A little over a week ago, I made a post I’d been balking over for a number of months asking for help confirming memories of a possible past life as Philip K. Dick.
I’ll be honest, I expected one of three things to happen:
1. I’d be swamped by negative comments from PKD fans and random strangers.
2. I’d receive a “cease and desist” letter from the Dick estate.
3. I would pique someone’s interest (possibly a white-knighting skeptic who assumed I had nefarious and deceptive ends) and they’d out me as “that writer who says she was Philip K. Dick.” Any prospects for a career would be cut short because, as I’ve admitted multiple times, my writing is okay but not that good..
So far, though, nothing has really changed. I suppose it’s a blessing in a way because I’ve been able to go about my life as usual so I guess that’s good.
It’s still a bit disheartening because I check my e-mail every day hoping someone knows something about the apparent memories I had. Without those, I can’t say one way or the other if I was him (or at least if I was legitimately mind-linking with whatever essence of him remains in the collective unconscious).
Attention really is a two-edged sword, isn’t it? If I don’t get enough, I can’t get the answers I’m looking for but if I’m insistent and get enough attention, it just might be the wrong kind of attention and I don’t want that. I’m not using all the tools at my disposal for that very reason.
Life goes on as usual, and that’s neither all good nor all bad.