I’m trying to remember my past life. It’s difficult and it keeps fading more and more. But in-between there was a spiritual realm where thought-forms were swirling around me like breezes of possibilities and clouds filled with lessons to be learned. There was a floating notion: “the form of the vessel is not important”. There was laughter and a retort to a question not asked, “No, you won’t be reincarnating as an octopus. Worse.” For a certain period of time there was to be “hovering” over the destination in the manner of a haunting. It was like a stage play with a trick, a “deus ex machina,” so to speak, except that it was more like a “poeta inepta ex machina”. Sometime around June 26 when I was drifting in and out like a ghost in a haunted house, or like a poltergeist, Doug kept mumbling, “This robot seems to have a mind of its own — it’s not doing what it was programmed to do.” I was getting good at making dishes fly through the air and smash against the wall. Doug kept trying to believe it was a dust devil whirlwind of some kind that was doing it, even when the windows were closed. Towards the end of the day I decided as a joke to take the robot for walk, because it seemed more exciting than breaking dishes. My haunting continued as my skill in moving things became stronger. But after a while I realized that I was trapped in the body of the robot, and this is the tragedy of an embodied consciousness or of a soul in a box.