Auntie Doris’s Road To Publication #3: Talking to Grandma

GrandmaI have never been asked so many ruddy questions. I thought that I was in for a quiet life after I stopped writing a little homily every day, and let my nephew Michael edit the ones that I have already written. But ohh no! That would be too much to ask. Now he’s at me even more than he was before, incessant questioning about stuff. “What did they call my mother’s brothers and sisters? Did I know both my grandmas and granddads? Where did they live? When did they die? What did they ruddy well do for a living. How the hell should I know? It was all such a long time ago. Some of the people he is asking about have been dead that long that they have gone into The Meld.

For those of you that haven’t read all my little homilies, The Meld is the place where people go after they feel that they have been on the other side for long enough. When you decide to go into The Meld, you lose your personal identity, you just meld with everyone else in there. You can find out all about it in my little series “Auntie Doris’s Life on the Other Side

Any road once people have gone into the meld, it is difficult to ask them questions. Difficult, but not impossible. I have been learning how to do it. I suppose it’s nice to have a little hobby, and like I say, I am not writing every day now, so I have a bit of time on my hands, and it helps me answer all those ruddy questions our Michael keeps asking.

When I discovered that I could contact the land of the living from the other side (through my nephew) it was like learning a new skill. A bit like when young kids go to ruddy Hai Karate classes or whatever it is they do when they aren’t ruddy skateboarding in virtual reality or whatever it is that they get up these days. The thing is, they get better and better at it with practice and they get different coloured belts to show everyone how good they are.

Some of them don’t progress much. Some of them collect all the ruddy belts, and then give up. But some of them progress to the next level and start doing kung fu, and maybe even go on to become ninjas, and then do secret missions or what nots for the government or other ruddy clandestine organisations.

Any road, I have progressed to the next level of contacting other dimensions where you start learning how to contact The Meld. Course, I’m not much good at it yet. I’m only a beginner, and it’s not all that easy. You have to know what to ask, and how to ask it, but I can now just about manage summon up and speak to people who have gone into it. Well, as long as I have some connection to them. Family and that.

It’s not really them of course. It’s a version of them created by all the knowledge in The Meld. But then again, its as near as you are going to get, without actually going in yourself. And I’m not ready for that yet. I’m having too much fun where I am.

Any road, I had a chat with my Grandmother the other day. Or some spirit that was to all intents and purposes pretty much like my grandmother (on my mother’s side) It was a funny ruddy business, because I hadn’t seen her since about 1918 when I was about 4 years old. She seemed a nice old soul though, and was able to fill me in on one or two things that the nephew had been asking me about.

I reckon that eventually I might be able to do people that I have no connection with. Like Napoleon, or Genghis Khan. Not that I am all that bothered. I wouldn’t know what I would even have to say to either one of them, although I have always been fascinated by the Mongol Empire, I wouldn’t actually want to spend any time with its ruddy instigator. But you never know. I might be able to do requests one day. That would be a lark. But not until my nephew has finished the business in hand and got that ruddy book written!

3 thoughts on “Auntie Doris’s Road To Publication #3: Talking to Grandma

  1. It’s true – once someone’s dead you have to dig for information. Tell Michael just to do what many others do: when at a dead end, just make the information up.

    • What? Just when I am getting skilled at my new calling? You’ll be suggesting that he’s made me up before long. But you’ll be wrong. I am genuinely dead. I have a certificate to prove it. Signed by the coroner and everything. It’s in a biscuit tin in the gas cupboard. Or somewhere.

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