Personal Blogs

Greetings, 

I have often been laughed out of science forums or philosophy forums for the ideas I have. There seems, in me, to be a distinction between true physics and fantasy physics; that is that latter is the topic I seem most interested in bringing to the table, and that interest keeps me going, and keeps me steeped in circles where I'm called a "quack" or some such other thing like it. I know I should concentrate on mainstream physics, which is where the money is. But some scientists are schizophrenics, and when they do science, the reach up for the less-low-bearing fruit that people are apt to avoid. I am such a scientist, and my goals are to consider those ideas which are less likely to be understood, but which can deal with the sub-topics of science which mainstream science considers "done-with". That is, for example, where does the wavefunction collapse take place? Will we ever be able to appropriate consciousness with computers? What is space? What are thoughts? Indeed, what is consciousness? These are questions which my mind is open to try to tackle. 

So, I would like to outline perhaps one or two of these ideas that have occurred to me through my career as a student of physics. The first is about time. 

Time, as we understand it, is simply a coordinate. It does not move, nor does it flow, but merely it is a conduit through which physical objects can move. But the claim is that time is a relative concept. In answer to the question of what time is relative to, we say: relative to the frame of the observer. 

But nothing in physics is measured in terms of consciousness; that is, there is no 'unit' of consciousness, and we cannot quantify it. So, then, what is time relative to, if the frame of the observer has nothing to do with consciousness? 

Firstly, I am given to suspect that we are wrong about our understanding of consciousness in this way. That is, if time is relative to the frame of the observer, then time is relative to consciousness. I can see no other way out of this. 

That said, if time cannot be relative to consciousness, that what can it be relative to? 

Imagine a train moving down a line. If you are on the platform, then it is clear to you that the train is the thing that is moving, and the platform that is stationary. Yet, if you are inside the train, then by relativity, you might feel that the train is the stationary thing, and that the outside world is the moving thing. This is a common view. 

And I feel time has a similarity. That is, in the world in which time 'flows' - and only in that world - time therefore must be expanding, or at least going forward according to the arrow which governs it conceptually. Then we might be in a position to ask, "what is time expanding into?" 

In this view, we might imagine that the present moment sits on an imaginary surface, the latter which expands in a direction toward the future. The situation is like that of an air bubble in water - although that doesn't necessarily expand, it just merely feels the compulsion to rise to the surface. The bubble is reaching out, and the surface is reaching into something of a recessive entity. Whereas the train is moving relative to the platform, the bubble of time is expanding relative to this recessive entity. What is this recessive entity? 

Perhaps it is the reciprocal of time, that is, perhaps it might have units of , where the unit of time is . Such a unit of the reciprocal of time, , is the same as that of frequency, hertz - strangely, that unit which some web sources claim is a measurement of consciousness. 

This really is the end of my idea about time. Make of it what you will, but be wary it is not mainstream physics; there is nothing in modern physics which has claimed this. 

*************************

I include a second theory of the universe. Again it is not mainstream physics. 

This idea pertains to the multiverse, which is considered in such branches of physics as quantum mechanics and string theory. 

Some physicists sniff at the idea of a multiverse, claiming it is not testable physics, and therefore not science. Sabine Hossenfelder, for example, says something like since we don't have access to these other universes, we have no right to call this science. 

But Sabine Hossenfelder is taking a view that is somewhat solipsistic. Let me explain. In her view, the multiverse is a facet of branching universes which come about at each decision. That is, in her view, the multiverse is an entirety of universes in which there is one human being acting out all the different versions of themself, in other dimensions. 

That certainly is untestable. But consider this. At the beginning of time there was a singularity. The evolution of said singularity was an event in which one lone entity divided into a many-entity entity. And in the origins of life on Earth, at one point there was a single organism which divided, and divided further, and divided further. 

But we are all connected to this organism, whether we like it or not. So, in some respect, we are the outcome of this branched event, and there are billions upon billions of conscious beings which have branched, up until this present moment. 

Considering that the origins of this primordial evolutionary organism which has branched over time were  singular, could we not also consider that we as conscious beings represent the branched into multiverse which is, in Hossenfelder's view, so unscientific? Why ask for a multiversal counterpart in another dimension, when we have our neighbours and colleagues next door to us? The question still remains, can we be sure that are conscious entities? 

The questions we have found to be asked are these: Are other humans conscious? Is consciousness quantifiable? Will consciousness ever be quantifiable? What is time relative to? How long is a second? 

This question - Will consciousness ever be quantifiable? - is a lot like the question how long is a second. I daresay that were I to ask the former question on such a website as Physics Stack Exchange, the question would be closed. But I would like to know if there are any studies into this question, whether there are any papers that might be worth looking at, or if any research whatsoever is being carried out on this question. I would like to know what progress we are making towards conscious AI. 

I would also like to know, if time, as goes the claim, is simply a coordinate, does it have any physical form at all? If time does not flow and it is static, then could we imagine it to be like a massive object? Or is it possibly a geometric shape? If it is a geometric shape, then which one? A circle or sphere? A triangle? Something much more convoluted? 

I will leave it here. But now, I am going to think of ways to put the consciousness question to Stack Exchange. 

Best
Daniel

There is so much bullshit in my life. 

But I'm beginning to suspect that my life is a simulation. My life is too perfect. 

It would be easy to dupe a man into believing he's travelled in time. 

I don't know where I'm going with this blog. 

I feel like my life is heaven. Like, when you die, you come into my life; you come into Daniel Best. 

Here, in this life, I could be the messiah. I could. I could work it out. 

I'm really an alien. 

I can say these things because I'm a well known schizophrenic. 

But if I died, I'd see reality. It's a simulation. 

I believe, in order for me to die I have to kill myself. It's sad, I know. God ain't gonna kill me. 

That's the blog. 

I just now awoke from a series of several illuminating dreams. Let me see if I can get them down. 

The first begins with my guitar - an Epiphone SG Prophecy - and my father, and we are in some room.... there is some concrete... there is another young man playing a riff... from Spinal Tap... and he's encouraging me to play, but my guitar has turned into a bass guitar... the strings are quite loose... 

Then I am at a funeral. It is the funeral of a local guy. And here he is... Lee is here... and we seem to be watching a film or documentary the film maker has made. There are several scenes, but the most illuminating one is one in which we witness, at the end of the funeral, a friend of the deceased throwing away some trash, and doing so with the adopted characteristics of the deceased, in a way in which to suggest, that when we die we pass on our traits to our friends and family; they adopt our traits. The film is very beautiful... Lee has done a brilliant job. The deceased seems to be an avuncular man, perhaps an Edgware character, perhaps my uncle. Lee walks off into Edgware somewhere, and I try to follow, but go another way. 

I find myself at home. My house is very beautiful. There are renovations going on, or the house has been recently renovated. The main room is my bedroom at the top of the house. I have a collection of little figurines. I decide to leave the figurines around the house. The figurines have an extra feature - say a small item that is placed on the base. I decided to place them around the house. And here he is... Scott is here. But Scott is nice... brotherly... the Scott we once all knew. My house is very nice and large... my guitar is in the bedroom. I leave the bedroom and go into the garden. Mother is there. There are a lot of people and a lot of rooms. When I go back up to my bedroom, which I must do because... here she is... Tamsin is here, I find the normal access has changed and I can no longer fit through the hatch. But I have given possession of the room to Tamsin, and she has been working on the decorating. I go in by another route, or do so somehow, and Tamsin has changed the room into a tearoom. By my recommendation, Tamsin has written a book. She gives it to me to read. I look somewhere in the middle of the book - she has amazing handwriting. But she urges me to read from the beginning, and I do so. The handwriting is worse. But the stories seem to manifest in the form of paintings on the walls of the tearoom, my bedroom. Tamsin loves me, it seems, and the painting depicts myself beneath a starry sky, reading a book, and we hear a bang, and I have shot myself in the head, and my soul has spread out - weakly - through the sky. Then Tamsin herself is depicted in the image, beneath me at the foot of a hill, and she is reading, yet her soul, while manifesting the same weakness, is smaller, more compact, and happier and closer to her head. The painting is beautiful. The book is really good. Tamsin and I lay on the bed, but we are not alone, it seems. Behind us, in the bed, is another man - a younger man - who seems like... here he is... Nick Warman... and Tamsin has been courting Nick for some time, and although jealous, I bite the bullet and accept Nick, and he seems like a perfect partner for Tamsin. When I leave the bed, I have his cum on my hands, somehow. 

That's all that really happened in the dream. 

Anyway, that's it. 

Daniel. 

By the best lessons ever learned, did I come to be a proficient labourer, probably. But there was a bleeding moonlight, that arched over the sticks of most nights, and that was bloody fags and I smoked them and wished to stop, and didn't care how. So, on this injustice of erasure, this childish pandering to British blubbering, there was a serious and frank admission, each time a rollie was smoked by these lips, each time a golden nugget was placed to the mouth, every time a biffa caused breathing to leave the lungs funny, then we would have to be late to the woods, and find each of us verily leaning towards the failure of that old bloody attempt, to be better in the face of an enemy. 

The drab seeds of the frantically wrenched personalities, the replaced and replenished the trees and bushes and thirty years later, the scene was not so desperate. But by loving was safest, by summer was rainiest, by watching the clubhouse of the builders we raised this message, this personal message, that reached out and faced itchy wastelands, and did all this work for that one master, the one who shall needs die. 

Most would have caught on that it's okay to write like this, provided you have someone to kill. And for now, the final message is, that the director of this passage is one you have realised kept personal the final message, and perhaps once, perhaps twice, perhaps more throughout the day, the director is backing the future, to know that all is forgiven, all is settled, and everything is fine. It's all good. 

Hello. 

What a nice night of internal imagery and imagination presented in a most cranial way I just had. 

I won't tell you about that though. But just so you know, it was lovely. 

I think the current post I write will go on about your regular theories of time and space, space and time, spacetime... For instance, I've been on a meditative tip recently, and successfully so, and not to keep quiet about that! The meditation has been deep and I've been deeply, deeply relaxed and massively and hugely open to internal and cranial susceptibilities, such as those of time and space, and spacetime, etc... I'm actually ripe for the theorising, so let's get to it, and theorise, and do it well, for all and sundry. 

What is time? As we know it, it is the ticking of clocks, it is relative, and it is common to feelings of boredom or excitement. Time passes slowly for the bored, but if you're excited and manipulated, it goes fast, too fast sometimes. It passes at the relative rate of one second per second, is a tight little invisible concept, and herein lies the very interesting thing about time. It is invisible to the eye, like many things, and passes, and when we look, it disappears. 

For example, there are many features of physics and the natural world, that are seemingly invisible, and can only be experienced in a somewhat indirect means. One may take as an example, the first if you will, of water. We look at water and we wonder how something that is, something that has a form, something that is an object of sorts, is actually clear, and in many ways invisible. Water must have been one of the earliest primordial intellectual concerns. These days we have no qualms about it, it's natural. But I suppose children might think about why water is clear. Once we know that we are witnesses to a liquid made of sparsely jiving particles, we no longer worry. 

And then, as another example, there is oxygen - air! Primordially, we may not have understood about air, and from antiquity we have realised that we have before us another substance that is completely sparse and jiving. It is something, yet it is clear, see through, we love it, we know it, we feel it, but we can't see it. In any case, it is clear, there is something to be said about things being clear. 

As another example, and yet more invisible, yet clearly palatable, is gravity. Gravity is inscrutable enough that we have had to be surreptitious about it for many years, and we only recently began to understand this. Newton was of the notion that gravity was some sort of action at a distance, and Einstein realised that gravity is a curved spacetime. Gravity is a strange phenomena that seems to match this notion about invisible concepts. 

Yet another example to go on would be the reign of inner experience itself, which is invisible, so invisible. How might you explain to an alien who has visited Earth from far away, that we can touch and feel, that can sense things by touch, that we have sensations? Furthermore, how would we explain that we are able to harbour an inner intuition and harbour knowledge. In fact, it is only by common familiarity that we are able to do this for other humans. Thoughts are invisible, yet they are physical; we cannot see them, yet we know about them. 

So, the fifth example of invisible phenomena is, obviously, time. Now, time passes at a rate of one second per second, so in effect it's value is naturally just one. Time, therefore, is one, like consciousness. 

But what I'd like to say about time is this. If you can imagine a sphere, which incidentally is rotating in all possible directions at once, perhaps at the speed of light, perhaps the rate of the magnitude of the acceleration due to gravity, think of this. Take a vector on the sphere, tangent to the surface, and send it round the sphere. Whichever direction you move the vector, it makes no difference to the constitution of the sphere. A cube would be different, for keep fixed the vector in that instance and there is always a way of telling your orientation. A sphere is always the same, and thus there is only on direction on a sphere. And this is like time; time has the single direction, i.e. always forwards. Time only moves forwards, in this one direction, unlike space in which we can move forwards and backwards and all manner of directions. This, I believe, is a matter of entropy, which is the idea that time can only move in one direction, and that there is in fact an "arrow of time". 

One other thing I would like to point out is that, in the context of this single direction, there is a deeper notion to be seen. And this is that time is not merely the fact of a value moving in a single direction, but moreover the fact that there is a direction at all. This might be seen to be going the way of dual space. The dual of a time vector would be a dual time vector, namely, the fact of a direction in the first place. This is fundamental, and in fact, time is a fundamental fact, a fundamental value, and the value of time is one. 

To be continued...

I think my mother wishes I was dead. 

Dear mother, 
Do you wish I was dead? I know we don't have much in common, and therefore we don't have a great deal to talk about. But have I really outlived your expectations of how long I should be alive? 

It's very sad isn't it? But I feel this way, because after our argument in the car that other Sunday, not only did you not talk to me for a week and a half, but you pounced on the opportunity. 

I feel like, perhaps, maybe you think I think I'm better than you. I can't help feeling that you'd be a happier person, in the long run, if I were dead. You're constantly communicating to me that I'm not good enough. You constantly blame me for ridiculous things. You're never happy with me. I always feel like I've done something wrong. 

If you were more that way inclined, then I could talk to you about this. But you don't listen, and you don't talk about these things. I have to stew in my own juices about these issues. 

I love you mum, but you're inscrutable at the best of times. 

Daniel

x

It has recently occurred to me, that most people are not in any appreciable amount of pain at any one time. 

Most people, it seems, are able to go about their daily lives all the while feeling fine, feeling good, confident, attractive, and mentally well. 

I thank these people for their fine contributions to society, and our socialist system of benefits, for keeping me alive. 

Actually, I know I need to die, to take away the burden of me. But that is a future endeavour. 

For now, I will concentrate on finishing my degree, on making music and art, and looking after my cats and friends, Tommy and Charlie, and friends Charlie, Roberto, Massimo, Lee, Eugene, Sara, Aaron, and Tamsin, and any others I have failed to mention, and my family, Ryan, Corina, Julie, Fred, Rio, Rocco, Sia, Fiona and Dayne, Phoenix and Montel, and cousins and all the rest. 

I don't really know what else to say this morning. 

Curious and enlightening dream just now. 

I had gone into town, and was waiting outside a nightclub, lying down against a poster board, and I'm looking at the stars. Lee comes up to me and suggests we go in; apparently Ross or Ollie is inside as well. But this time, I decline and say, I'm happy having a good time just looking at the stars. And there are numerous stars in the sky, and some are flying about, and this confirms to me that there are aliens. 

Actually, prior to this, I have been in a tutorial, in dream, and the lesson concerns science and maths and a graph. The graph is a partly sinusoidal curve, with a maximum to the top, and a maximum to the left, and we work out together an equation that describes the motion of the curve, and it involves the equation

So, sitting - laying - at the side of the nightclub, I have this equation in mind. The sky is filled with life: stars shooting from left to right, satellites zooming all around, and a Chinese weather balloon makes regular appearances above the Thames, In fact, the latter drops a package to the ground - it explodes in a display of light and noise, and reveals presents of popcorn and other delights. I start to eat the popcorn. 

I find myself going into a small hut next to the river. In this hut, like a small classroom or boardroom, there are three other people: two young women and one young man. The young man has a degree from a brick university, and complains to me that I "must be one of those Open University people." I tell him yes, and consequently go on a diatribe about the nuances of brick universities. "You get to finish your degree in three years," I say. "And you get to come out and go into a job where you write words for a living, and you get paid £50 a word for your job!!" And I think, although the young man initially tended to look down on me, eventually he had some respect. I leave the hut, and walk through a courtyard. 

In the courtyard are university students eating lunch, although it's way past midnight, and I see an Open University tutor - a portly man with a bald head and a blue shirt and ID card around his neck - and I shout out, "I go there!!" and the man says something and backs away, and as he does so, I shout, "What is to become of me??" The man disappears with a smile on his face. 

Then, having followed the man, I find myself in a large hall, quite sparse, but like a banquet hall, and somehow or other, somewhere along the timeline of events, I have ended up singing one of my band's new songs to a crowd of people, and one of those who hear it is the young man from the hut, and he is impressed, and so was I! 

Then, next I was walking along the riverbank, with those Chinese weather balloons making regular appearances in the night sky, and dropping packages of popcorn that explode in light and noise. I notice that the weather balloons' appearances are highly regular, that is, they drive along at highly regular intervals, and whenever they do they drop a package in an explosion, and I think to myself, I find myself talking to some girls at the side of the river, and I say to them, "For some reason, I'm not very attractive to women." They recount that perhaps I should go for male partners, but I decline. 

Then, finally, I enter the nightclub. I walk around and find myself at a pool table. A black man approaches me and offers me a game, or some whores, and the whores are black women. I say to him, "No, I'm not interested," and it's fine, there are no repercussions. I leave the club. 

The sky is filled with activity. The Chinese weather balloons shoot past frequently in the sky, dropping packages, and each time they do, I think

The end. 

Daniel
x

Today I managed to meditate for the sum total of an hour and a half. It was good meditation, and much needed; and very necessary - I was aggravatingly stressed out. The first half and hour simply took me perhaps to a less-intensely stressed-out state of mind, but I came out of it still with your particular mode of non-relaxedness, and consequently made some burgers for dinner. As a matter of fact, once cooked, I dropped a patty on the ground, but still ate it all up. 

Then, post-burger dinner, I went back and took up meditation once again. Of late I have entertained a notion of communicating with aliens, via training of consciousness, the latter which I believe is of such fine frequency, that it would not register on a physical measurement analysis. The practice, given its due, has led me to a particular technique: that of "remote viewing", which deserves more to be said. 

Remote viewing is a set of protocols that would enable one the ability to see deeper into spaces or objects, than one would normally. That is, one may imagine the view beyond a wall, or into a closed box, or into somebody's personal arena, or indeed into the spaces of extra-terrestrials, be they aboard a ship, or merely chilling indoors. 

It has become a great technique for me, that enhances meditation, by giving it a goal, not to mention a means to an end. I've only used it now for a week, but I must say, the employment of its use is the most natural thing on Earth. That is, the way I use it and have been using it is to visualise by imagination what it must look like to see myself floating above my head, in the situation of a God's eye view. Imagine it now! Just picture your head from above, and see that it takes no effort at all! 

One day many years ago when I was freshly medicated I found myself transitioning to the effects of this new feeling, and among many other experiences, such as hallucinations (meagre and nothing as they were in comparison to the enlightenment of previous experiences) and beautiful visualisations of the phenomenal world (which I saw was "classical" and vibrant), laying on my back to sleep of a night, I followed the train of a thought, which turned into a point of light, which became a picture in my mind, which revealed itself to be an image of my own face, and it was accompanied by a high-pitch noise of intense vibrations, and because I hated the sight of myself, the image disappeared. Nevertheless, ever since, I've been convinced about the truth of the existence of outer-body experiences, despite never having repeated the experience. 

But I believe, and fault me all you like, that consciousness is not restricted to only first-person internal experience. I can say this, because I am a schizophrenic, and not an academic, and I have a layman's mind. That is, I believe everything about and around us may have a type of consciousness, however simple. In fact, I wonder at the idea whether human consciousness is as complex as you can get, and whether God's consciousness is a simple matter. 

When you remote view, it is plain to see that the practice not only is effortless and natural, albeit only accurate to a diminished degree, but it also has a soothing effect on your immediate social influence. I will say no more about that, except to say that society enjoys the calm member, and to remotely view yourself as though in the throes of an outer-body experience is massively calming. 

In any case, I recommend it. Please try it, if you can! 

Many thanks, 
Daniel. 

Happy Chrimbo! And Merrington Chrimbobulations to one and all! 

It appears that the conspiracy is such that Covid-19 was planned all along, to ease us into the waters of World War III. 

But we could be each destined to move to our own planet! The world doesn't turn for it's own accord, and there are many options open to us to make. 

The almost fourteen billion years it has been since the birth of this universe has left us in early days yet! We are young! Evolution can develop to many much further outposts.

And consciousness is the micro-expansion of the local universe. 

We think about death too much! 

Hello to all, 

Now, I'm not entirely sure as to the meaning of this post, what I'm going to try to say, or why effectively I'm writing it. But to put it succinctly, I've decided that I'm certainly a subjective idealist. 

Last night, within the hour before I went to bed, I had a meditation session. I did my usual practice: starting by breathing in through the nose, and out through the mouth, and saying "I am aware of my breath," twenty eight times, from twenty seven to zero, and I was generally relaxed throughout, and whenever I realised my thoughts were distracting me, I would acknowledge them, note them, and return to the breath. 

I do this every time, and in fact, for some time it has been my practice, and I aim to go for an hour, but mainly only reach half an hour or forty five minutes, before quitting. And it has served me well. I've taken the relaxation and blissful happiness that results as a good enough consequence of my practice. 

But last night, as I pursued this practice, I decided at some point that I would aim for a two hour session - although, as to the time, I am guessing, and do not look at the clock. And consequently, as the thoughts came in and distracted me, and I acknowledged them and continued to focus on my breathing, I realised that my mind and breathing had led me to a state of existence that one can only call "nothingness". This state, as it is, was intermingled with sporadic and fleeting sensations of some really quite beautiful and psychedelic images, that were thick and full in their right, and looked at times as like coloured foliage, and at others like the ocean or sky. And these were images of heaven, I took it. 

But at some stage, I took even these images as distracting thoughts, and would note them and return to the breath. And in so doing I arrived upon that state of existence called "nothingness", and would enter into this state, until I realised that I was inside it, and then the thoughts would come. And I would note the thoughts, and come back to the breath, and would enter the nothingness that was this blissful state of existence. 

It is a lot like sleeping, I noted, although you are not asleep. It was a lot like a sea of black, and a lot like death, although you're not dead. 

I came out of the feeling, and lay down on the bed, almost accidentally. It transpired that I had meditated for exactly one hour. 

The feeling, I may add, was not inherently a pleasant one, although I feel that it is worth further exploration, and that I now have a better view of what I'm supposed to be aiming for in my meditation. 

Whether I have attained nirvana, or an enlightened state, it would be nice to say that I have. But the nature of my mental illness is such that I was left with a kind of disturbed feeling, that perhaps what I experienced was not quite right. Nevertheless, as I say, it is worth pursuing further investigation. 

As for being a subjective idealist, you yourself may do well to search that term, because I have no inclination to give you an extended account. However, I will say that it requires that we see the physical world as made up of elements that are connected by the mind. That is, all ideas of waking life - a tree, for example - exist within my own mind. But what it is that differentiates the waking life from dreaming life, is that the conscious experience of all others is substantial in creating the reality of ideas in waking life, whereas my own dreaming life requires no such condition. 

My conception goes further, to say that nature exists in the mind of God, that is, in the imagination of God, and this produces a law of nature, that we need God to be the father, just as God needs us to be his children. That is the relationship that is required for the whole concept to work. 

I could go further (but I wish to close soon enough), and say that empirical conceptions, such as constructions of the physical world like created objects - coins, ornaments, clocks, etc - adhere to this notion, whether the creator is alive or dead. But when God created the world - perhaps He did so at the beginning of time, and hence left it to run by itself - He did so alongside the notion of humanity, or man, or humans, and we are connected and necessary to one another. I digress. 

That is my contribution to society today. 

Daniel

What did I just dream about? 

It's five thirty am. I woke up, slightly tired, about an hour ago with inclinations to write a facebook post that some people may or may not deem to be quite funny. I forwent the opportunity, for lack of funny ideas. 

Nevertheless, having gone to sleep at about eleven o'clock, I went into a sleep that was themed around the trip to Greece of a young man who happens to be my cousins young son. Said young son has been the subject of my cousin's wife's recent facebook posts, and for some reason they had a small effect on me. 

I remember a feeling, last night as I slept, of a type of anxiety, that the boy himself may be having a turbulent time of sorts, at once stage opening my eyes at hallucinating that his image was hovering above my bed and intermingled with the shapes of objects set about the room. Quite, quite unnerving. I hope the boy is fine. 

I dreamt about something else meanwhile, but the memory escapes me. 

However, the main dream I had, when all turbulence had calmed down, was that I was sitting in my family's living room with my father and a man called Scott who used to be my childhood best friend. 

We were watching the world cup on television. Suddenly, my father hands me a beautiful, large silver coin with an intricate design etched into it, based upon the world cup, and in particular, a British coin. The coin is heavy and feels very, very valuable, and my father and I talk about it, and my father watches the football. There is a commentary on. 

At one point, with Scott sitting to my left on the settee opposite the television, and my father somehow sitting in front of the television to my right, as like unto a small child, I ask my father what he is thinking. In fact, it is a very pertinent and imposing question, more like a challenge. "Dad," I say. "Are you thinking?" 

"Yes," he replies.

"Tell me what you are thinking."

"When?" 

"Now!" 

I say this, and then my father starts lucidly and fluently talking, telling me things on his mind. I can see his eyes, bright, brown and clear, and his monologue is fascinating and fulfilling to me. 

The coin... now, the coin being very heavy and solid and valuable seems to have been constructed from constituent coins. That is, it seems that one may take the coin apart, for it to be constituted by other smaller coins, and this feature is what has made the coin so heavy and valuable. There is a constituent smaller five pence coin, and another constituent fifty pence coin or ten pence coin, and it feels wonderful to piece it together, like parts of an intricate watch. 

Then it seems my father has had a revelation and wants to do a piece of writing. For inspiration he asks me to talk - to "Just say anything!" And so I start talking and do so fluently and clearly, and whatever I say seems to cause my father to engage in writing his letter a bit better. 

But he seems to be struggling a little. Struggling, I say, in the same way that I myself may have struggled to write a letter in the heyday of my religious inspiration. That is, my father keeps restarting his letter, and crossing things out, and rewriting them. Well, it is and isn't like that. Effectively, my father writes a paragraph, and he addresses it to me, and everything he writes is perfect. It is humorous, succinct and pertinent, although with a few crossings-out. It is inspiring, and makes me wish to write a funny post on facebook. 

Then Scott also begins to write. It seems the theme of the dream scene is writing, and Scott is also writing me a letter, and he writes it in his own style - mainly humorous, in his own humour - and he says some very funny things. It makes me a little jealous, truth be told. 

I had an idea, then, to wake up and write a humorous post on facebook, that spoke on the theme of "How to write a funny post on Facebook, at a moment's notice!" 

Well, that post did not come to fruition. Nevertheless, this one did. 

That's it. 

I hope you have a good day. 

Daniel 
x

Kiki and the seven items of Mill Hill. 

There is a group of friends in Mill Hill whom each have go through a test in time to earn their own personal item - an avatar - that gives them special powers. 

Paul is playing silly buggers with his friends in Mill Hill park. He is hiding his rather large penis in the foliage nearby where several girls have been sitting, and telling them there is a surprise in the undergrowth. When they find the surprise, it is Paul's penis, and it is most amusing. 

But Paul has a guitar, a twelve-string acoustic, which, when the police are summoned to arrest him, Paul has hidden in time. 

The park is huge, like a reserve, and has many trees and valleys, and Paul goes missing one day. 

Daniel also has a guitar, and he was supposed to play it to the group one special night. But Daniel has gone in search of Paul. 

Daniel finds Paul, in the midst of an ancient age, and Paul has special powers, and reveals to Daniel that he had to go through a series of trials before he could master his guitar and achieve these special powers. 

Dean is also there, and he has to master his nunchuks, which were hidden in the forest of Mill Hill during the Chinese age. 

In any case, Paul has returned to Mill Hill park in the present time, and he is training Daniel so that he may master his item, an acoustic six string guitar, when the time comes. But Paul and Daniel have to overcome their own difficulties before they are able to progress to master level. For instance, when Paul was playing silly buggers with his willy, Paul claims that the police only intervened because Daniel hit him on the willy a little bit, which in addition, caused Paul to cum a little bit! This has been on Paul's mind for all eternity, and Daniel says, "Sorry Paul, it was just a little smack!" The issue is resolved, a little. 

But there is a crack of thunder, and an item comes flying out of the sky, It is a taikwondo stick - it is spinning through the air. Sarah, a friend of the group, is able, with deft skill and amazing talent, to catch the stick in the midst of a martial arts spinning jump, and she catches it right in the middle of the pole. The skies light up with her reward: GORGEOUS!! says the huge message across the sky, and fireworks and stars go off, and this is Sarah's avatar, her item, and a hole opens up in the ground. The hole reveals a burning pool of lava, and the ground burns away gradually, as the hole gets larger, and friends are sitting about the pool of lava, whilst the legacy of how to beat the lava ball at the centre is revealed, by a ghostly voice. The hole is increasing in size, and everybody manages to escape the lava ball in the centre, which burns the ground all around. 

Daniel, in particular, escapes, and jumps on a crocodile, his companion in the quest to find his own item, an acoustic six-string guitar, and the crocodile/alligator speeds off towards the forest of Mill Hill, and sees, in the daze of travelling a great momentum, the return of the same alligator come back from the forest, in the future. 

Beyond the forest is a vast plain, whereupon all manner of safari animals are grazing, and they are unfortunately in danger. Daniel has to climb a tree, reminiscent of a tree that once existed in the Mill Hill park days, and to avoid the danger, has to reach the very top, which is constituted of very thin branches, and he ascends. 

Will Daniel reach the top of the tree? 

To be continued...