The Drift - Part 1

Getting ready for the Drift involves all consciousness. Our thoughts are intertwined and flow through its entire being. There is no physical. We, it, they are not corporeal. The Drift cannot be measured, existing everywhere and nowhere. It has its own vibrant personality and self-awareness, but it makes no contact and cannot be contacted.

Building an individual personality, that will be accepted by corporeal beings, is not simple. Humans, in this case, need a history, memories of things lost to them. Memories make them who they are, collectively and as individuals. It’s not dissimilar to my own existence except that I do not have a past or a future. I simply am. There is an area, a gap if you like, where I do not exist. Not in a way you can understand. This is where I am human. Life is suddenly glimpsed one second at a time. Something previously not part of my awareness or understanding. Not knowing what will happen in the next second is like riding a rollercoaster in total darkness. Not knowing is new to me too.



I am Sofia

There is one rule, it has never been broken. As a physical being, you will not remember.


“Let me sleep.” Joe is tugging my arm from under the covers. I was nice and cosy, now I just want to tell him to leave me alone; slightly irritated at being disturbed from my dreams. Every morning, he’s up bright and early singing with Nisha. Our daughter is turning 9 tomorrow, a proper little madam. She’s going to have the teenager ‘know it all’ attitude early. It’s definitely emerging. 

“Get up, get up!” Joe is laughing at me now.

“No”, is all I can be bothered with. I roll away from him and his hand trying to drag me away from my warm duvet and my dream. 

He persists, tugging the covers from me.

“OK. OK. Pass my notebook, I want to write this dream down.” I hear the flutter of pages as he picks up my notebook and flicks through it. I sit up, it’s pointless to try and resist him and his natural boyishness and enjoyment of life. Morning people are so infuriating.

I’ve always had vivid dreams. When I was a child, my dad gave me a small writing pad and a selection of coloured pencils. I'd squeal with excitement. He'd sit on the edge of my bed and listen to my fantastical dreams. I’d tell him...

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Craig Worcester
Nov 17 2020

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There's so much in here! You're writing is really vivid, and grounded on a fascinating concept! Can't wait to read the next part!

Paul Sterlini
Nov 21 2020

This is so intriguing and thought-provoking. The introduction is so poetic and stands well on its own. The whole piece stands well on its own too; but, I’m greedy for more, could this be the start of a novel ...? Hope so.

Janette Ostle
Nov 21 2020

I absolutely loved this and the intriguing mix of normality with a slightly sinister fantasy/sci-fi undercurrent. It reminded me a bit of Philip K Dick.

Rod Webb
Nov 17 2020