I’m fairly sure, now, I know where I was. Things had been building up to it, if you know what I mean.
When I say ‘last night’, I’m talking in temporal terms, obviously. The experience I had took place sometime between around 2am and 7:30am this morning. Since my mind was dreaming, though, the timescale for the events didn’t belong in that time at all. It was, like all dreams, non-local.
What I recall most clearly is the excitement, the enthusiasm, the anticipation my fellow protagonist and I were experiencing. We were family, although he had no obvious counterpart in my current life. I’d describe him as a sort of brother, maybe even a twin. All of our attention was focused on the task before us. Each of us was choosing a new adventure.
I can only describe what we were examining in terms of geometry. There were tubes – dark flexible cylinders or wormholes perhaps – overlaid with uneven grids and lines of bright, greenish light which intersected in interesting ways. Each was a different ‘adventure’. The tubes were the destinations, while the patterns showed different timeframes. We poured over every detail with intense concentration and excitement. The more complex the slashes of lines and the patterns they created, the more enthusiastic we became.
“Oh, this one looks interesting!” he would exclaim, pointing to a place where a diagonal crossed a group of parallel lines then veered away in a dynamic tick shape.
“Yeah,” I would laugh, “You might need a bit of help with that one! I could probably lend a hand there.”
Ever had your palm read, or an astrology reading? They are the nearest analogies I can think of. Every line and every crossing had huge significance. They represented the challenges, the exciting parts, the fun of this unique adventure.
Each of us was searching for a location and a timeframe within it that would give us a thrilling rollercoaster of an experience. There was no fear or trepidation, no hunting for the easy bits. We both wanted a full-on white-knuckle ride with plenty of problems to solve and puzzles to overcome.
Despite our emotional closeness, we were aiming for quite different adventures. There was no regret that we would be separated, but there seemed to be an underlying acceptance that we could, at any point, call on one another – and on a rather nebulous ‘back-up team’ who seemed to be lurking nearby – if we needed support at any point.
I was beginning to wake up – to return to the physical world. I didn’t want to! This was fun. There was another pattern on another tube I was desperate to explore. My companion, too, was still busily engaged in the activity. I managed to climb back into the dream state and spend a little more time there, but the physical body was becoming restless and finally shook itself free of that other existence, bringing my mind back to its daytime residence.
Now it was time to consider what I’d seen from a human perspective. Surely that happy, excited, fearless aspect of me had been wherever-it-is we go between lives. My companion and I had been selecting our next incarnation. Everything pointed to that conclusion.
As I said, things had been building up to it. Recent conversations, news items, personal experiences, channeled messages from others I follow on social media… even a friend who just yesterday re-read and commented on a post I had written several years ago. The message had been the same: We chose this location and this time in which to live this life. We chose it – warts and all – in order to give it our best shot and see what we could change, what we could figure out, what we could take on and deal with. Moaning, protesting, trolling or grumbling just won’t do any more. We judge and complain about our fellow humans but write them glowing eulogies and obituaries when they pass. We beg and insist that gods, spirit, world leaders, politicians and anyone other than us must change our lives for the better. No wonder so many channeled beings are metaphorically throwing their hands in the air and reminding us that we chose it, and we intended it to be fun.
So yes, I woke up to an overcast drizzly day in October and a world beset with challenges and problems galore. I’m off now to try to reconnect with the cheery, excited and optimistic aspect of myself I experienced last night and to bring as much of her hope and enthusiasm as I can into this amazing timeline and space I opted for this time around.
“But where was ME?” she demanded, her eyes filling with tears and panic.
They’re not truly dead, of course, those Muses. They are immortal – even the ones who consider themselves to be human. They’ve gone though, for now at least. Another one left this morning.
Now we’ve not been a pet-owning family. There was the rabbit, when they were kids, but none of them took much notice of it, once the novelty had worn off, and it was left to me to care for it. Still, he was set on this plan and duly acquired the most adorable little kitten. He lavished money and endless affection on the little scrap and the kitten adored him back. The pain and darkness left my son’s eyes and he positively quivered with the love he felt for his tiny pet. We all remarked on the change it had made to his life. The urge to care for something small and helpless was so strong in him – the parenting urge, if you like – that, once it was fulfilled, he threw himself back into his job and his life again and was the happy, resilient young man he’d been before.
Well no, in everyday terms I would never have chosen to have people I love suffer what they are going through. It is all too easy to blame the perpetrators. If those people hadn’t done those things, Life wouldn’t be this way. If those people hadn’t done those things, I wouldn’t be here, having to deal with the fallout, day after day. If those people hadn’t done those things… something else would have shown up in my Life to allow me to learn and expand and find ways of dealing with the issues here, because that’s what I asked for when I began this Lifetime, and that is true for everyone involved.
Each of them is traumatised.
I’ve been talking again – to Koimul. Koimul is something – someone. I couldn’t tell you, with absolute certainty, whether Koimul is a higher version of myself, a spirit guide or some sort of mixture of the two. In a sense, it doesn’t matter, since at some level we are all One. All I know is that when I enter into a dialogue with Koimul, I am reaching into the Akasha and picking up understanding that I didn’t have before.
As synchronicity would have it, I too acquired a curious crystal – in March of this year. It’s the one I found mysteriously sitting on a path in my garden. Three hundred and fifty-seven years apart, both Mr Aubrey and myself found ourselves pondering our respective stones with much interest and surprise. We both noticed that areas of the stones which had been cloudy became inexplicably clear, while other areas clouded. Our ponderings continued independently of each other until I reached the point in the book where he had made this discovery: a day or two after mine appeared.
I can’t do the double thumbs typing on my phone. I’ve tried, but no. It’s a single index finger, along with copious bouts of fury at the idiosyncrasies of predictive text. So it’s slow.
An interesting one this:
I suppose I could be spending those ‘given up’ Sunday afternoons pootling around Somerset in the car of the aforementioned friend, stopping off for a cup of tea at a garden centre somewhere. I could spend them watching old movies on TV. I could read a book or check Facebook. There are many things I could do. 
Yet I choose to hold groundbreaking conversations with a brilliant young man, whose originality and psychic skills never cease to amaze me. I choose to travel to interesting places – ancient sites, bustling cities or interesting landscapes – so that he can sit in his home, remotely view my location and, in ways that are a mystery to us both, send detailed sketches or written descriptions of the place I’m in.
More than that, I believe that every single one of us has a ‘pre-planned’ life purpose, or theme – something we’ve decided in advance to work with in this particular lifetime. That could be exploring aspects of illness/wellness, of poverty/wealth, of victim-hood/control or one of a thousand other explorations. Aspects of that pre-selected theme turn up repeatedly in people’s lives. They have been born in this particular era, at their particular location, the better to encounter situations and other individuals who will push them to explore and discover. Once a ‘lesson’ is learned, a new situation will appear, to allow the person to put their new knowledge into practice. That will, of course, throw up a new set of challenges and discoveries. And so it goes, until we finally decide (at soul level, usually) that we’ve gleaned all we can from that life. At that point, we move back into spirit and, perhaps, decide what we’d like to explore on our next sojourn on the blue planet.
“I hear Daisy has gone now,” I remarked to a friend.
It’s the third time recently that such an idea has been placed in my mind. The first was when I read a highly praised and undeniably well-researched and well-argued book called The Mind in the Cave. Its author, David Lewis-Williams, speaks eloquently and convincingly about the world view of our ancient ancestors – those who decorated caves and rocks with incredible images of animals, geometric shapes, figures who appear to be somewhere between animals and humans etc. It’s a great book, but for me, there is one huge issue I’ll be bold enough to disagree on. It’s what Professor Lewis-Williams terms ‘the brain/mind problem’. Here’s the way he resolves it (and, I’d suggest, the reason a book that deals mainly with ‘altered states’ has been so well received in scientific circles):
The second was a recent BBC documentary following three ageing British astronomers on a journey to recapture some of the finest moments of their younger days, when they had held eminent positions in observatories in the US, in the post Sputnik race-for-space of the mid-twentieth century. They were lovely guys and all had enjoyed happy and successful lives. Now, though, one was terminally ill and the others were in, shall we say, the late autumn of their lives. Unsurprisingly, as they trekked through the mountains, the discussion turned to death. One, despite his scientific training, clung to the Christian faith. He admitted he didn’t see much logic in it, but still felt comforted by the God he’d been brought up to believe in and the idea that there would be an afterlife. He mused, rather sadly though, that there probably wasn’t any need for astronomers in Heaven. His colleagues seemed to adhere more to Daisy’s view, and that, presumably, of Professor Lewis-Williams. When their bodies and brains died, so would their consciousness. That – obviously, in their minds – meant no further existence. As an 11-year-old I once taught commented, “I don’t think there’s anything after we die; it’s a bit sad really.”
It is a bit sad. Has humanity, throughout its entire existence, had to make an unpleasant choice between, a. trying hard to hold faith in a religion that often seems illogical and unlikely, or b. accepting that our brains are so great, they can almost have us believing, sometimes, that there is something beyond this existence, although they know that not to be true?
Looking at Life 