I was seven and a half when I found I was a social anathema and fifteen and a half when I forgot. I led a sheltered family life pre-school and was locked on my own in a storeroom at Nursery and Infants School by teachers to enjoy my autistic meltdowns to heaven without disrupting the curriculums and everyone seemed contented with that arrangement. I was particularly so as the Nursery Head Teacher had written a research dissertation about the savantism strain in my father’s family when she was a student teacher at that school as she taught my father and his five sisters, all of whom had Autism/Asperger’s Syndrome. Mine was more severe as my mother had it too.
But all Hell broke lose when I started attending Junior School, for the Teachers and Pupils there tried to kill me, four times a day, for the first week of term. So, realizing they all wanted it done, I tried to oblige by running away from home after school on that Friday night and ended up in 48 hour Near Death Coma 30 degrees below zero hidden out of sight in a self locking industrial freezer at the local ‘Co-op’ dairy.
My family was so hated that the village Police refused to join in the search for me and the village Doctor refused to attend me when I was found. I was frozen solid when the search party did eventually find me. My mother, who was a Nurse, therefore started laying me out and washing me for the Undertaker when they got me home. My finger, thumb and toe nails had all shrivelled up and dropped off. She put my toe nails into a jar as mementoes of me as they had dropped off inside my socks.
I was already in heaven. I had gone immediately I had put my body and brain in Near Death Coma in the freezer by going there on an Out Of Body Journey as soon as I laid down. I had been doing this practically every day since I was three days old. That was the first time my Grampa, who was my mother’s maternal grandfather, took me up to heaven to meet his wife, mum, dad, and gurus Gaea, Zeus and Hermes, my mum and dad’s gurus God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, my own gurus King David of Israel, Emperor Adrian of Rome and Saint Thomas Didymus of Galilee, and the keyholder of the Pearly Gates, Grim Reaper, who became a great friend, as we had go to travel through the Pearly Gates, there and back, each trip.
This was the main reason the Teachers and Pupils at school wanted to kill me. They all knew I used to go to heaven and back every day except Sundays, but thought that I did it by Witchcraft. That’s what the Head Teacher called me in Morning Assembly on the first day and reminded the rest of the school that the Bible says, Thou Shalt Not Suffer A Witch To Live. It was only a sport to them. Like fox hunting. I was the fox, and they, the baying and snarling hounds,
I understand why they thought it was Witchcraft. I inherited a mulatto bloodline from a hermaphrodite albino Prince who had spent time on Haiti in the Caribbean, and we were a family of ‘Born-Again Christian’ missionaries to save everyone from the evils of Satan. No-one knew Out Of Body Journeys and Near Death Comas were common, just not talked about, because they were scientifically inexplicable. It was not until several years after I had forgotten I was a freak that interest in Out Of Body Journeys became common, e.g., England (Cambridge University) in 1969; and, USA (Monroe Institute) from the 1970s.
The reason I forgot I was a freak was that my life went egg-shaped when I was fifteen and half. I decided it would be better for me to forget my past and focus on my future. I therefore hypnotised myself into contracting retrograde, anterograde, psychogenic and dissociative amnesias that shut my identity off, and didn’t get it back for 35 years, when I had a severe nervous breakdown which manifested in uncontrollable weeping from unresolved grief at losing relatives and friends that I couldn’t remember.
Thankfully, I recovered from those amnesias, and have only once gone on an Out Of Body Journey leaving my body and brain in Near Death Coma since then. That time my finger, thumb and toe nails only shrivelled up and discoloured. Now I write about my bizarre life of Autism and Asperger’s Syndrome and help other auties and aspies make sense of their suicidal and other self-harming behaviour.
It’s interesting to see that the American academic neurosurgeon, Eben Alexander, has just published what I’ve known for roughly 34 years (excluding 35 years of amnesias) in his new book ‘A Map Of Heaven’. I’ve been writing much the same stuff for the past two and half years. My wife drew it to my attention because he was being interviewed about it on the ITV program, ‘This Morning’, by our nation’s famous husband and wife team, Ruth Langsford and Eamonn Homes. It’s the first time my wife has ever shown any interest in this subject. So I have asked her to buy me a copy for Christmas, as I’ll be busy writing until then. I will be rehashing, and adding to, my previous books, and intend to publish the output on Christmas Day. I hope I’ll have as much success with my book as he will, no doubt, have with his.