The Orion Machination, just another quantumfuck novel

I'm bored with blogging which reminds me of columnists writing their boring views about sth. It also reminds me of Sex and the City and those brainless chicks, esp. Carrie Bradshaw and her dumb column about sex and relationships and shoes and clothes, even neglecting a writing deal with real life Matthew McConaughey who wants to flesh out the relationship of Carrie and Mr. Big, a part which he wants to play. So she rejects that offer and returns to New York and her dumb little column. Yes, I have seen this part on TV recently as part of a Sex and the City X-mas marathon, an episode I saw only till the commercials. Then I started to zap around again, zapping being the reason I encountered this now obsolete show in the first place.
Being bored I began to put into words this idea of a machination going on since ages which lingered in the shelves of my imagination since years.
OK, there is the beginning:

The Orion Machination

I.

I'm confused, very much so. And when I tell you why, you'll immediately understand. You see, I have no body. Not nobody, but NO BODY! And I don't know how I got there, I don't know anything. I have to figure that out. At least I have my mind to accomplish that. So I'm not completely helpless. I'm less confused now.

OK, I take a look around – yes, I can also see - and I see many people coming and going, some obviously policemen, some ambulance men. Their attention is fixed on something on the floor, a body. I move to it, smoothly, without effort: Lying on its back, I see blood stains in the breast, on the white shirt, obviously from two shots, one to the heart, or where I think the heart might be located, the other in the middle, where the solar plexus might be. I also see blood trickling sideways from a hole in the forehead, forming a pool of blood on the floor. And then I see the face, it looks somehow familiar and suddenly, with a shock, I see into my face. This is me, and I fully realize: I'm dead, and I black out...

When I come around, I'm still hovering over my face. I'm still fully realizing that I'm dead, and where there has been my body I feel a hole, and a loss fills this hole, so unbearable that I black out again...

Slowly I register that I'm here again. If I'm dead, why do I still have this feeling of me, of an I? I have to figure that out. OK, I have my mind, I can think. Next question: What has happened to me? I don't know. While trying to remember I detect that I can compartmentalise. Yes, I see quite some chambers there, one for each sense. In every compartment are stored fragments of the six senses. That's how I can remember. Yes, there are six senses, the five you all are acquainted with, and the thinking sense, the thoughts, the wanting or hating something, thoughtwise. And somehow all is connected to feelings. But I see only two basic feelings there: attraction and repulsion, wanting or hating something, nothing else. And that something can be anything: objects, body sensations, emotions, thought concepts.

OK, I'm less confused now, but still disturbed: who the fuck shot me? Who dared to take my body from me, my precious beloved body, with all those sensations. And suddenly I remember that fucking sensation, with my hard one entering that mysterious hot, wet snatch, a sensation I right now crave so enormously that it hurts. And I black out...

I am awake now, again. I'm up there, in one corner of the room as if magnetically drawn to that point where the surfaces of two walls and the ceiling meet. Down there, amidst the hustle and bustle of policemen and ambulance men, I see my body, again. This time its on a stretcher and ambulance men shove it out.

I try to remember who has shot me, I enter the visual compartment, I see pictures of myself in interaction with other people and I lose myself in one especially: a woman, a beautiful woman who obviously cares about me, I can feel her sugar, her sweetness, her person, her self, we are making love, slowly, bodies melting into one. And then I feel a bigger hole where both my body and her adored one has been, an enourmous loss overwhelms me and I pass out.

When I come to I wonder where I have been, how much time has gone by. And I remember passing out. Quite often. I have to stop that. How? Normally I have friends and their advice. But I have none now. No one there whom I can ask. No guardian angel, contrary to conventional religious or esoterical lore. And there is also no white light. And I try to interact with one of the remaining policemen but he doesn't hear me. Even when I shout. He just acts strange, as if in deep thought. So I'm all alone, without help, without being able to interact, an unable soul. Another wave of horror hits me, the thought concept "don't pass out" prevents that, I stay awake. OK, I've detected something new: I can steer my consciousness. I guess I am a soul who has to detect what kind of abilities I have. And I recognize again this feeling of me, of I, of being what I am...

What I need now is a safe place, a point of fixed location where I always can return to when I'm confused or have fallen off the track because I took a wrong turn, or lingered too long in some picture. And I remember now: the Egyptian Book Of The Dead, which obviously was never interpreted right. Because its all about a preserved body and well known objects used by the recently deceased, to which the bodiless soul, which embarks on a dangerous journey of self realization, can always return to and become quiet again. Of course there is also the magnetism of the pyramid, that additionally helps attract the soul when lost.

OK, my body. Where is it? And instantly I'm in that ambulance van, hovering over my body, which is in a plastic bag. Not much comfort there. But at least some secure location where I can turn to.

So back to the question: Who shot me? And why? I recollect how to enter the compartments of stored images, and I'm deep into one, a recent one, how do I know that? I don't know, it's just got some kind of invisible time stamp on it. And I see two men, hovering over my body, I'm in that body and it hurts, like a bad cough, like pneumonia, and one of the men, friendly eyes looking into mine, has words coming out of his mouth: "It won't hurt." A flash of his silenced gun, a blow on my head, a white light and then blackness...

Thus begins my novel The Orion Machination. It's about a soul who has just lost its body, it wants to detect who shot him, while amongst the living and why. But during that adventure it (or he, or the I) has to find a way of not freaking out every moment of being without a body. And during that journey he also detects that there is a conspiracy that exists on different planes, over millions of years, some with living beings so powerful that they can create life and live almost eternally, at least in earthen thinking patterns, and that the earth and its living beings are in danger of being extinguished by a dangerous virus: the human being which has been bred by genetically engineering a mixture of apes and their own species, a reptilian breed called the Anunaki, who themselves are servants to the Orion Reptilians... 
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Well, I have finished my several cups of Coffee con Latte, will continue with the novel next time. Think I will do it for a while in small instalments...