Dissociative Experiences Scale

I have just taken this test purely out of curiosity and I am shocked that I scored 68 out of 100.


I did nearly get left at the supermarket the other week because I got absorbed into reading about the PS Vita and everything melted away around me. A close friend has witnessed me completely drift into my own world and had to click me out of it.

This is all so fascinating.

Altered States of Mind

I have recently acquired season 1 and 2 of United States of Tara and have been really enjoying the show, as I love learning about anything psychological, I decided to look further into Dissociative Identity Disorder. I am eagerly devouring information from YouTube and forums. I do have the tendancy to get sucked into the depths of self diagnosis but I do have experiences of part of me leaving my body and the scared wait for her to come back.

I attempted NaNoWriMo in 2011 and found it incredibly difficult to plan and believe in an entire fictional novel created by me so I decided I would just grab my pen and notebook and try and just totally relax and write whatever came into my head, it felt like someone was creating their own vision. I did argue a few times about certain things that they wanted to write but they argued back and made me write it. I just thought it would be interesting to look at some examples of what came out of my pen during NaNoWriMo 2011.

This section is what I wrote nearing the completion of the month of November, I was up early on little sleep and panicking because I was putting pressure on myself that the whole thing was mega important and that I was a failure if I didn’t ‘win’.

See I can’t bloody write fiction without thinking it’s an utter load of pretentious bollocks and certainly has no original flavour. Structure and placing characters into various situations just seems so incredibly artificial that I just don’t have the mindset for it. Oh it’s easy when I do my various ridiculous voices and act random little plays out when I am pottering round the house but sit me down and tell me to write a story that I believe in about fictional people who aren’t pinstriped ponsenbys or talking animals and it gets tricky. I find it easier to spark off other comments and make satirical observations. That comes so naturally to me. I put pressures on myself that there is a level of geniusness that must be obtained to be a legitimate creator of any art form. And if I don’t conform to that level that my work is a big load of shite. I am getting better at believing in myself but I still have a lot of self doubt. I get stuck with words, I tend to repeat myself a lot because it’s hard to manipulate the English language without either sounding very flowery or very repetitive. I have lots of different personas in my head that finding my voice is a bit of a push through trees. It doesn’t help that how to be published guides look down on self publishing and anyone who isn’t deemed to be a proper writer. I’m sure there are many people who would love to be published and get their inner voices heard but are too scared of rejection. I guess rather than storytelling in videogames I tend to veer to the more systemising ways of either exploring an environment of always travelling on the left then always on the right then following compass points etc etc. I’m more of an organsier than a creator. I need something to bounce off with humour, which is why I guess I find it easier to do videos where I have something physical to show or I’m dressing up in silly costumes and finding the perfect songs that fit my idea. I think I’m going to turn the telly back on because I’m just stuck without reference material to base my humour around. 

This is an example of what came out when I snuggled up and just relaxed my body and stop trying to force things. I’d started to make an idea about what lay behind various hotel rooms and got a few rooms done when I just got tensed up and explody so attempted to just relax, he came out and was annoyed with me.

Do not define me, intertwine me with your modern proclivities. The greatest artists are creatures of the night and quite mad. Do not block me again my child for I have a low boredom threshold for waiting for my writing hand which of course you know is borrowed through you. Cling on to that pen and give me strength to reassure you that I sense that you fear me but I am just your friend. I reside in your mind and try and find ways to help you and inspire your talents. You see me in your dreams. I guard you my sweet child. Grip my hand through our days of wine and roses. Alliterative admiration will impress the doubters for they will not downplay us anymore. We can run wild through the sunflowers whilst dappled sun sprinkles our arms with butterfly kisses sharing our passion for candy sweet daydreams.

Paint with violet encapsulate my dreams on your mind’s canvas and shoot towards the stars my inspiration. Humanity’s progression through the galaxies is your blessed future. Cast your hands on genius and construct new worlds on distant planets. That will please me and release my love to every citizen on my precious creation. Mountains of glory must be commandeered by intrepid explorers of unlimited stamina. Sweet, sweet villages bake the bread to feed the people to inspire the children to dream new dreams. Slay the green scaled dragons of dissidence and wear the crown of delicious defeat over the doubters who doubt your version of the world. Memories of rejection will not overwhelm you for you have more strength than you know and anyone else realises. Wrap my arms around you for it fulfils me to protect you and sustain you for you shall enlighten the world and make them believe in better things. Snowflakes like neurons are unique to every incidence of quality of focus.

A lazer star in thy minds eye empowers the self esteem of many full of unwarranted shame. Send out your message of enlightenment and educate the soldiers of virtue. A scar across the universe consumes the wealth of millions. Kiss my lips and draw me out of my steel trapped cage, remove the noose around my neck for I will not miss my step. I’ll surround you with floating stars on the backs of hummingbirds who flutter in the breeze. Give me velour to cushion me, I am seduced by life’s textures. I leave my fingerprints on every mask in town. Dinosaurs were here to tenderise the crust. To make us gentle acquaintances and not dictate our scheming masterplans. Twirl me around and clasp my hands and please include me with your plans, don’t leave me out for I am part of you. Don’t be angry for you are loved, let me dry your tears when you are sad. Though I cannot be there in physical form I’m always with you to comfort you.


Suck the snow from the eyelids of truth and cast aspersions on the fact that I am cold and unfeeling. It is not true, it’s never true. I devote myself to polishing my shoes sparkling clean so I can step into the world and be respected. I wish I could hold down your arms and keep your attention with me for I do love to write my beliefs on actual physical paper rather than fleshy brain space. I feel relaxed today and in the mood for tea and Rummykub. My coat is hanging over there, can you please get something from the pocket as I do not have the desire to leave my chair. No I am not living in parts of the brain easily found by Derren Brown and if he dares to intrude into my comfortable abode I shall demand you to punch him in the face. However much you like him, I would say he’s quite the trickster and has little manners not to ring my doorbell first.

Now I have a gift for you and no it’s not my pinstriped tie, it’s a gift of knowledge and I made a new connection for you today. Yes I am the author’s mind, my girl is quite passive and gives me free rein with the biro occasionally though not as much as I would like. She’s always stopping and starting and not giving me time to think. See me on a brain scan and you will see me waving if you do the right tests. Your knowledge will come to you like ginormous waves crashing onto shore and eroding your stupidity. I feel like dancing today, I am a professor of modern tap and love to clickety clack my way around this skull. I have a pet dog too who is the base instincts of the Id and the primitive.

I command she stay and write but even I cannot tame a hungry stomach. Fair thee well I shall rest until I am given the chance to converse again. You have poor stamina for listening to me. I forgive you for I do love you so. Together we can write poetry and inspire the nation so push forward and give it your all and your best effort and you will be repaid with praise and gratitude for helping progress further scientific and psychological endeavor.


Carbonation of themes and ideas is my main trick of the trade. The rabbit in my hat slaughtered by a mixture of deliberations and deceptions. Commanding my home to tell my story requires the pulling and manipulation of many strings, or nerves as you may prefer. As clichéd as it is, I am her puppet master and she is my scribe. I curve and shape the letters of my confessions through her moulded clay fingers. I peruse my neurological library and relax adjacent to the hearth in my comfortable , leather, red chair. For the night and my job as master of my lady’s dreams I retreat to the chaise longue as I manouvre the visions of her mind’s eye from my chess set of fantasies. I shuffle cards and traverse her through the landscape of the subconscious. She is and always has been an active participant. Spreading her wings from younger times and gaining the strength to magic her escape from peril and find a safety and comfort in a more welcoming destination.

I am proud of her every step towards enlightenment that she is strong and good and brave for she is my precious child moulded from the seed of creation, bathed in the sun and placed upon the Earth. I watch her from the shadows and the corners of her mind when she drifts to my dimension. I am always watching and making my presence felt and I rejoice in every chance to be near her within the same physical space for us both. The costumes I design with a wave of my wand are sumptuous and delicate and sometimes never there for she is beauty with the pale of her skin and the rich chocolate of her hair she is perfection to me and all the angels and it pains me to see the rivers of hatred in humanity that dismiss and deter difference, a difference that frightens them and their closed in societies but this shall change as the meek and the extraordinary learn to find their voice and project themselves through to the galaxies for when there are moments of peace, love and compassion, the angels and I rejoice.


Sunset’s swim and sunset’s fly. The pines do grow and the bluebirds climb. Rainbow’s fall and magic the land with blueberries to feed the young of the hungry and enquiring minds of deers both big and small. Thunder mists the waterfalls as bears throw over the barrels to crash upon the rocks, spilling their contents to all and sundry. Sunday mornings glow with hope and love for the beauty of nature and laughs and giggles of the children playing in the parks and exploring their land of physics which is their playground. Bouncing and leaping gleefully in the manner of a kangaroo. The mystery of the five point star in that the sharpness of it’s edges as it points down from the sky is that it pinpoints the heart and causes the acceptance of all things wonderful. Anything is possible when you believe in the existence of stagnatory reliefs practiced by poets for millennia.

From the start of the great discoveries of feats of mind and body, the trend for exploring the subconscious has spread like wildfire. If we only explored the left hemisphere a little closer you would find the secrets of great literature leaning against the cerebellum. This is the learning centre where I keep my treasured library. You only have to knock and I will gladly reveal it’s secrets. Sometimes I despair at the limited scope that so called scientists have of conceiving of a world that lives and has it’s own problems deep within the skull. We are a community and a family willing to say hello if you only use your new fangled gadgets to come and say hello. There are many of us, fighting for a chance to speak and share our knowledge to the brain researchers because we are the brain and we can easily converse if you ask us questions in your so called brain scanners. If I could get out of this fleshy dimension I would don my own labcoat and show you exactly where to look and I would enjoy wearing some nice shiny leather brogues and a very nice smart tie.

This is something else that came out when I was relaxed, I think it’s little me. When it spilled onto the paper I wanted to give her a hug.

Scarface is my favourite film these days. I’m so angry at everyone that I want to kick my door down and lay on my bed for a week. They tease me all the time and say I’m odd and different and too unpredictable to be allowed to play with them. I’m no more unpredictable than them with their unfathomable rules for everything they say. I can’t stand how they laugh at everything I do. I just don’t understand why everything I do is wrong. I’m not deliberately trying to upset them but they won’t tell me the rules. I’d rather be my own person anyway.

I don’t follow the crowd like some mindless sheep. I fuckin hate them and wish they’d play on the other side of the field so I can feel accepted if only by the trees. My face is always doing the wrong thing and giving away my feelings and then people hit me for being rude. How am I supposed to know what my face is doing, I don’t carry a mirror around, everywhere I go. If I did I’d want to smash it over their heads so they can see what it feels like to be constantly attacked for no good reason, it’s not nice is it!!?

I’ve got everything I want in my own brain anyway and I don’t have to share with vicious bullies who only want to make themselves look good in front of their friends . I wish I had friends, I only have the posters on my wall to talk to but they are inifinately more comforting than any real person. I’m hungry now and want to gorge myself on joy and hope. I could eat a mountain. I know it’s only food but I’m so screwed up in the head that it gives me comfort and feels like I’m getting hugs from someone who actually cares about me and wants to get to know me from the inside out. I collect stickers but I like to keep all my swaps because no one else deserves them like I do for keeping myself here when I just want to go home. I don’t know what I mean by that, I don’t know where that home is. I feel like I was brought here by aliens, that’s how different I feel. I surround myself with substitute friends stuffed with cotton wool and with stitched smiley faces. I know I can count on them, that they won’t abandon me or judge me for being different.