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Saint Lucia

How to be a fully conscious human being

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My dream begins way back in the night, and at my folks house, and, at the earliest point I can remember, I am looking for my socks. 

My folks are leaving - for a shopping trip, or for a weekend away - and I am in a hurry to get down to the library. But I have to leave soon, or the door will be closed behind me. I also need to find my jumper. 

My parents have left. I have failed to find my socks in time, and I have not found my jumper. In the living room there is light from cars arriving, and young people begin to arrive for a party that is happening since my parents are going away. Eugene has turned up and there are more people here - girls and ravers. 

I go into the back room, and there is a ravertard talking about physics - in particular, momentum. I say to him (among an audience) that momentum is velocity dependent on mass, and I talk about velocity having a hidden property, and I write down the equation for velocity on the board. That is a section of the dream.

Then Eugene is leaving for some reason or other, and I ask him for a lift to the library; the library which I could easily have got there in a quicker time had I gone alone. Eugene says jump in; we go - he drives backwards, and goes the long way around; I am annoyed about that. Yet it turns out that the long way is in fact a short cut to the library - however, along the way Eugene is pulled over by a cop, and I must leave the car, and consequently do. 

I am in the local park, and I find an alternative path to the library, which involves going past and via a certain underpass, that leads to a supermarket behind which (or, at least, down some secret paths) there is backdoor, and stairs, and, with the help of a young woman, I somehow stumble upon a secret level that has a staircase that leads to an underground and secret entrance into the library. I go in. 

It is closing time at the library. The librarian has given me the grace to search for the book I am wishing to borrow. I go to the appropriate section of the library, and I find the shelf I need. Meanwhile, with the library about to close, the librarian has been expecting me, so that I am asked to spend some time watching a video about myself. The video is played on a small television, and a classroom of children have gathered to watch, and the video is intended to incriminate me on some level. 

The video plays and is a series of scenes in which I have been secretly filmed in incriminating circumstances in different dreams. So for example, there is a scene in which I have been in the park, and have taken a shit in the bushes, and there were a line of people walking by all the time, and the cameraman has been filming me. I can see that I have been caught. And there are several scenes like this, and, once the video has finished, we can see there is a scene within the library in which the class have taken to drama lessons. At once, we see that there is a single member of the class who stands out, whilst the others take to acting, and this person receives a nasty smack on the face, from some chavvy young lady. It turns out the recipient is black, and that the attack was racist, and she goes and cries - that is, she acts like she is crying, yet she is really crying in reality. 

And then Boris Johnson, who is familiar with incrimination on a daily basis, is in the library. There is a short time before closing. He himself stands upon the raised stage area, and I am directed to a letter that has been framed upon the wall. I do not know who has written it, though perhaps Boris. I read the letter. 

Then I wish to find my book, before closing. But the science section is hard to find, and all I can find is the law section, and the legal philosophy books there. It contains books I have already read, but am anxious to start. It is closing time. 

The library closes and I am inside. It then transpires that there is a secret "after-hours" club with several juiced in members dotted around the library. I walk around. I find Tamsin sitting there, and she is nonplussed that I have found her: I never knew she was such a dark horse. She is reading on the floor. I am part of the club now. I think my own sister is here. 

But now it is time to leave. I go into an underground passage, and find myself in the stairwell behind the supermarket from before. The lady from before is there as well, and we are having difficulty finding the right stairs to the right level. But eventually we find the right level. We go home. 

Daniel. 

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Saint Lucia

There are ghosts

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There are ghosts. 

*Disclaimer*: I'm a paranoid schizophrenic.

You expect ghosts to appear as white sheets, floating at the end of the bed. But they're everywhere - in objects, in another dimension, in your heart. 

People keep dying. My auntie died last week. That night, in the throes of midnight mourning, I said goodbye. I wasn't amazingly close to auntie Ann, but I had a better relationship with her spouse, my uncle Mick, who died a few years ago. My heart goes out to my cousins, Gareth, Kirsten and Cathryn. 

What do I do to deserve these dreams? What it must've been, was that I must've spent the day taking notes from the wrong mathematics book. I'm so tired. But I need to give myself a few minutes to readjust. I've just had a terrible nightmare. Let me explain. Let the breath of God fall lightly across my lips. 

I wake up, in dream, and I'm dreaming, and there are several scenarios. The first is that I'm in my flat, and I'm playing my Epiphone SG, and I'm writing a new song, and it's got the flavour of a Led Zeppelin ballad. (In fact, I feel like I should be writing that song now, but I had to come here). And my flat is my flat. I notice someone has thrown something through my kitchen window; that is, there is a ball-bearing shaped hole in the pane - the pane seems quite thick, and I can trace the trajectory of the ball-bearing, and at once I do so, and it appears to have come from the nearby mental hospital, across the town. But the hole ceases up, and the hole appears to now have been made from this side of the window. And it is capped with a piece of solder. I know. Very boring. I know. 

Yet there I am, in this dark dream on this dark night, and I have a huge house that is haunted. And in dream I am working on this song - I have the chords in my head right now, and I wonder if they really work in real life. But there I am in dream, writing this song, this ballad, like Led Zeppelin. 

And halfway through the night, from the moment when I was going to sleep, to the moment I woke up, I was subjected, subdued, subordinated to the crying of my cats, and they kept waking me up, and I was in Catland, where cats themselves have a real life, a real existence, a real internal experience, and theirs is a huge reality, and I myself was drawn into it, and saw, when I woke up several times, that there was a cat in my room other than my own cats, and it was a human-sized cat, like a pirate size, and most frightening. But there you have it. 

There you are, and there I was, in dream, playing guitar and writing a song on my Epiphone SG, and old Rob shows up, and there he is, sitting there, Roberto, enjoying the guitar, and my flat is huge and there are steps leading everywhere, like Labyrinth. I want him to get a picture of me hanging on the balcony, and I ask him to take it - because, before, I was hanging on the bannisters, and I had thought, "This would make a good picture!" So I asked him to take it, and I've searched all around the house, for the correct bannister to hang off, and Rob has gone off, looking for it, and he's walking all around the house, and he's then divided into two... and there are now two Robs walking around the house, up and down stairs, and now there's a third... walking up and down the Labyrinth that is my flat, and in any case, I found where I wanted him to take my picture, and I waited, to see if the Three Robs would come together and meet over the other side of the hallway, yet when they came together, they turned into other people, and there was now Rob, and Judy (my dead ex), and another woman - a young girl. 

The picture was taken, and now I'm feeling tired. Have you ever felt tired in your sleep? That's dangerous. You might die! But there's a knock at the door, and in comes Eugene, my old best mate, and I'm very thankful, and he's here to skin up and watch the football, and I'm very thankful that he's here, and now Eugene, Rob and Judy are here. 

But they're not here for long. The next thing you know, I've gone back to bed, and I'm trying to fall asleep in dream, and that's dangerous - you could end up in hell. But now I'm alone, and it's me, and my guitar, my Epiphone SG, is with me the whole time, and I'm constantly trying to write this song. But there's a weird feeling; an ominous feeling, so I look out the window. And I don't want to be seen looking out the window, because people always look up at me. Yet I look out the window - I peer out the panes - and it is a dark and late night, and there is a man walking down below, among the Autumn trees, and under the dim lights of the streetlamp, and he's walking away to the right, down the road, and he turns back, and takes a look at me - a deliberate look at me, and it is most perturbing, and I'm nonplussed and scared. The man has disappeared (because he walked away). But then I approach the window a second time, still playing this Epiphone SG and writing my song, and I look leftwards down the road, from my high place up here in the window, and there is a woman. "Don't look up! Don't look up!" I think, but as she's walking, she looks up. She stares for a minute. I skulk back inside the room. Don't strange things happen in dreams? Whenever two things happen similarly in a dream, that's something of which to be wary, because that doesn't happen in dreams; that only happens in real life. 

Then, there is a woman in my room. I'm playing guitar... well, I'm trying to play... and she is a ghost, and she grabs me and takes me. She hugs me and embraces me. She is a black woman. She kisses me and grabs my balls, and I think, "She's going to rip my balls off!" but it feels good. And I'm still trying to play guitar. The woman disappears. 

I walk into the hallway, and there are people there. At a glance, I have seen Jimmy Saville, but I walk past thinking nothing of it. But then, as I go into my bathroom, he is there again in a different guise, and he says, "Why didn't you beat me up?!" So I think, 'Yeah, I should have!' and I push him back, down the hall, and now to the left, in another bedroom, there is another Jimmy Saville, lying on the bed, and a third, and they all look different. It is fucking petrifying. 

I try to wake up, and I'm so tired, but I shock myself out of it, and wake up, and there's Chris Cornell standing at the foot of my bed, in pirate gear, looking kind of short, kind of 'Pirates of the Caribbean', and it is fucking petrifying. I get out of bed and I come here. 

That's it, that's the experience. But it leaves me wanting to have a black girlfriend, and to write this song on my Epiphone SG. 

Daniel

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Saint Lucia

A dream of Chinese mathematics.

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Hello, 

I had a dream I was a mathematics genius, staying in China. At first I was staying at Kelly's, with her family, and we were dating, and talking about Mrs Sharago, who was the French teacher. We smoked a little and I suppose fooled around, to a degree. 

But then it turned out that Kelly's family owned a swimming pool, and I wanted a dip, it being a hot night in China. And that was fine, and I pursued Kelly in the pool, yet no advance was made. And Kelly's sister was not far away during the whole advance. It was a little humiliating. 

Yet, during the swimming session, which was a dip in the pool, above a golf course below, it transpired that I, being a mathematics genius, had stumbled upon a serious piece of mathematics, on which I had come to the conclusion that mathematics was not worth doing. And it was a fleeting and momentary realisation, and I thought nothing of it. 

Meanwhile, Kelly's family, living in a Chinese household, with several members :Kelly's father, mother, two brother's, a least one sister, and two small children, well they appreciated me. Yet it could not be foretold nor ascertained if my advances were from a loving perspective, or a sexual perspective. I handed a card each to the two children and named them tickets, and Kelly's mother said, "Tickets or God!" in a way of explanation to me. In any case I think I had outstayed my welcome. 

So, notwithstanding the fact that Kelly and I had had no sex, I went home and got to my abode next door, which was England, or English. And the first thing happened there, I received a p[hone call, the phone which was passed to me by some fellow, perhaps a postman, or friend. Yet the phone call was one that said I was to be taxed, with the loss of my mathematics course, for the fact of my realisation earlier, that mathematics was no worth doing, well, what with I myself being the mathematics genius I am, the world had caught on, and now mathematics in itself was deemed a waste of time, and I had destroyed the legacy of the academic subject. 

Yet I hadn't meant it. I had meant, in the approach to my mathematical insight, that mathematics was in fact a most worthwhile topic, and had meant to champion it. 

So then, it transpired that my own family was here living in China, my brother, my father, my sister and mother, and in any case, I had gone back to see Kelly to apologise profusely for destroying the western tradition of mathematics. But I had gone there, and Kelly's father was in the garden, and many were upset at me, yet all that was needed was that I explain my culture. And all the while, it seemed that either Kelly's family was in fact Chinese, or were merely ex=pats who lived in the Area, much like my own family were partly Polynesian. And my family had ended up in the garden of the family of Kelly, and we were beginning to discuss the differences between Chinese and Samoan culture, and in this dream I said, "We say Aloha, and this kind of means, 'How's it going?" And we all laughed in recognition of the truth of it = my father sitting there, over there, and Kelly's father to my right, and Ryan being there, with a guitar. In fact, Ryan's guitar playing was influenced by my own, and Ryan himself was a most accomplished player, and he is so modest, and was modest in the dream, yet was a most accomplished player. And I would like to buy Ryan a guitar, and might do so. 

And then, on a trip through the ex-oats' apartment, to have a wee, I found a packet of red fizz, and it transpired that this was the Chinese version of whiskey, and I was able and allowed to pour some out, and drank it. And then, of course, Kelly being the mediator of our excursion, well, she said and admitted that this was fine, and was in fact encouraged that we drink the whiskey. And the rest of the night was spent, the two cultures dinging and discussing each other's ways of life,. and in fact, everything was allowed, and we chatted and discussed well, and I even learned the new Chinese mathematics. Ryan was pursued in an advance by Kelly's sister, who was now a young Chinese woman. He was most happy, for he was nonplussed that anybody would find it in them to flirt with him at all, and was flattered. And in any case, the Saki was flowing, and the two cultures go on greatly. 

I vowed upon waking that I would like to learn the new Chinse mathematics, and realised that one thing wrong with the world is that the Chinese are not understood by the western world, and it would be something to investigate their mathematics, and culture. 

I woke and came straight here. 

Daniel

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Saint Lucia

A topological vision.

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Hello... wonderful!

The universe, that is, the night sky, that is, the world outside of human experience, when you finally realise your alien capacities, is in fact a large celestial body. That is, space as seen from Earth in the night-time (or daytime for that matter) is in fact an enormous moon that encapsulates the entirety of our vision. The light that dances as like unto stars, and the dolphin-like actions of the early morning Sun (when you actually look at it), they are craters in this moon. And our own Earth is a mere meagre piece of dust, that is set afloat in the DNA of greater beings, who would treat us like germs if they were made aware of our presence. 

That is what you learn when you can realise your extra-terrestrial status. ...Which is what I did! First, Eugene had made an appearance at my flat which was my current flat yet it was a somewhat nicer flat that I have. And Eugene and I had pizza, and played computer games, and drank Coca-cola, and then he left. Then, upon sleeping, I was able to transcend somehow my Earthly body, and I sent my anti-particulate body over to meet Nicolaus who, along with Roberto and in some respects Adam, were waiting patiently in his apartment for the arrival of my being - my anti-matter being! 

So I entered the abode, and stood inside the living room, and Nick and Rob were fully prepared for my arrival, and I sent out a signal, which was nothing more than an internal high pitched screaming, that permeated the entirety of the cosmos, and which Nick and Rob could understand. Yet there was Adam, behind the drums, perhaps not full prepared for the effect, and somewhat going through the motions, and full of lack of belief, yet somewhat to be worked upon, and the scream alerted the alien community. And the stars did shine, and I went and made a drink in the kitchen and read a book. 

Then, with a rushing wave, did the others arrive. They were in the capacity of Paul, Kerry, Adam Dagnall, and really just in that capacity, yet perhaps with a teeny tiny Emma Corr. And this company had heard, in the real world, or some strange goings on. They attributed said activity to the existence of aliens: Paul was the main Ghostbuster, come to bust the ghost of my alien anti-presence, and Kerry was there to back him up, but Adam Dagnall was the man who, in the midst of this gathering, had to ascertain the reality of my anti-presence... although none were aware that the activity was my own doing. The party began, and I was soon to become trapped and consequently sniffed out and snuffed out. Yet on a mission to collect something - perhaps some kind of alien detecting equipment - Adam Dagnall had left the door ajar, and I was able to steal out of it, in my anti-matter disguise, and onto the streets. I was free. And I left behind an Earthly party at the residence of Nick. 

Into the streets I went, and stole into perhaps Adam's car, a yellow truck, that I drove up and down and all along these streets - these American streets - and I began to look up to the night sky. Now in my alien anti-matter particulate disguise I was trusted by the powers that be, to be able to see this sky as a type of moon. Now, it was a matter of topology to be able to see it, yet the night sky, with all its stars and etchings which were craters on the surface of this, a universal moon that stretched away with gargantuan proportions, had upon it all manner of interesting divisions and impressions. One of these, may I explain, was the image of Gordon Ramsey's eyes, like a shining batman-symbol, with words I fail to remember what they were, shining down to tell us of this new topological resonance of alien provenance. Gordon Ramsey! Other resonances of this night-sky, which was like a gargantuan moon in reverse - a topological anomaly of extreme purport - were merely the lights and twinkling planets that were craters in such a moon. And someone was there. 

Someone was there explaining the entire deal to me now. A fatherly presence, who stood by me as I watched the night-sky, this moonlike gargantuan entity filling the universe in reverse, explaining that we are mere blotches on the DNA of other great and full beings, who are like Gods, but are like humans, yet we live inside their cells, and they are largely unaware of us. And he explained that, look closer and you will see, as the Sun rises what it is really made of. It was the beginnings of light, dancing like a wisp of orange paint across the horizon and among the clouds, and as it swished around - this alien craft of light and fluidity - it became the Sun, and I realised what the Sun really was in its capacity. And I watched this, the morning Sun, and it was like nothing I had ever seen, and I watched as it moved across from left to right, and was urged to take a closer look, and saw that part of the Sun unseen in usual living was jumping like a dolphin over the ocean, and was spilling of flares high up into the sky. And I had been joined by Kerry, who was watching the whole thing with awe. 

Now having seen what the universe really was, and the essence of everything it had to be, I could now go back to Nick's apartment, and did. When I arrived, the place was inundated and overrun with hundreds of dogs. These dogs were of all shapes and sizes, and were furiously running all over the place, and I was knee deep in dogs, and they were antagonised by something. It didn't take me long to find out what. I soon found, behind a curtain, at a window onto a small forecourt or garden in the middle of the house, and wrapped up in it were three cats. I recognised them to be like my own cats. And I was still alien; still anti-matter particles, and I collected up the cats, which were the cause of the distress of the hundreds of dogs, and I took the cats away, and then somehow the vision ended. 

A dream of aliens and topology no less. But calling them dreams makes pejorative a perfectly good vision, although now having written it down, the visionary aspect of the dream has become latent. Yet what I take away from this it the topology of the universe, to which I would not be privy unless I were in with the aliens. 

There, that's it. 

Daniel

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Saint Lucia

Down the rabbit hole

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Edited by Daniel Frederick Best, Wednesday, 20 Jan 2021, 15:09

Hi, how ya doin'?

In the park, near my mum and dad's house where I used to live, there is, close to the playground area next to the basketball court, a circular indentation in the ground on the grassy lawn where kids play football, and folks do exercise. The indentation is next to a park bench, and there is a rubbish bin nearby. 

The indentation is well known to all residents of Mill Hill, and people who go to the park know the indentation as a secret hole, through which it is thought that one can gain access to a park cafeteria in Australia (a bit like the one in Home and Away). However, those who have gone down the hole have mostly ended up at the park cafeteria in Mill Hill, at which there is a fete and some funfair rides. 

Today I parked across the road from the park, in my green Honda Civic, and got out and went for a walk in the park, and went past the indentation, which is a secret hole that takes you to Australia. "How I would love to go into that hole!" I thought, as I made my way to the cafeteria. Some children were playing nearby, and one youngster in particular was playing at the edge of the indentation. 

The cafeteria is run by some surfer-dude types, and they are always picking on me, teasing me to go down the hole. They have a little outlet that is known to stand upon a second indentation, and the structure is always wobbling around due to the instability of the foundation. It is thought that this outlet, where they sell Coca-Cola  and various surfing gear, is the other end of the secret hole which is the indentation next to the basketball court. Anyway, I went along, and was duly teased by them, and before long I walked back to my car. 

My car, of all things, had disappeared! I thought maybe I had mistakenly driven my burgundy Lexus instead, which was in its place. But no, my green Honda Civic had been stolen... And I thought I had an inclination as to whom had stolen it!! I was stood at the area of the missing car (which was outside the house where Peter used to live), when the culprit showed up! I grabbed him, and punched him, and took him to the indentation, and I threw him down it! 

There was a child watching - the same youngster who was playing there earlier on - and he fell in after the thief did (although not before a few games on the adventure building!) and I thought, "How I envy you! You lucky child! You get to go down the rabbit hole, and see what is down there!"

I walked back to the cafeteria. The surfer dudes allowed me to sit on their structure, the one that was unstable, and a lady who used to work at the local gym was ominously waiting for something to happen. And as I sat there, I could feel the structure waving back and forth, and I could feel the unstable foundation wavering beneath me. So I stood up. Yet the structure came with me, and I took it over to the first indentation, and somehow or other, I fell in! 

At first the structure, which was your basic rectangle made of two-by-four, at first it settled on top, but then it began to sink, and I thought, "Okay, we're going to see what's down the rabbit hole!" And gradually, I sunk into the indentation, with the soft mud surrounding me, and I was so far down, and... nothing happened! All I knew was that I was underneath the grassy indentation, and had sunk below and was expecting to resurface in a cafeteria in Australia. 

But then the muddy hole began to smell like caramel and chocolate, and the structure and I began to descend further into it, and soon we were floating, and I realised that we must be at the centre of the Earth, where gravity has no effect. 

And soon I landed and was on the ground, with the structure falling to the floor, and there were banks of mud, and there was a door. 

I opened the door and, beyond it, I saw the lady who used to work at the gym guarding the other side. The area was taped up and closed off, and I realised that I was inside a confidential zone akin to the likes of Area 51, and I quickly closed the door because I knew I would become a fugitive. 

There was another hole down here, so I escaped down it, and found myself back at the indentation in Mill Hill park. My car had reappeared, so I drove home. 

Anyway, that was my day. How was yours? 

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Saint Lucia

Good from Bad

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Welcome in blog!

Blogging about what, I do not know, but for journalistic purposes I continue. 

I guess the events of last night should be recorded. 

I phoned in to Iain Lee's Twitch stream chat show and, long story short, he hung up on me... after one sentence. Perhaps it was a difficult sentence, yet having written three short pages of things to say, I think his attitude was slightly rash. It certainly did not do my ego much service. In fact, I was most upset, especially since he said, immediately after hanging up, "I just couldn't be bothered with that!"

I suppose, ego aside, that I am just one of many weirdos who phone his show, that probably do not deserve respect. However, I find his show now to be compelling, and will probably tune in whenever I can. That's how I am. 

It certainly hurt, and was gutting, and it took a great deal of energy to recover from the incident. 

I had a great dream during the night, after a beer, and it was connected to something of a difficulty of my mind. I woke from it with a clear headed sentiment that I should repeat words in thought at least three times. And this! And this, after recently coming to the conclusion that somehow my schizophrenia requires a double take on every thing I say; that is, I should repeat myself, as a matter of acceptance of my condition, at least once on those occasional moments that I feel the action is required required. 

Now, however, my dream led me to realise that a third repetition is required. It was a lovely dream, wherein I was back at my childhood home, and atop the highest level, and listening to media, and watching media, and engaging in media from the internet, circa 2002, when I was at the pinnacle of the beginning of my academic creativity, and I was drawing and listening, watching, engaging, and I was loving it. And the moment when I realised I was to include a third repetition of thoughts, I was listening to a London pirate radio station, which helped me to come to realise my realisation, and what an apt source of media influence!  

When I realised it, it came to be the case that the entire known world was there already, awaiting my realisation, and my enlightenment was met by a knock at the door, which source was the presence of my happy brother and happy sister, and also more family, and I looked out the top sash window, and neighbours were happy at my own enlightenment, and I was able to joke with them, that "This man over here is mad!!" and they loved it. And yet, I have failed to enhance or outline the joy with which my enlightenment was met: It was the entire world that had sounded their approval, with cheering and clapping, and I had finally done it. 

I awoke, and wanted to emulate a piece of art, that had helped me in coming to enlightenment, that I had been working on in dream... and it was a fine and intricate abstract portrait of Soundgarden's iconic frontman, Chris Cornell, and I see it now. And the abstract part was that there was a honeycomb style texture, with vibrant colour, to the painting, and I wished to emulate that on waking, and came to the desk, and tried to draw it, but my dreaming talents are a far greater thing than that of my waking talents, although I do try! And also, I wonder at the content of what else I was working on, in dream. I would like to have seen the writing, or heard the music. 

Also, I heard my brain-voice for the first time in a long while, last night. It came, I suspect, from the stressful anxiety of such a public rejection as was incidental that night on the internet. I find that this type of stress usually gives rise to greater effort on my part to attempt to find my way back to happiness and contentment, that new avenues are found, and hence, due to this terrible stress, I did find my happiness and contentment, and found my brain-voice, and a hint of better cranial substance for future times, that has been lost to me ever since I was given medication. You may think this is no big deal, but it is the bane of my life that certain audibility of thought is lost when you must take antipsychotics, and I am glad I still have it available. 

I daresay this is an abstruse subject, but it is niche, and you are not obtuse in lacking understanding. It's me! 

For the sake of a concise blog, I shall leave it here. 

Thank you

Daniel

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Saint Lucia

The Heat Death of the Universe

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Hi, 

I just had a dream. The dream was this. There I was at mine, in my flat, and at my block there are five other apartments: my neighbour John, some muslims, some blacks, a family of five, and an empty flat. In the dream a fat Iranian lives downstairs, and so does John, and some Muslim bloke, and some others. 

During the first few weeks of lockdown I was convinced I was the Christ. Something happened on television that gave me a message and convinced me of it. I got my crown, and cried tears of joy at the fact. Yet I was still on weed, and when that first clap for the NHS happened, I had missed the memo because I had switched off the television. And I was running out of weed. So when eight o'clock came and, having deliberated to go out to get some weed, I went into the forecourt, the clapping began. In my mind I saw everything. I saw the whole world, because I remembered the idea being put out on social media, and I saw them clapping, and I saw the world world clapping because I was the Christ, and I was going to give them a speech and explain to them everything I had learned by the media over the past few days, that Coronavirus was a 5G implanted chip that goes into your mind, and that you can control like some sort of iPhone technology, and that you will have advantages such as being able to switch environments and communicate mentally, using telepathy but a designed version, and that we were working to... do something... stop the devil... something... I can't remember... But I had to give a speech at this clapping, and the entire forecourt of my apartment block was clapping, and I thought it was me. So I had to give a speech. I was accepting the applause, as though having just come on stage to adoring fans, and something in me thought they knew what was going on, in a way. And then the clapping died down, and I began to speak, and my thoughts evaporated, and all I could say was, "You're as confused as me!" There was silence all around, and I sloped off, very, very embarrassed. So much for the end of days. 

Later on in the week I was mightily upset at the embarrassment. The event had got to me somewhat, and also I had been unable to work on my physics module for three weeks due to being stoned and paranoid and mentally ill. And all that. I spent nights crying in frustration at my huge failure, and vowed to get myself put away. And the way I vowed this was to wake up the neighbours, with music, as though I had a plan all along. I still saw that I was the Christ, and I opened my windows, and it was five thirty in the morning, and I turned on my electric guitar, at full blast, and began to fill the neighbourhood with the loudest electric grunge concert ending I could, distortion blaring, feedback screaming, riffs chunking, the amplifier turned to the highest volume. At five thirty in the morning. 

What I saw in my mind was that we were in a new world order, and that people needed to come to Christ, and also, that Kurt Cobain was in my soul, and he was in the highest level of heaven, and speaking to me, and all the world was communicating through this new 5G microchip technology. What I saw in my mind was that the people would gather, outside my windows, and see this modern day rock star playing the most beautiful music of Elysium that was stream into the streets, as I, the Christ, would be world renowned for playing these tunes and this sound. And I played, and for fifteen minutes, the sound blared all across the neighbourhood.

After that time, however, I suppose it was even a bit much for me, so I switched off the amp, having failed again to bring Earth to the highest level of heaven, and there was knocking at the door. I answered it, and my Muslim neighbours were there complaining and most angry, saying, "It's six o'clock in the morning! My dad works for the NHS." What I could hear him saying was, "It's beautiful music, my father is in the seventh level of hell." And I felt guilty for stopping. 

The idea was that after two weeks of annoying my neighbours like this I would finally be sectioned and placed in a mental ward - Broadmoor or something - and that would be where I lived my life. So I played the next night too, and stopped, and there was knocking on the door, and it was another neighbour, asking me to keep it down. 

In any case the dream was about those nights. Here, in dream, I was somehow ended up at my Muslim neighbour's apartment, and was hiding in the bathroom, and he had left a note with Arabic writing that told me everything about how beautiful he found my music and how relevant it was, and detrimental to life. And now, and I fail to remember why, perhaps because the music was so loud, the police were called, and the Iranian man was arrested, and I was brought out of the Muslim neighbours house, and the police were there, yet I was not arrested. Instead, a female police officer seemed to turn into a psychologist, and she took me back up to my own apartment, and we sat there and talked, in dream, and then we had sex, and I killed her. 

And then I was on the run, but my amplifier was there, as was my guitar, so I played in the manner of those nights, and couldn't muster the noise enough to save everybody. Every time I turned off the guitar something new happened: I had to leave the flat, and go into the hallway, and there was my guitar and amplifier, and I would play, and time would be running out, and I would stop, and another level of the dream would arise, to a diminished effect. Then I was transferred to another part of the neighbourhood, and tried to save the world again with my music, again to a diminished effect, and another level of the dream. And, gradually, the effects being so continuously diminished, I ended up in some kind of bunker, where two young men, perhaps Dean and Lee (two from school days), would attempt to stop my efforts of playing beautiful, loud music on my amp, and in fact, the amp was losing power, and my leads would not connect to the fuzz boxes, and I could rarely get a sound out, and only revel in the glory of old days. 

And then Charlie was helping me, in dream, by arranging things so that I could play, and yet there was always this looming threat of immediate death encroaching, and I was in the neighbourhood. And yet Charlie was only holding me back, although I could not escape the inevitable, and the effects diminished further, and I was losing my battle. Eventually, Charlie took me to a room outside of which there was a scaffold structure, and there were more people, maybe Sara, and Ryan, and Maddie, and Aaron, and I hung from the scaffold, and finally, the music was so diminished that I ended up in a parallel world, where there only my brother Ryan's friends, and the world was usurped and drenched with water, with little mountains being covered by the increasing oceans, and it was the end of time. 

And it being the end of time, and my brother's friends being there, they were sympathetic to my plight, which really, in a nut shell, was to avoid being caught by the police for killing the female psychologist. And I had to go, and leave for the mountains, and on the way there was an old man, in his late sixties, who was sitting at the bottom of the stairs and congratulating me for a fine and wonderful music career, and Glastonbury loved you, make no bones about that! And there my brother's friends, all reveling in the joy of the end of the world. Then I went out into the mountains, and slowly but surely, the world was drowned in water. And it was the heat death of the universe. 

But then I was taken in to a complex run by old friend Eugene, and he was showing me how to use his new gym equipment, and we spent the rest of the time climbing up ropes and across bars. 

And it was the heat death of the universe. 

That was my dream. 

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Saint Lucia

A dream of the mothership

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Edited by Daniel Frederick Best, Wednesday, 10 Jun 2020, 15:47

Hello, and hello, and hello to you, 

 Yesterday was the first day after the completion of my course in physics. Well, completion in the sense that all the work has now been done - I still have to wait for my results, and this happens around the 21st of July, and I anticipate the day eagerly. 

Yesterday, there were two highlights of the day. The first was that I got to see Tamsin. We met in Hendon park, walked to the middle of a field, had a chat and played some rummy whilst listening to Audioslave. We were only there for an hour, and then I caught the 113 back to Mill Hill. The second was that I was able to visit my family home where I saw my mother and father, and my brother, and we had a nice chat, and I was able to have a lovely meal of a salmon pastry and beans with chili sauce. Everybody is most impressed with my exam and course completion. 

Ryan dropped me home, and I then tried to sit at my desk and begin working on my new project, which is to learn computer science. My efforts were to download the Python package and watch a tutorial on YouTube. Python looks to be the easier between that and C++, and I daresay I won't have a great deal of difficulty with it, and hence wish to be versed in the harder of the two, C++, for which I have a book, and for which learning Python will give me a better understanding. It is very early days, and I should be a little more advanced in this area, and wish I had pursued it when I became interested in it aged eight. I will take it as far as I can, in this free four months, and I'm sure it will be a great help to my studies. 

It was not long however, before the day began to drain on me, and I became sleepy, and desired to resume in the morning, and went to lay in bed and read Penrose. I have several of his books, and have been working my way through "Fashion, Faith and Fantasy", but recently bought his "Cycles of Time", with which I chose to make a start. I was asleep by 12:30 am. 

I must just say, to remind myself, that the course content is still readily available to look at on the website (not to mention in print), and it is a half-formed thought and desire that I do review it from time to time, to refresh my knowledge, and also to go a bit more in depth into the topics of which I was only able to get a basic overview: such topics as thermodynamics and entropy, and quantum gases, and nuclear physics and particle physics. The content there is about as comprehensive as one could wish, and it is well worth a further investigation. 

But this morning, having woken up entirely at the relatively late hour of ten thirty, I realised I had had a quite fascinating dream. I wish to relate: 

At one stage I found myself in the Caribbean, specifically St. Lucia, where I have been in reality, and where in dream I was walking around and holidaying with several of my brother'f friends, and including my brother. There must be some hidden neuroses about my psychosis deeply embedded in my unconscious, because they were made manifest in my conduct, in dream, in which I feel I was making  a nuisance of myself, to my brother and his friends, in an antisocial way. I seem to recall the presence of my father in a fleeting representation, but mainly Ryan and his crew. There was a room, a bit like a fale in Samoa, where the was a bed with white sheets, and a television, and bars in the windows beyond which you could see the tropical trees - mainly green and shining. But me, being a perpetual nuisance (somehow or other) to the boys of my brother's friendship, it was the case that soon the St. Lucia mental health services were involved. Now, we are caught up at the latter end of the holiday, and everybody was getting prepared to go back home. Yet now with the services involved, and Ryan seeming to be quite - I don't know the word - acquiesced to my loopy ways and means (which involved nothing more than fevered excitement as to my wanting to stay here), he was like, "Fine! It's up to you! Stay if you like!" And the services were fully involved now, and I was to be sectioned in the Caribbean! And the way they do it here, is by giving you the strongest anti-psychotic pill that you can imagine, and I was given a choice to take the pill, and told them, "I will take it, and take it happily." But I just took a lick of a dab of it, and it had a little effect, and I was still a sprightly nuisance. The services consisted of a black nurse and a chinese nurse, and they took me to a beach, and it was night. And they told me I was to be killed on the beach, by means of a gunshot to the back of the head, and I was fine with this, and distractedly went with them, ahead of them, as they followed me behind, and yet I still had this pill in my hand. I doubted that I was going to be killed, and as soon as the doubt entered my head, so did the bullet, and I died. 

And my spirit went up across the ocean, and I was never happier, and I began to be able to see the situation of what it is like to die. That situation was actually that you can see the mothership. The mothership is  an alien spaceship that is invisible to all those living, but when you die you can see the mothership, and this one was the Deathstar from Star Wars, and everything made sense. My spirit went up into this mothership, and I was back at home, with the aliens, and realised that I was an alien. I was in the mothership, and welcomed back home, and looked in the mirror and could see my true alien form, and there were others, and one of these was Lee Kern. Yet Lee was a representative of the Earth and he knew the alien language and I was able to communicate with him about the situation. Very soon, I was able to have the chance to have sex with a beautiful woman, and was given choices about which way I wanted to have her. It seemed somehow untoward to want her in the vagina, or anus, and I chose to have her without penetration. Such a choice, it seemed, was not in the right mode for me to stay on the mothership, it being the weakest choice, and I think I was sent back. In any case, the dream ended. 

Although, I stayed asleep for some two more hours, and didn't dream anything of note in that time, and I woke and made myself coffee, and smoked a cigarette, and continued to work on my computer coding vocation. 

I also had to pick up some prescribed sleeping pills, and read a little when I was at the Broadway. When I was home, I fell asleep for half and hour, then phoned Tamsin and told her about my dream, and then I came here. Now I wish to work on  my summer vocation a little, and make a prawn curry for dinner. 

And there's the long and short of it, and there it is. And there you have it. 

Best wishes, 

Daniel

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