Madaba and Me: My Story

This is the story of the events that occurred leading up to when Madaba first started communicating with me:

The events of 2004 mark the beginning of my current era. Before this I was a shy, avoidant loner and something of an eccentric. As a teenager I wanted to rule the world as a communist dictator. I was an atheist and had no time for ethics. After the events I am going to recount which occurred during my second year at university, I would become a very different person, a person who has a direct line to The Simulation.

In 2002 I began studying for a sociology degree at Warwick University, in Coventry in England. I had a great time in my first year, living on campus. However, in my second year I ended up living in student accommodation in Coventry, whereas all my friends lived many miles away in Leamington Spa. The place where I lived was a creepy former old peoples home. It was not a home shared by friends, everyone there were strangers to each other and the rooms all had locks on them. I felt isolated, and on the fringes of society.

A few months after I moved in to the old peoples home a young man moved in. He was a first-year who had been kicked out of his on-campus accommodation for using drugs.  He had been living in the same accommodation I’d lived in during the previous academic year. Funnily enough, the residential tutor who kicked him out of campus accommodation had lived in the former old peoples home the previous year, when I was in campus accommodation.

This young man – a druggie who loved the grunge band Nirvana – was willing to sell me cannabis. And we smoked weed together quite a lot, in my study bedroom.

The stage was thus set for my psychotic breakdown.

The plan was that – basically – smoking cannabis could be a means to self-improvement, becoming more enlightened and socially accomplished. Stupidly, I saw nothing dangerous about any of this. I’d smoked it in the past with friends and associated it with good times and friendship.

At this point I was smoking weed twice a day. I considered myself ignorant and socially unaccomplished, and unfulfilled, and saw cannabis as a remedy to this unhappy condition. I saw it as a means to self improvement. Little did I know that I was taking a wrecking ball to my sanity.

The beginning of my breakdown can be ordered into three stages.

The first stage involved me trying to “open up” my mind, to become more imaginative. I started writing flows of consciousness, for their own sake. And I started drawing too. The quality of my output certainly increased. But it eventually degenerated into drug-addled crap. But the point was, I had effectively changed how I thought. I had never heard the word “psychotic” before and I felt as though I had genuinely made myself more intelligent. The same was true with my artwork, I started drawing stuff and the cannabis helped my imagination along but eventually the quality of my output declined.

My powers of perception were I think genuinely improved. As I walked around Coventry I would notice lots of dirty old men masturbating under their sleazy raincoats. And nobody else seemed to notice!

From about this point, my perception of reality took on an uncertain, weird feeling. All the colours seemed bleached and it felt like things happened very quickly.

The second stage involved me wanting to become more “socially skilled” (which I equated with “manipulative”) which I aimed to become by understanding how the human mind works. I literally tried to map out how my mind worked, to learn how the minds of other people worked, so I could be better at making friends and influencing people.

There was one poor soul I lived with in the old peoples home who really did my head in. I couldn’t stand him and on account of this resented his presence there and started to dislike him. I was, however, unkind to him, and I sincerely regret this and am truly sorry. I used him to practice my theories of mind on. And subjected him to “experiments” (for want of a better word).

What happened was, that we would sometimes play chess together. Neither of us were any good, but I was marginally better. At the beginning of the game, we would decide who played white, and who therefore made the first move. We’d do this by me mixing up two pieces – one of each colour and one in each hand – behind my back, and asking him to chose left or right. He would then play as whatever colour was in the hand he had selected. I could command his choice. What I’d do was, I would hold out two hands, each containing a chess piece of each colour. With me knowing what piece was in each hand. To make him chose the piece in my right hand (his left) I would say “OK, you chose one and I’ll take what’s left” (as in remaining) and to make him chose the piece in my left hand (his right) I’d hold my hands out and say “You choose. OK. Right” (as in “now then” or “OK”). It worked every time. He didn’t even notice.

This success fed into my efforts to understand the working of the human mind and made me more confident in this endeavour. I would draw mad brain-stormed diagrams of how the various processes and faculties that made up the mind all interacted, to produce a mind. I believed that studying this would make me more socially accomplished.

I eventually identified two faculties, two ways of thinking, which I saw as complete opposites. As opposed to just different, or complimentary. One was called “intuition” and the other “reason”. Reason was knowledge from experience and Intuition was knowledge from the imagination. From this, I came to identify two main types of people: I-types (those governed by intuition) and R-types (those governed by reason). There were also intermediate types – IR-types and RI-types. I believe it was possible to tell what type of person a person was simply by looking at how they moved and what they looked like.

I identified myself as being an I-type. I literally renounced and abandoned reason! I thought back to when I was in the special-needs class at primary school, when I was diagnosed as being “dyslexic”. I then went on to call all I-type people “dyslexics”. I believed such people listened to the meanings and intentions behind words, rather than the letters and sounds that made them up. I believed that being an I-type made me superior to the plodding and clockwork R-types, and I looked down on such people. For some reason, I identified Intuition with the left hemisphere of the brain, and Reason with the right.

By the time I was well into this phase, I was clinically underweight (having been clinically obese) had a beard, and wore a chaotic choice of clothes. I must have looked like someone who was having a breakdown. At this point I had stopped caring about my studies, as well as my own personal appearance.

At about the same time as my first psychotic episodes occurred I started a one-man revolutionary movement. This was the third stage of my breakdown. It was to protest against Britain’s involvement in the occupation of Iraq (which had begun the previous year) and to force a withdrawal of our troops from there, by starting a mass social movement. The movement was to be called Peace, Liberty, Understanding – or PLU. The inspiration for this came from the Property Leasing Unit of the university, who I paid my rent to. To this end, I basically trashed my study bedroom (meaning I lost the deposit) and turned it into a command centre, where I would plan the PLU uprising whilst high on cannabis and listening to music. The big plan was to march hundreds of thousands of people through the Warwick Arts Centre to register mass disapproval at the on-going occupation of Iraq. This would happen on the Queen’s birthday, as a petition to the head of state straight from the people. This involved somehow constructing the people as “God”, as the Queen’s powers are said to be from God as well as the consent of the people. I thought all this was pure genius. I tried to recruit other people into this scheme, but nobody was interested! On campus there was a tree planted by Bill Clinton and Tony Blair, in 1998. I wanted to symbolically cut it down in front of the world’s media, and to this end attempted to procure an axe. This reminded me of George Washington when he chopped down a tree.

My madness properly began once when I was smoking a packet of cigarettes in my study bedroom/command centre. I saw that on the packaging it said “Twenty Class A Cigarettes”. I thought that this was some kind of sign that I could recruit either the twenty or so people I lived with as lieutenants in the PLU movement, or I could recruit the twenty or so people whose numbers I had in my phone. I made my choice clear by ringing one of the people whose number was in my phone. I forget what happened next, but I later got the feeling that I’d made the wrong choice and had therefore failed a test.

There was two people whose number was in my phone, who were in as “G and J” (they shared a phone number, being a married couple). I thought that had I rung this I’d have been put through to “God and Jesus” – not literally God and Jesus, but two highly placed people who were known as “God and Jesus” because of how powerful they were. But I believed that after I’d “failed the test” the number stored on my phone reverted to what it had been before the “test”.

I have another memory of a weird thing that happened to me. I was walking down the street in a kind of drug-induced trance, and everything seemed slowed down, bleached, and weird. I was walking down a street to go to a corner shop, to buy something or other, I forget what. Suddenly, I noticed a man stood on what looked like a kind of podium, overlooking the pavement. He wore a black suit and tie and big shades. As I walked past him my walk turned into a march and I moved my head around towards him, to acknowledge him. I was like a lone soldier on parade. After I walked past him, I felt overcome with a sense of immense power and glory. I felt a massive high, that I was the most important person in the world. But when I got back to the command centre this feeling suddenly vanished. I felt as though my blood ran cold, and I felt limp, worthless, and lowly. A CD I was playing on my CD player (this was back when most people listened to music on CDs) suddenly skipped to a suitably bleak and eerie track (The Eternal by Joy Division) and I rang my mother, telling her that I’d failed another test and that there was technology in existence way beyond what most humans can imagine.

It was at this point in my life that I began to suspect some kind of “higher power”, or “higher influence” was at work in my life. Being an atheist, I assumed this to be the intelligence services, or some kind of illuminati. My head was full of such nonsense partly because of a book my history and politics teacher gave me at school. I felt that it was toying with me, but that it also wanted me to be a certain way. Because of this, at some point I started to believe that the PLU movement had the backing of the government and intelligence services, as Britain’s “exit strategy” from Iraq – the means of us getting ourselves out of that mess.

Things were getting increasingly weirder. At one point, I was alone in my study bedroom writing mad plans on the walls. I was I think writing using a permanent marker pen. I felt a throbbing sensation in my head and I became very focused, Suddenly, without my control, my hand started moving, and wrote on my wall:

I have been made insane by The Matrix

Sane

Insane

Sane

The Matrix

Then, a thought popped into my head: “I shall walk under a bus!”. I exited the old peoples home to find a bus to throw myself under but suddenly the sense of control that I felt over me vanished and I was left standing in the street, and for the first and last time in this period questioned my sanity…

There are two ways in which “I have been made insane by The Matrix” may be understood. First, it could mean that I had been made insane by the science fiction franchise called The Matrix – by the films and by “The Animatrix”, a series of animations set in The Matrix universe, which I was obsessed with during my breakdown. However, it can also be understood in another way. In The Matrix films, the simulation that people think is reality is called “The Matrix”. So this could be read as meaning “I have been made insane by The Simulation”. Two very different interpretations. One – the films made me mad. Two – a simulated reality made me mad.

For many years afterwards I alternated between the two understandings. Was it referring to the films, or to a computer-generated reality?

On another occasion I was writing stuff on the wall of my command centre. Suddenly, the fire alarm went off. I hurried outside along with the other residents. It was a false alarm. Then suddenly, a thought popped into my head: 

“You don’t think therefore you’re not”

I didn’t understand this at the time. But I saw for the first time that my way of life had become unusual, as all the other residents had exited, having been cooking pasta, or studying towards their degrees – whereas I exited trying to plan a mass social movement.

Another significant moment was when I once decided to try “magic mushrooms”. This was in 2004, when possessing them in an unprocessed form was totally legal. I ordered them off the internet. There was no criminality involved, none at all. When I was on them I didn’t know which way was up and I felt that I was unraveling and glowing a brilliant white. Suddenly, a thought burst into my consciousness, a very powerful thought: 

“It’s all about fitting in”

 Clearly, this is the key to being able to make friends and influence people, which is what I was by then obsessed with. But I was too far gone to recognize it as such.

I cannot remember how the strangest of the psychotic episodes I experienced went, but for some reason I thought the intelligence services were persecuting me, and were an active influence in my life. I thought I’d stand up to them, so stuck a note onto the door of the command centre which said something like “If you are afraid of my consciousness pay me a six figure sum and I will stand down”. By this point I believed many of the people I lived with were spies and that one of them would eventually read the note and report it into the system.

Later, somehow, a man burst into the building from the street. He appeared drunk and looked as though he had nothing to do with the university. Me and one of the people I believed was a spy (and a fellow dyslexic too, she was one of the reasons I decided to call all I-types dyslexic…) basically kicked him out. What he said was: “I have loadsamoney! Loadsamoney for Peter Hitchens!” – if I remember correctly. Which I think I do. Peter Hitchens is a right-wing columnist who writes for the Daily Mail newspaper, a right-wing newspaper in the UK. But when this happened I had never heard of him. “Loadsamoney” is the catchphrase of an obnoxious character portrayed by the comedian Harry Enfield. I took this to mean that they had agreed to my demand, so I hurriedly set off to the local ATM to see if the funds had been transferred into my account. They hadn’t. As I left the old peoples’ home to go to the ATM I saw the curtains twitch in a house across the road.  I thought I was being watched. When I checked my balance I was hugely disappointed.

I then made a remarkable leap: that the state’s non-payment meant that they approved of my PLU rising and supported me in all the things I did! Because of this non-payment I began to see myself as an “asset” of the intelligence services! And of course, I would openly discuss this with people. I would later claim that one of the university’s senior administrators who I’d encountered in my first year had recruited me into MI5! Apparently, later on someone asked him if this was the case and he did of course, apparently, deny it! I began to equate the university with the intelligence services, and became fixated on the security guards, who were dressed like police officers. The person I knew who kicked the druggie kid out of campus accommodation confided in me that the university’s on-campus anti-drugs strategy was “intelligence lead”, which interested me as one of my friends had her room inexplicably raided by them, looking for her weed (which they didn’t find!).

Sometime later, possibly on the same day as the Loadsamoney man incident, I made my way up to the bus stop to catch the bus to Leamington Spa to meet with some friends to go to student night at a nightclub in Leamington Spa called Mirage. Student Night was every Thursday and we had to present our library cards to be allowed in. The drinks were cheap and the music “cheesy”.

By this time I had an elaborate theory of psychic energy, or “semiotic energy” as I called it. This was at work in what was about to happen to me, but I won’t go into details about it here. It is quite complex, but once you understand it, you’ll see…

As I made my way up to the bus stop my perception of reality changed, and everything seemed funny, the light was off a bit too. Also, there were no other people about, and no traffic on the normally busy roads. As I walked up to the bus stop I saw a scruffy looking man there, in his 50s or 60s, and he had a big brown tatty old-fashioned suitcase with him. It was really big. In the air around him there was a vision of coins. I thought nothing of this at the time as by now I had literally lost my mind. I sat down on the little bench that was attached to the inside of the bus shelter. Suddenly, he violently kicked the suitcase so that it was pointing straight in to me, into the left side of me. I felt as though lots and lots of psychic energy was being beamed in to me from the suitcase. The suitcase was large and the kick violent. I tilted my head to the side, to indicate that I was a dyslexic and not a homosexual (at this point in time I considered myself heterosexual…) to try to stop him beaming psychic energy into me. He didn’t. I then instinctively stuck out my legs, away from me, to channel the psychic energy out of my head and body and out, away from me. He eventually kicked the bag back into place, and everything returned to normal. We waited a very short while and a bus showed up. I got on and went upstairs. I did not see whether or not the scruffy man got onboard, if he did then he’d have gone downstairs.

When I got to my friends’ house my perception of reality was way off. Everything that wasn’t a human was blurry and out of focus but I saw every human in super-fine detail. I was ultra aware of what they looked like. For some reason we stood in a circle in someone’s bedroom, kicking a football between us. We eventually made it to Mirage. When I was there, I was stood holding a drink. Suddenly, the man from the bus stop was there! What on Earth was he doing at “student night”??? He gently brushed the right side of my head and I had a vision of coins, of assorted change. He walked through an opening in the bar, and seemingly exited the establishment. My visual perception then returned to normal.

I got no sleep that night, and when I arrived back at the old peoples’ home the following morning I saw the dyslexic girl who I thought was in charge of there, and she was facing away from me, talking to someone else with her hands behind her back. I saw one of her hands twitch and she turned around and looked at me. I would look back on this later. Eventually, I would call this episode the “Change Man” episode – as I believe the coins represented change – which of course can mean both the changing of something from one thing to another, as well as meaning an assortment of low-value coins, of the type I saw in my visions at the bus stop and at Mirage. I would later believe that the lesson of this episode is that I needed to change.

Soon after this I was detained on a psychiatric ward, under Section II of the 1983 Mental Health Act – for 28 days. Which is where I certainly belonged!

I will forever associate certain pieces of music with my psychotic episode period, in the time before I was “sectioned”. Mostly Utopia by Goldfrapp. But others too.

The ward I was detained on was called Beachwood. It was in a big shabby 60s building that has since been torn down. Being in such an environment did not end my psychotic experiences, indeed it made them much more intense. I believed that everyone there were actors, and they were being controlled from some remote location, to communicate ideas and meaning to me. I was hyper-sensitive and read things into my surroundings, as though they were orchestrated to communicate ideas to me. I would constantly write stuff down, almost manically. When I ran out of A4 paper I used the green hand-towels from one of the bathrooms. It all maintained up. It was one long, psychotic, stream of consciousness, inspired by the (mostly) mundane happenings on the ward.

I had a low view of the staff and other patients on the ward. I remember writing that my detention there amongst the staff and other patients was like a noble tiger locked up in a cage, bothered by lice, flies and ticks. I appealed against my section in a formal tribunal and my appeal was rejected. I believe it was rejected because the semiotic energy of the pen I had in front of me when I was at the tribunal had upset the energies of the room, thus tipping the balance of the tribunal towards me losing it. The chair of the tribunal was some kind of American woman, who wore a big crucifix around her neck. This bothered me, but I wasn’t sure why.

Different people on the ward signified different things to me. For instance, one woman was “control”, a certain man was “discipline”, and so on. It was a complex system and I’ve forgotten most of it. When I sensed that the higher power I felt was at work on the ward was pleased with me I received a pleasant glowing sensation on the left of my head, above my left eye – which is where I believed my intuitive intelligence resided. Also, there was a young man there who had a guitar – he would sing with it in the corridor, like a busker on a street. He would sing a song I have not been able to trace, he may have made it up himself. It’s lyrics were “think big walk tall, even if you’re very, very small”. There was also a young woman on the ward who like me was a student at the university. She had lived across from where I lived in my first year, she lived where a famous politicians daughter was living. Because of this, I thought she was an MI5 agent, some kind of body-guard or handler assigned to the politician’s daughter and now to me. I was therefore always somewhat wary of her even though I wanted to please the intelligence services.

When I was first admitted to the ward I was given one of two self-contained rooms. I stayed there for a number of nights until I was moved into the male dormitory (all newly built psychiatric wards are now made up of single rooms, with en suite toilet and shower facilities). I was very suspicious of the new man who took my room. He was obviously up to something! A while later, I was altering the physical lay-out of the smoking room to create an arrangement of psychic energies that would be conducive to me mind-controlling people in the smoking room! The man saw this, and quipped: “Look at this! There’s method in the madness! It works!”.

Later, I was watching some old film in the communal lounge. In the film, some of the dialogue went “…a multi-billion dollar mindfuck…” and I immediately took this as referring to me! This disturbed me, so I went to the smoking room, where the new man was. He said “can we put on the radio?” and I said that we couldn’t, as the staff would take away its power cord at night (and it was at that point night) so people couldn’t use it. He then said: “oh, so you’ve lost your lead?” – in a knowing fashion. I was to later think that he meant “lead” not as in “power cord” but as in “advantage” – as in I’d lost my advantage over the other patients in the ward! On another occasion I was sat in the smoking room and I had my lighter on the low down table in the middle of the room, that the chairs were around. The lighter was facing outward. The new man helped himself to my lighter, but returned it facing inward, towards me. I saw this as him correcting the flow of my psychic energy. I eventually came to believe that this man was there to stop me dominating the ward. I decided to cede control of the ward to this man. To communicate this I waited until he was in the smoking room and then played Buck Rogers by the band Feeder, which goes “he’s got a brand new car, looks like a jaguar, it’s got leather seats, it’s got a CD player”. The idea was that like the car in the song, which was identified as clearly belonging to someone, the smoking room also had a CD player, and leather (or at least fake leather) seats. This seemed to work as shortly after this he left the ward.

One day, a middle-aged black man appeared. He had some video tapes he wanted to show us all. This was back when videos had not yet been 100% superseded by DVDs, and there was a video player in the communal lounge. They were all about mind control technologies – “psychotronic technologies” in which computers interacted with human consciousness. There was also videos about telepathy in animals, about how it is possible to make a person insane by beaming a kind of radiation in their general direction (and that the government did this to people it wanted to destroy) and about how there’s such a thing as a satellite-based weapon that can kill people by beaming some kind of energy down from the orbit of planet Earth. I think there was more, but I can’t really recall it. The contents of these videos were to set me up for what would happen later. And I totally believed everything that was in them!

After a few weeks on the ward I had abandoned my PLU social movement and many of my madcap theories, such as Intuition vs. Reason, and my ideas about semiotic energies. But I still aimed to please the influence I saw all around me. I was eventually discharged, into university accommodation, not yet realizing that my Warwick days were over. I also came to believe in a new faculty, that would put Intuition and Reason into the shade: Control. The ability to control one’s self. I remember writing that having discovered Control I felt like I’d discovered a new continent!

There was at this time (and maybe still is) a thing called Uni-Temps, which was a temping agency which tapped the student body as a source of temporary labour. I’d signed up to this, and ended up taking part in a kind of experiment, amongst a dozen or so other students. It was something to do with decision-making and co-operation. There were points and you could either co-operate or compete with others to gain points, and how many points you accumulated determined your fee for joining in. I didn’t understand it and was paying no attention to it. It took part in a big lecture theatre, and I sat towards the back, looking down on all the other students. We were all issued with pens, pencils, papers, rulers, paper-clips, and other such things. I took everything that was said there as somehow relating to me. After the experiment I looked at the arrangement of all the pens, pencils, papers, rulers, paper-clips, and other such things – and they were all arranged to be pointing towards me! As I stood studying this, one of the researchers coughed knowingly.

I’d arranged to meet up with two friends after this, in one of the campus bars, to shoot some pool, smoke some cigs, and drink some beer. On the way there I was walking down a narrow passage between two concrete buildings when my attention was somehow drawn to a sign that said “Cyclists Dismount” – I then saw one of the spies from the old peoples home! This person owned a bike and was walking down the narrow passage with his bike. He looked at me and pointed in a very deliberate manner to one of his eyes. This freaked me out and I would later consider this a reference to “the all-seeing eye of divine providence” that is the symbol of the Illuminati.

When I arrived at the bar there was a strange man there who had nothing to do with the university. He talked about some pool contest in the USA and seemed very keen to meet us all. Suddenly, on the pool table, there was a big golden beetle! I’d never seen such a creature before in all my life! Was this bug a reference to “bugs” as in wires, as used by the intelligence services???

After the strange man had left us one of my friend said to me: “that man had curly eye-lashes. I don’t like people who have curly eye-lashes”. What did she mean by this? I went back to where I was staying and looked in the mirror – and saw that I had curly eye-lashes!

After this I hung around Leamington Spa for a few weeks but then eventually had to go back home to Yorkshire, once my money dried up.

Before I left me and some friends were in a meeting with one of the university’s senior pastoral tutors, who was a very lovely man. He said I was “part of a very tiny elite” but I did not think to question this.

Madaba started communicating with me when I was living in university accommodation after being discharged from hospital. It started when I was at Pizza Hut in Leamington Spa with my mother. Every time someone said something positive I felt a thump of pressure on the left of my head, and every time someone said something negative I felt a thump of pressure on the right of my head. Eventually, a regular, rhythmic beat started on the right of my head. Eventually, it started answering my inner voice, by prodding me on the left to mean “yes” and on the right to mean “no”. This totally amazed me and I thought the thing behind this was a government super-computer, communicating with me via implants and satellites. This started in 2004, and has been going on forever since. Before this happened when I felt the influence that was at work in my life was happy with me I was rewarded by a pleasant glowing sensation over my left eye, where my intuitive genius resided!

Since 2004 I have been living the life of a psychiatric case. As a schizophrenic. A very lowly position to occupy in any society. There is not much to tell about this time period. Except that I was baptised into Christianity in early 2020, shortly before the lockdown.

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