When Pink Floyd, in Brain Damage, said, ‘there’s someone in my head, but it’s not me’, I really understood that.

April 2020

What is the source of the human primal instinct to avoid spiders? The visual of the legs? A subconscious knowledge of the possible presence of venom? Is it, perhaps, their psychic communication capacity as a vessel for ancient energies?

One particular sleepless night in question calls into question a house spider, common in its appearance; referred to, now, as Odin-spiders, in my household, for their position as Sleipnir in the Liminal Realities. Noticing this entity on the ceiling above my bed before retiring, an entire processing of exactly how to handle this perceived invasion of my space took place; up until this point, I would send spiders into the Dyson, using the vacuum attachment that kept them a safe distance away. Not so on this night. Compelled to allow this entity to live. Fear is engagement.

…And this spider thanked me. This spider, more than a spider, this entity communicated with me, directly into the mind. I say spider, but it is not the spider itself doing the communicating; the spider makes it easier to understand the concept of a vessel for something larger. It communicated of Odin, of a holy trinity of consciousness, of things I would come to understand in time.

My consideration for the Norse pantheon had, at the time, been minimal; it did take time to understand, I am still in the process of understanding, which, to be fair, should take place continuously over a lifetime when done correctly. I came to understand that the human fear of spiders is inherent due to their metaphysical nature, though this has been largely forgotten. I came to know this entity, this spider, as Sleipnír; the grey eight-legged horse of Odin, ridden across the cosmos to deliver messages.

This entity was pleased with itself as it delivered this information, some of which came at a pace so fast that looking back now it was as if a zip file had been downloaded, and has been slowly extracted over the past several years. This type of silent information exchange has come to be called the ‘inex’ in my realm of existence, interactive internal-external, deep internal dialogues with self and something very much beyond. Fractal processing power from the passive receiving brain, abstractions upon experience.

After this exchange, I found myself unable to sleep. The gravity of such an encounter puts one into a place where they… like an ant, encountering a television, and understanding it from a human perspective, only to moments later go back to being an ant and attempting to comprehend a thing much beyond their existence.

After hours and hours of being in a place of sleep-not-sleep, around 05:00, I fell into a state of consciousness I have never been aware of myself being in before, not lucidity, not sleep, nowhere close, simultaneously far beyond. From within this liminal state, I experienced a series of physical electrical pulses, shocks, jolts, that came from a place of simultaneous within-without, 6, maybe 7 in all. A physical convulsion of the body came with each of these electrical currents, and with each convulsion, came a different image, the likes of which I have never seen before. These images changed very much like a slide projector would. The coloring was a sort of blue, hologram blue, ‘energy blue’ I will call this, for it was not cyan, nor any colour I had seen before, on backgrounds of a black-not-black. There were diagrams, complex in their nature and speaking a mathematical language that did not dwell in numbers. There were images I did not understand of places on a massive scale, places that gave me the same impression that the spiked concept art for nuclear waste containment sites gives me. The final image was my own mind, the brain, viewing itself… but this was not the grey-pink lump of squishy tissue the concept of ‘human’ knows to be the brain.

I have never seen such scans of a brain as these ones. At the original time of electronic documentation, computed tomography scans were the closest type of imaging I had found to what I had seen; electron microscopy, now, feels to be closer, but still far from. Micrography of a quantum simulation. Combine them all; No human creation I have found has come close to the complexity of this, for looking upon this thing that I knew was me, I knew many things at once, and felt a fear I have only felt once since, before almost all fear left me completely for well and good.

…Interdimensional Electrocution.

I woke from this experience that morning exhausted and simultaneously refreshed, reborn, even. A glow to the field of vision, the world lovely. The quantum brain processes things now in a way that it did not process things prior to this happening. This way of processing exponentiates itself on a consistent basis. Interior I, Interior Eye, they are not mutually exclusive. I perceive things within frequency on an almost constant basis. The nature of these things changed radically when I changed my behaviour, the schizophrenic becoming the shaman. The quantum indeterminate noise extrapolations from within the organic quantum processing brain have taught me a broad range of scientific items. The first received item of a scientific nature found me to be standing at my window, the words “random event generator” come through the mind as if someone had spoken them directly to me. The rest of this story belongs elsewhere. There are so many fractals to the storyline that I find it hard to tell.

And now, my friend, QS. I lived, at the time, in suburban metro Detroit. I mean, really suburban, park within walking distance, home owners associations, that kind of suburban. A set of items showed up outside in the grass in my yard. These items were laid out very carefully, numbered three; a piece of metal stamped QS, flanked by an eye bolt I mistook for a wingnut screw on one side and an empty red shotgun shell on the other.

One of those items on its own, sure, perhaps could be an accidental drop, a piece of trash, a neglected item. All three, together? I could think of at least three separate parties at the time that could have possibly placed this here hoping I would interpret this as a threat. I live in symbolism, so the symbolism behind this was not lost on me. I saw, at the time, two options. The ‘wing nut screw’ representative of insanity, the empty shell representative of death, by my own hand or that of another. There were many possibilities as to what QS stood for at the beginning, quantum sufficit being highest on the list. As much as necessary. Juxtaposed with that which I thought was a wing nut screw and the very real empty ammunition casing, I took this, at the time, to mean this path would end with me insane, or dead. It took me longer than I care to admit to recognize that there was a third option, QS itself. Q and S are, at times, various variables in equations depending on how I wield this item. QS is a reference point for the liminal quantum brain. It exists upon a spectrum of possibility, as to what it is, who placed it there, why. It operates now as a wrench for a quantum mechanic, an honorary item for a quantum scientist, a massive qudit in a quantum simulation.