial and there are much more important lessons to learn about spirituality and attaining a higher level of consciousness. Whether you believe in Starseeds or not, they are here to shine a light on humanity and are powerful beings that want to propel us to the Golden Age of inspiration, love, creativity and advancement.”

You get me?

It’s a bold claim and one I make light-heartedly, mindful of the ridicule it might attract. But I smoke cannabis and I wear my heart on my sleeve, and this is my blog, my story. It’s said that there’s a fine line between genius and insanity, but I’ve not been sectioned yet.

I don’t place myself alongside other thinkers suspected of being not-of-this-planet: Albert Einstein (IQ upwards of 160), Stephen Hawking (160), Garry Kasparov (190), and I’ve only known my own IQ since I sat an invigilated exam last year (and I have the piece of paper to prove it), so my continued enlightenment feeds that. I’ve been guided most of my life by the Starman himself, the man who fell to earth, and who said that knowledge comes with death’s release. I have no immediate plans for release, but my mind has plenty of capacity for expansion in sobriety and cannabis.

Just a note on the weed:

If ever you’ve been smoking cannabis and you’re doing some dishes, bear this in mind: If you try to move the mixer tap from side to side by holding onto the water coming out of the tap, it will not work. This is not to say cannabis is bad for you, just that you’re in touch with the quantum universe and shouldn’t operate machinery.


On lucid dreaming and the quantum human soul

What life after this is like and how to get there


There’s a very simple answer to life, the universe and everything. In a funny way, it is 42 for me. Because just as Deep Thought took 7.5 million years to work it out in The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it took me 42 years. And I’m part of the computer which Deep Thought designed: Earth 2.0. But this isn’t science fiction. This is scientific fact. This is how I can quite reasonably explain what this life is all about, what comes after it, and how to get there. This is not a religious text. I’ve been asked to clarify my politics, religion, and my overall outlook on life in the past. This is an anarchist atheist blog entry.

Universe background

I did not have an epiphany. This is not a sudden realisation. It’s something I’ve formulated over the last 3-4 years. If anything, being homeless for three years was what convinced me there was no God. Not because I felt somehow deserving and forsaken. What happened to me couldn’t be the work of any god: I did it myself. No, it was because I had time to think, to question, read and learn. I did this by spending many long days in Tonbridge Library. I’d spend my allotted hour of computer time typing up this blog, then I’d retire to the reference section and I’d borrow books from the lending section. Regarding what follows, further reading shouldn’t be necessary but I’d certainly recommend learning more. Firstly, let’s get my atheism and anarchism into some context:

I’m an atheist, in that I deny ‘God’ in man’s image. I don’t deny that the earth may have been visited by a greater intelligence, many thousands of years ago. I would be a fool – given all that I believe – to assume that there was no other life in the universe. I certainly believe (hope) that there are many, far superior races out there. The sheer size of space makes it a paradox, and upon that is built both scientific research and blind faith. The curious explorers who want to learn more, and those who prefer to accept what’s fed to them. I’ll come back to personal utopian and dystopian worlds later, as well as how to get there. For now, my atheism is rooted in a desire to question and discover, not to accept as fact, that which is unproven. I don’t consider my scientific views to be in any way blind faith.

Anarchism next though: In the 80s, I was a punk. It was more than the music: It was a movement and a way of life, just as Bowie became my life guide throughout, and my musical roots go back to Kingston and the birth of Ska, and all that true Two Tone represents. But when I was a punk, I wore white laces in my D.Ms. At the time, that stood for Anarchy, Peace and Freedom, where red laces were Anarchy and Chaos. But far from the stereotypes of either portrayed in the media, there is a deeper humanitarian nature to true anarchy, as defined by Noam Chomsky and Ross Ulbricht. A self-governing society can work, provided a balance is collectively maintained. True and pure anarchy is a redistribution of power, where power is returned to the people.

Add the atheism, the anarchism and some weed together, and you have a mind which can question the greater things. Being pretty extreme left wing (in the relatively simplistic sphere of geopolitics when compared to the universe), I seek to reconcile what I say with all who might object, if they’re prepared to have a debate and not to fight. We may agree to differ, but by having that conversation, at least the two parties are better able to understand one another. Only by continuing to talk do we increase our understanding.

So what of life, the universe and everything? I’m limited by words, just as ancient scribes were when they recorded the events of whatever it was which happened 2000 years ago. Religion packaged it and monetised it, but the ancient scrolls and scripts are so open to interpretation that it requires a leap of faith to accept any theory. All religion did was package one version and sell it. I don’t believe we know who or what any creator might have been, how we got here, or where we came from. It is perhaps for comfort that I choose to believe there are other races out there in the virtual infinity of space. Consider the size, and consider the Drake equation, and you get an idea of how it’s a paradox requiring some faith, but no more than religion, and not packaged, other than by those who label us conspiracy theorists. As such, we explore and we question. We can be wrong. We desire debate from a wider conversation, but while that label is applied, we’re the freaky geeks, the nerds, the computer programmers and hackers. In any case, most of us wear white hats, which means the same as those boot laces in the 80s. But at the end of any debate, I would seek to reconcile religion with science, in the exact way Carl Sagan did in Contact. That book and film left both sides open, for further debate, none with a definitive answer. Contact contains one of my favourite quotes, about humanity:

You’re an interesting species. An interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.”

And that fits in with my greater outlook on life, the universe, and everything. And of course, Stephen Hawking:

For millions of years, mankind lived just like the animals. Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk and we learned to listen. Speech has allowed the communication of ideas, enabling human beings to work together to build the impossible. Mankind’s greatest achievements have come about by talking, and its greatest failures by not talking. It doesn’t have to be like this. Our greatest hopes could become reality in the future. With the technology at our disposal, the possibilities are unbounded. All we need to do is make sure we keep talking.”

Arthur C. Clarke:

Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”

And finally, David Bowie:

Knowledge comes with death’s release.”

Four great minds. Four thinkers. Four visionaries. Together, those words and the other works of those individuals and others, are the background for the formulation of what I like to think is a unifying theory. I have my own philosophy:

Imagine you are in an empty room, with no visible means of exit. How do you get out? You could stop imagining. Or you could use your imagination.”

Clearly, I chose the latter path. I think a lot, and I try to make sense of those thoughts in my writing. I do believe knowledge comes with death’s release, I share Clarke’s fear, and I believe in communication, at all levels. That only breaks down if I’m dealing with someone who lacks basic human instincts through pure ignorance of their own making and perpetuating. Well, in my theory (And backed up by scientific thought), those people are destined to an eternal hell of their own making (see below).

A quick digression: one of the causes I follow closely is that of nonhuman rights. Just like (most of) us, animals are sentient beings: They know they’re alive. They sleep, and they know that there was something before and after that; a yesterday and tomorrow, past and future. Like humans, animals are self-determining creatures: They are aware of actions and reactions. They have a conscience. It’s that conscience – in both humans and nonhumans – which I believe can exist separately from the physical body. It is the soul. I believe that the human body is just a physical vessel for that soul during this life. I believe that life as we understand it, is merely one part of an ongoing existence, the greatness of which we can’t yet comprehend. And I believe that once our physical bodies age and die, our souls continue to live (and I just said ‘arseholes’).

A good analogy is a TV: when it’s switched off, it’s just a physical box which does nothing, unless it’s switched on. Switch a TV on, and it will show various broadcasts from the many available TV channels: Pictures, sounds; an intangible thing. It’s no longer just a physical box; it has a life of sorts. And the human body can be thought of in exactly the same way: a device for giving the broadcast the means of expression, except the intangible thing in this case is the human consciousness. Just because you switch a TV off, doesn’t mean those broadcasts stop; they’re still there, but the TV needs to be on to see them. And so, when the physical human body dies, the consciousness – the soul – continues to live, albeit in a different physical form. Some say that’s what ghosts are, and based on the evidence supporting the eternal human soul model, it’s a perfectly reasonable assumption. So ghosts do exist. The dead really are able to visit us, because they’re still around. Some people find that comforting.

And of course, there are always caveats and paradoxes. Because ‘ghosts’ or whatever we want to call the form we take in the afterlife, exist in a form which is generally invisible and undetectable to us. It’s a simple scientific fact that there are forces of nature and physics which challenge even the finest minds (supersolids being one example). But for me, it’s an easy and comfortable thing to accept as fact: That when I die, my consciousness will continue to live. In an attempt to explain how that might manifest itself to us when we actually experience it (come the time), I need to briefly cover quantum mechanics. For that, we need to return to the choosing of paths from above.

Imagine you’re on a path and the path splits in two. You now have two options: the right or left path. As I’m left-handed and left-wing, let’s say I choose the path on the left. Assume that the paths are enclosed, by walls, trees, or whatever. So I’m walking along the left path and I can’t see outside it. Does the other path still exist? Like the tree which falls silently in the woods and makes no sound, this is a paradox. But it’s one designed to make one think. If we think logically, of course that other path is still there: we saw it. But was the act of seeing it, the very thing which brought it into existence? This is what quantum theory is all about: Everything exists in many parallel states, only taking final form with some sort of catalyst. Erwin Schrödinger demonstrated this with his thought experiment, Schrödinger’s cat: Essentially, a box contains a cat, which may be either dead or alive. Until the box is opened, the cat exists in both states (alive and dead). The opening of the box is the catalyst: It makes one think.

A real-life example of the quantum world is the 512-Qubit D-Wave II quantum computer, currently running in British Columbia, Canada. A traditional computer, however complex and whatever device hosts it, is a binary machine: Boil a computer down to its raw operating code and it’s all ones and zeros: either one or the other; binary. A binary bit is always either a 1 or a 0. A quantum bit exists in both states simultaneously, until it is called into operation by a computational command. The potential power of a quantum computer is truly mind-boggling. In the quantum universe, everything exists in parallel states, until it’s called into existence by a catalyst. At that point, all of the alternate states – which weren’t brought into existence – continue to exist. Got that? Because that’s the biggest mind hurdle, accepting such a weird fact.

There are quantum mechanics at work in our daily lives. Every time we make a decision – consciously or unconsciously – we call a scenario (a universe) into existence. In the quantum world, all of the potential universes which would have been called into existence if there was a different catalyst, still exist. When we die, a universe is created in which our dead physical body exists, and where some may mourn and others celebrate. But at the same time, alternatives exist. At the point of death, unable to continue the path of the physical body, our consciousness will find itself in a different universe: One which existed at the moment of death, but which couldn’t be occupied by the physical body we just lost. It’s a simple matter of (and as easy to imagine as) one set of options being switched off. Scientific fact: Life doesn’t just end. This is not just a comforting thought to combat that of eternal nothingness; it’s science. We only know all this now, because we’re able to observe things at a sub-atomic level (and it wasn’t long ago that the holy grail was splitting the atom).

So when we die, we take on a different physical form: Think of it as some sort of ethereal, spiritual thing, because that’s the easiest way. In that non-physical form, we are free to move around, without limits or borders. And free of our frail human bodies, we are also free from the ravages of time, and what that can do to age a physical thing. We (our consciousness, or our soul), are effectively immortal. And this is where I’m able to posit a unifying theory on heaven and hell, because quantum theory proves that consciousness moves to another universe after death (other links, here).

I write not of the biblical heaven and hell, but of personal ones. We can now appreciate, that after death, we continue to exist. In that form, we have freedom of movement and time. Roughly translated, there is an entire universe to explore, and an eternity in which to do it. Faced with that, how might some of us react? I’d suggest that the open-minded and curious would find themselves in a personal utopia (I know I would). But to anyone conditioned, blinkered, limited by belief, or just dumb and ignorant, faced with all that potential knowledge, it could be overwhelming: A personal hell; fear of the unknown for eternity. You only have to think of the people you know, to be fairly sure of who’s going where. It’s not wholly down to them being a good or bad person; it’s down to how their mind deals with such a huge thing. It takes a level of intelligence and an open mind to accept these things, but not much.

Ancient aliens from distant galaxies aside, there’s no white haired, bearded old man; there’s just all of knowledge. Personally, although I fear the process of death itself, I don’t fear what comes after.

So now we have multiple quantum universes, hanging in limbo, all around, just waiting to be called into existence. All that aren’t, still exist, in the past and present. We just can’t see them. We’re not aware of many of them in our current physical form. So how do we go exploring? We now move onto lucid dreaming. A lucid dream is a dream during which the dreamer is aware of dreaming. During lucid dreaming, the dreamer may be able to exert some degree of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment.

At some point before reading this, you’ll have woken from sleep today. You remember being awake yesterday, because you’re a sentient, self-determining being. You remember that you’ve slept and what you remember of that, is down to your ability to dream and recall those dreams. And every day, we remember waking from sleep, and being awake before that. The part we never remember, is that actual moment of transit: Passing from wakefulness into sleep. As soon as you wake, you know you’ve been asleep, and you remember being awake before you slept. But you cannot remember falling asleep. That’s where we go to catch dreams, and there’s a way to do it, but it takes a lot of practice.

Lucidity is a sort of semi-conscious state, somewhere between conscious and unconscious, but where the subject is aware of their surroundings. Lucid dreaming is simply taking control of one’s dreams. It involves being able to recognise, in sleep, when one is actually asleep. It’s quite literally, being in a dream and being able to say to oneself, ‘I am dreaming’. The trick is not waking yourself up.

There are many books on the subject, and most teach the methods (mind control) which help to achieve lucidity. There are many suggested ways, and the one which eventually worked for me was this (and Exploring the World of Lucid Dreams, by Stephen LaBerge Ph.D and Howard Rheingold):

As you lay in bed at night, become aware of your surroundings. Concentrate on your thoughts, and keep telling yourself that you’re falling asleep. Eventually and naturally, you will. And like most people, most of the time, you’ll miss that moment when you pass over and actually fall asleep. The next thing you may be aware of, is that you’re dreaming. It’s a fact, that the last thing on your mind as you fall asleep will remain there. With a lot of practice (it took me about six months), you’ll eventually have a eureka moment: A moment when you realise – in your sleep – that you are dreaming. You are now lucid. As such, you are free to move around as you please, as you are no longer constrained by your body (it’s asleep, like the TV set). The first time it happened to me, I looked from the bed where I lay, at the sofa in my living room, which was up a short flight of steps. I don’t know if steps are called a ‘flight’ and the bit at the top, the ‘landing’ for this reason, but taking it literally, I decided to fly up the steps to my sofa. And so, in my dream, I stood, Superman-like, and thrust my fist out ahead of me. And I flew. And I got so excited that I woke up. This went on for several weeks.

Eventually, after almost a year in total, I was generally able to lucid dream at will. For a while, I resisted the urge to fly, as I didn’t want the euphoria to wake me. A bit of a warning here: You may find yourself (as I did), living a life which seems like a long day which never ends. Because being awake and asleep become so alike (apart from being able to do anything and everything in the latter state), it can sometimes feel like you’re never sleeping. It doesn’t get physically exhausting, because you are sleeping, or at least your physical body is. But it can get disconcerting. It is a completely new way of living, after all.

Once you’re in control of your dreams, the limit is quite literally your imagination. And that dreamscape you’re exploring can be the universe. So, every night, you’re experiencing a little of what it’ll be like when you’re finally freed of your physical body. For now, you can only do it when you’re asleep. In that place, time and space act differently. There are other dimensions. It’s a lot to take on board and you can see why it would take an eternity to discover it all. But even if you can’t visit through lucidity in your dreams, it’s lucidity which awaits. And that’s a comforting thought, based on science but which doesn’t exclude religion.

Knowledge comes with death’s release.

So that’s how I live my life. People asked, so I told: I’m a writer. That’s me, and that’s the way I am.

My first novel, The Paradoxicon, was a semi-autobiographical story of a man seeking answers through lucid dreaming, while battling his own demons in the space between wakefulness and sleep. My latest novel, Cyrus Song, gives a more humorous skew on things (with talking animals), but nevertheless answers the ultimate question: That of life, the universe and everything. There really is an even simpler answer.

Smoking reefers with ghosts


Last night, I sat up talking to a dead person. It would be a good opening line for a story, but it’s fact. I don’t know if my friend heard me, but I like to think she did. I may be branded a loony (I’m pretty much medically diagnosed as one anyway) but I got something from that meeting, as though I’d heard something. This is not a religious epiphany.

Carl Sagan

I’ll confess that I’d been smoking a bit of weed, but no-one should judge that until they’ve tried it themselves. My friend smoked too. For her, it was pain relief from sickle cell disease, which took her from us last year. It’s her birthday today, so we kind of sat up, passing a reefer between us. For me, cannabis relieves my anxiety, relaxes me and opens my mind. It’s a very agreeable self-prescribed therapy. But just because I was a bit stoned, doesn’t mean I was tripping, or out of it. Like pretty much all weed smokers, I’m compos mentis (despite the medical diagnoses) when I’m on it, more chatty, articulate and enquiring. I get clarity of deeper thought, and I’m able to interrogate my own brain, which has allowed us to become good friends.

As an atheist, I deny God in man’s image. I don’t deny that there could be superior or technically advanced beings in the universe. I believe it may be possible that our planet was visited by ancient aliens, and that these events were recorded by scribes in the terms which they understood. My objection is to the white-haired man created by Christianity, in its own image, and religion based on worshipping an idol. But I accept that for some, it’s a belief system and a comfort.

I have my own set of beliefs. Having got my head around quantum mechanics a couple of years ago, I believe that life as we know it is merely one part of an ongoing existence, the greatness of which we don’t yet understand. And of course, like Christianity, my belief has to be based on a faith that I’m right. But my beliefs do at least have a grounding in science. Put simply, I believe that the soul continues to live, after the physical body has broken. Then, we take on a different physical form, which gives us freedom from the restraints of the living human body. Some may think of ghosts or spirits, and that’s perhaps what those phenomena are.

My short story, Cardboard Sky, explains the various kinds of ghosts:

The ‘Crisis Apparition’ is normally a one-time event for those experiencing it. It’s when a ghost is seen at the time of it’s predecessor’s passing, as a way of saying farewell to family and friends. It would be like going about your daily business, then suddenly seeing your mum outside of normal contexts. Minutes later, you receive a call to tell you that she’s passed away. With practice, the deceased may be able to visit you more than once, to reassure you. If they do that, you might have a guardian angel. In my case, a fallen one with broken wings.

‘The reluctant dead’ are ghosts who are unaware they’re deceased. They go about their lives as if they were still living, oblivious to their passing. This innocence (or denial), can be so severe that the ghost can’t see the living but can nonetheless feel their presence: A kind of role reversal. This can be stressful, for both the haunter and the haunted. In films, it’s usually someone moving into the home of a recently deceased person. Perhaps they lived and died alone in their twilight years. To them, the living might be invaders. These are not ghosts which need to be exorcised: Simply talking to them about their death can help them to cross over and leave your home.

Then there are ghosts who are trapped or lost: They know they’re dead but for one reason or another, they can’t cross over yet. Cross over into what? Some may fear moving on because of the person they were in life, or they might fear leaving what’s familiar to them.

There are ghosts with ‘unfinished business”’broadly split into two categories: A parent might return to make sure their children are okay. Or a lover might hang around, making sure their partner finds happiness and moves on. But there’s also the ‘vengeful ghost’; perhaps a murder victim, back to haunt their killer.

‘Residual ghosts’ usually live out their final hours over and over again. They often show no intelligence or self-awareness, and will walk straight by (or through) you. Many think that these types of ghosts left an imprint or a recording of themselves in our space time.

Finally, the ‘intelligent ghost’: Where the entity interacts with the living and shows a form of intelligence. I certainly wanted to communicate with George. In fact, to lesser and greater extents, I fitted parts of the descriptions of all types of ghosts. I’d not long been dead and already I had a multiple personality disorder…”

That was fiction. But in fact, I do believe in ghosts I suppose.

By extension to all of this, I can see how heaven and hell might exist, in a personal sense. When the time comes for my calling, I imagine I’ll be faced with an entire universe to explore, perhaps for eternity. To my mind, that would be a personal utopia: All the answers I’ve always sought. ‘Knowledge comes with death’s release’ (David Bowie). But to others, knowledge represents fear. So faced with a universal knowledge of all things, some people may be terrified, and find themselves in a personal hell. Intelligence and ignorance may experience an eternal karma on the other side.

I believe that as we continue to exist and move freely after our physical death, we can visit the living. It may be that they don’t know we’re there, but I’m comforted by a belief that the dead still walk among us. In death, the world is without borders. I have written and I believe, that if we speak to the dead, if they’re listening, sometimes they may hear us. I imagine a sleeping soul being stirred from slumber, because someone is thinking of them. I believe that our thoughts can be heard: An ethereal, telepathic connection, with an afterlife without physical form, replaces the audible speech we’d have had with them in this life.

It wasn’t a long conversation. I told my friend that everyone said hi, including my kids, who went to school with her son. I asked her how it was out there, and how I imagine it was nice to escape the pain of her illness. But of course, she had to leave a family behind. I shared with her, my belief that she can hear me, and others who think of her. I wished there was a way she could have told me everything’s okay, and that she could hear us. Even though that’s down to my own atheist scientific faith, I felt at ease. I was relaxed, of course: we were smoking a joint. But it was a comforting feeling I had. The kind I get when I’ve just finished a story I’ve written while I’ve been a bit mind-expanded, and knowing it’s good. I read her the poem I wrote for her after she’d left us. To Catford’s sleeping Queenie:

A wave from a plane

If you’re ever stuck;
If you ever wonder;
It’s the simple things,
that make a life:

Sunday roast: Jerk chicken
Sandy coast: Jamaica
Bonfire nights, Christmas lights
All these things

Birthday gifts, healing rifts
Friendly smile, extra mile
All these things
remind me

City walks; Kids’ school
Family talks; Black and white
London years, happy tears
All these things

Moonlit night; Security lights
Morning haze; Happy days
All these things
remind me

Dogs and rats; Welcome mats
Catford: Life rhymes with that
Dancing queen, evergreen
All these things

All these things are true

50 Cent makes music
while Dana sings:
“All kinds of everything
remind me of you.”

It’s good to talk. Talk to the dead, if you believe they can hear you. I believe that it’s nice for someone out there to know that they’re being remembered.

I hope people still talk to me when I’m gone.


Valdin Millette (1983 – 2016)

A brief history of anarchy and optimism


Being an optimist or a pessimist makes no difference to the outcome (especially if you subscribe to predeterminism) but the optimist has a better time leading up to it. That’s one of a few philosophies which have helped me over the last four years.


It was almost four years ago now that I first found myself sitting in McDonald’s, with a school exercise book and a bookmaker’s pen, starting to write notes. When I look at what’s happened since, it was optimism and activism which got me through.

It’s only in the last few months that I’ve had the security of a rolling tenancy with a social landlord (having passed a “probationary” first year). I had to work for what I now have, and it was optimism and a determination to better my lot that got me here. Having spent three months street homeless, a further six months in a squat, seven months sofa-surfing, then a year crammed into an illegal, overcrowded flat above a crooked landlord’s pub, I feel I’ve earned my modest but comfortable life.

Those early notes made up the oldest entries on this blog, as I’d go to the library for an hour a day to type them up. Then some of them formed the basis for my first novel: A semi-autobiographical flash fiction tale of a man, looking for answers among lost souls, while dealing with personal demons. Fast forward three years and I’ve published an anthology, an award-winning children’s book, and soon a second novel. My current typewriter is the year-old laptop my mum gave me (“I thought it might help with your writing”). My studio, in this tranquil little village, is just up the road from where George Orwell once lived. It’s all rather splendid. I earned it, I was optimistic, and I worked hard to get where I am. Temporarily at least, I’m happy. But I’m also restless.

Normally, happy people make shit activists: They lack the restlessness which drives change. A world full of them would be a passive and complicit place. But it’s being a commentator and occasional activist which makes me happy and was partly responsible for getting me where I am. And besides, peaceful civil disobedience is fun.

Sometimes when I was homeless, I wished I was a dog, because then life wouldn’t be so complicated. Dogs have such low expectations of life: Take them for a walk, throw a stick, or open a packet of biscuits, and a dog is happy. They’ve got every day nailed. But I’m restless; I question things: If I throw a stick for a dog, is the dog perhaps bringing it to me because he’s humouring me by playing along at what he thinks is my favourite game? In some ways, dogs are anarchists, depending on one’s understanding of the term.

Like my particular brand of atheism (I don’t deny the possibility of superior beings, I deny God in man’s image), my anarchism is refined beyond the stereotype of chaos often used to depict anarchy.

My conventional political standing is one of liberal socialism, but I see how that can be just one small remove from communism. My anarchism has its basis in the works of Naom Chomsky, who defines anarchy as “…a tendency in human thought which shows up in different forms in different circumstances, and has some leading characteristics. Primarily it is a tendency that is suspicious and sceptical of domination, authority, and hierarchy. It seeks structures of hierarchy and domination in human life over the whole range, extending from, say, patriarchal families to, say, imperial systems, and it asks whether those systems are justified. It assumes that the burden of proof for anyone in a position of power and authority lies on them. Their authority is not self-justifying. They have to give a reason for it, a justification. And if they can’t justify that authority and power and control, which is the usual case, then the authority ought to be dismantled and replaced by something more free and just. And, as I understand it, anarchy is just that tendency. It takes different forms at different times.” Anarchy is people working together, where exploration and discovery aren’t suppressed or monetised. Dogs do that really well.

What I’ve achieved over the last four years, I’ve achieved by working with the system, learning how it works and respecting those who work within it. I can’t help thinking though, that it all would have been a lot quicker if those people weren’t employed by government.

Life is like a jigsaw puzzle: All the pieces fit together eventually. But if you follow convention and complete the edges first, you’ll finish the puzzle too quickly. Think differently.

Cyrus Song will be published on or before 17.08.17.

And you’ve been so busy lately (time in the think tank)


If I could hang my hat on a short story I wrote, it would be Echo Beach. If I can hang my hat on a novel, it’ll be Cyrus Song. If anyone were tempted to read one article on this blog, I’d point them here for now.


There are many more short stories planned, as well as whole new books. But recently, I’ve had to move things around a little. I’m planning what I think is a very appropriate Christmas gift for my parents (and I’m out of the horror market for now). When you’re given the opportunity to look forward five years, certain plans take shape.

In my last blog post, I mentioned a book which I was planning for my dad. Now that I’ve had time to start plotting it out, it’s going to take longer than I originally thought to put it together. But I’ve resolved to make this book before I move onto the next one. Why would I post this here, in a public forum, and now indelible? The reasons are as simple as the ones I have for writing the book: To hang my hat on a blog post, step forward and offer the chance of final judgement for those who still hide in the background, and who will remain there.

I don’t seek forgiveness from any false deity, nor do I repent for my sins in the eyes of an unseeing God. My debts on Earth are repaid to the humans who matter to me, and those who will come after them. And they will attest to this, but not in a kangaroo court.

What went on (that would be me going into meltdown), is all squared with family and real friends: I got drunk. I was addicted (I’m still an addict, and always will be), I was on anti-depressants, which, combined with alcohol, can result in blackouts. But I re-live it, as it is not to be denied. I’ve got a medical record which convinced two tribunal panels that I am mentally ill, but otherwise well in the situation which took so much effort to win, and which now sits around me: A modest, secure home, with a social landlord, meaning long-term security. Now that I have that, I live as a diagnosed functioning alcoholic with chronic depression and anxiety. But I live: Perhaps some people will never be happy with the outcome. Finances are still lacking, so I have to make things. But I digress.

My mum (always affectionately referred to as ‘The Mothership’ here (Hi mum), because she gets me: she was a conspirator in making me), sometimes reads this blog. So am I spoiling a surprise? No. What this post does (if The Mothership reads it) is make a promise to her, in public. She trusts me now, based on the last three years of drawing ever closer as a family. So she knows that I won’t break my promise. And I know that I will be able to refer back to this post in five months or so and be vindicated in the eyes of remaining doubters. To be honest, those people bother me no less than an infection which can be ignored. My point with all of this, is to raise two fingers, with a sharp chop to my inside elbow and a reflex raising of my left hand. It’s my cure for cancer.

Will mum tell dad? Maybe. It doesn’t matter. The book I’m planning is one which they can both look forward to seeing in print. I’ve expanded my research a little, just into the history of the house and village where my mum lived, before she and dad lived together. The rest of dad’s life was spent with mum, in the same places. What occurred to me at first as a way to give a temporarily fading memory something to hook onto, has become more as I’ve plotted it. Now it will be a story of two people and how they left marks together, like names carved in a tree.

Every fine garden which my dad created and tended, will always bear his footprint. Every meal which my mum cooked, back in the family unit day, fed labour, and the imagination of a kid. My parents created the means to tell their story. I am that thing which they made, and this book seems an appropriate way to give something back and say a simple thank you.

I can write, compile, edit and publish a book, all from my desk. There will most likely be only a few copies given away, but the book will have an ISBN as part of the publishing process. My parents and those who know them will have a book. Anyone will be able to buy the book; a slice-of-life story from the Kent countryside (beware of spoonerisms). The bottom line is, I can immortalise my parents: I think that’s a nice gift from a writer, who was given the gift of writing (albeit unwittingly) by his parents. It’s something they can share. They gave me this IQ of 147, and now I know what it’s for.

And they are a proud couple, with every right to be. They are proud of me, and I will always give them every reason to be. They are proud to have such as a strange thing as a writer. I write bedtime stories for my kids now. So I can write a book which tells a brief history of how it all started.

All of which means I’m able to agree with myself that my future publishing schedule should go something like this(ish):

Cyrus Song: Now late August / early September, with 12 days left for final test reader comments.

Quietly, Through the Garden of England: Now the working title, being as it’s the journey of two people who would otherwise have gone unnoticed, but who made such a difference. I’m resolved to December publication.

Reflections of Yesterday (still the working title for an anthology): July 2018. I’m writing the fourth of 17 shorts for this: Longer stories, written in different personal circumstances from The Perpetuity of Memory‘s 25 tales. 42 in total.

Cyrus Song II: December 2018. If my confidence in the original is vindicated, this would be the right time.

Infana Kolonia: July 2019. This is still planned as a sci-fi epic but the current plot takes it to 1200 pages, so it needs some work.

Forgive me No-one: May 2020: My uncensored autobiography, if it’s noteworthy. And that all depends where eight published books gets me if I make 50. I don’t seek forgiveness from any false deity, nor do I repent for my sins in the eyes of an unseeing God. My debts on Earth are repaid to the humans who matter, and those who will come after them. Despite what’s in my head sometimes, with this plan in place, I hope I live to be my parents’ age. Maybe then I’ll be half as wise as them.

In the meantime, The Afternaut is shaping up into something really quite original, but which still sticks to the brief sent into the Unfinished Literary Agency. It should now be out in the first half of August, and I think the idea donor will be pleased: Not just with their idea being turned into a story, but knowing that it’s out there and that anyone could read it, if they had time.

And you’ve been so busy lately
that you haven’t found the time
To open up your mind
And watch the world spinning gently out of time
Feel the sunshine on your face
It’s in a computer now
Gone are the future, way out in space…

(Out of Time: Blur, Ben Hillier, Marrakech, 2002).