Where Was I From?

Blog Post 12

If you’ve read Blog Post 11, you’ll understand why this question came next.

If I’d come off the ships at some point, then I must have come from somewhere else — somewhere that wasn’t Earth. That alone suggests I probably wasn’t human, at least not in the Earth‑born sense.

Sure, it’s theoretically possible that humans are scattered around the galaxy, living in distant pockets or folded into some breakaway civilisation far from their original planet. Maybe some group out there integrated into an ET society and became part of their system.

Interesting ideas, but they feel like long shots.

The more straightforward possibility is the one I needed to test: that my consciousness, before this life, belonged to a non‑human identity.

And the only way I know to investigate that is simple — ask the aliens.

So, with some anticipation, I waited for the skies to clear so I could ask some questions.

The Experiment

Frustratingly, the skies had been overcast for a few days but eventually they cleared up and the days became warm and sunny once more. Great, now’s my chance. That evening, after I had fed the family, I headed out to my usual spot in the yard, on the outdoor couch. The moon was a bright waxing gibbous and that made optimal visibility a challenge, so I reorientated and looked away to achieve better contrast in the sky.

The stars were starting to appear clearly against the darkening skies, so I primed them with my first question: If I was indeed from the ships as they told me previously, where was I from? I assume that I had come from elsewhere, is that correct?

I waited a few minutes for the ships to arrive and shortly one blinked at me with a Yes.

Over the past year or two, they had used a fast streak to indicate an obvious Yes, but over time most of them abbreviated this to a shorter blink. Perhaps this was easier and less disruptive than imitating shooting stars all the time. The blink is also accompanied with a positive impression, whereas the blinking out is accompanied with a definite negative impression in contrast. I can usually pick that well before they blink out.

Right then, I had come from somewhere else. Where?

I explained that I would pick some star systems at random. Where should I start, I wondered. What were some options? (I googled a few in preparation.) My plan was to progressively work my way through the list.

·        Arcturus

·        Orion

·        Pleiades

·        Sirius

·        Zeta Reticuli

·        Lyra

·        Vega

I explained that I would begin with Arcturus as a random selection that happened to be sitting at the front of my brain.

A ship passed slowly overhead, lighting up bright when I acknowledged it. Straight away I asked — Do I come from Arcturus?

Immediately — Yes.

What? But there was more data there that I couldn’t get straight away.

Really? An immediate yes? Was it just a good guess or was I misinterpreting?

I tried again with another ship, same question, same answer.

Right then. I decided to pick another system at random to test this out. Am I from the Pleiades? — No.

Yet again, am I from Arcturus? – Yes.

Okay, well that’s pretty solid already without delving into all the other systems on my list. And already I had a feeling that there were more options within the scope of “coming from Arcturus,” such as planets, moons, different species who call that star system home and people who come and go on the ships and move about the galaxy over time. I think the issue may have been that calling one place home didn’t always work as clearly as you might think. People on Earth for example may have parents who come from different countries while their child is born in a third country. What country are they from? For example, I was born elsewhere but I consider myself Australian. When asked about my nationality, I say Australian. So straight away, the question, “Where are you from?” has become a bit nuanced and not clear cut.

If someone asked me where I was from in the planetary sense, right now I’d say Earth. That’s where this body was born. Okay, that’s clear. But that doesn’t necessarily mean my consciousness originated here with the physical body. If your consciousness travels between physical bodies and star systems, what is your answer then? I think that was the issue with the additional data that accompanied their replies to my questions.

Okay then, why did I end up here? Was I sent here? — Yes.

Alright… why? Did I have a specific mission? — Yes.

Well, what the hell is it then?

I was getting a bit frustrated at this point. How was I supposed to complete a task if I didn’t even know what it was? Was it just bringing up my daughter? Surely there was more to it than that. (Again, the book, Meet the Aliens, has more details on this topic.)

More and more, the whole system seemed so hit‑and‑miss. For a long time I thought it was all just educational — a kind of informal training program delivered through exposure and experience. But if I came here with a mission, then education is only one layer of it. The deeper structure, whatever it is, doesn’t behave like a teaching system at all. It behaves like a deployment system — one that sends someone into a life, wipes their memory, and expects them to rediscover their purpose through fragments and intuition.

And from where I’m standing, that premise felt like Swiss cheese — with more holes than cheese — and I was left trying to make sense of it with nothing but scattered pieces to work from. I was feeling around in the dark, and I didn’t even know what I was looking for.

This had all suddenly become education with a specific purpose behind it. I’d been woken up — nudged into awareness, shown a glimpse of something larger, and given an introduction to a world that wasn’t just new, but entirely beyond Earth. And with that introduction came the unmistakable sense that I was meant to do something. There was a purpose to all of this, a reason I’d been brought into the loop — but I still had no idea what that purpose was.

I checked my watch and realised an hour had just flown by, and it was time for books and bed. I was required inside for nighttime routine. With a sigh, I thanked them and wished them all a good night and safe travels, feeling slightly more burdened than when I’d stepped out into the backyard after dinner.

It’s a strange thing to be handed hints of a mission that predates your own lifetime, only to have to put it aside so you can read bedtime stories. The universe doesn’t pause for parenting, and parenting doesn’t pause for the universe.