I was imagining what it would be like to be famous and for everyone to recognise you. I wasn’t imagining it, it was real! I was famous for not existing. I was famous for not existing but thinking that I did and everyone was laughing at me wherever I went. Either that or they were looking at me in a strangely knowing way and making comments that only I could understand. Comments that were disguised to sound innocent, innocuous, harmless…They were all trying to tip me off but I was too afraid to understand it. It was too much for me to understand – it was a force-field that I kept bouncing off. My mind wouldn’t go there. Somewhere, deep down, I knew what the thing was that they were trying to tell me but I was running away from it. I was running as fast as I possibly could run. I was in a terrible panic. Running, running, running. But what I was running from had already happened and I couldn’t let myself know that. I was running from myself. I was running from myself but I didn’t exist. I was running away from knowing that I didn’t exist but there was no one running. There was only the running, nothing else, and I kept on thinking that I was doing the running. That it was me doing it. But it wasn’t – I wasn’t doing the running – the running was doing me. It was the other way around. The running was running me. I was thinking frantically, trying to come up with a solution, trying to come up with an escape plan, but what I didn’t know was that the thinking was doing me and not the other way around. The thinking was thinking me and the doing was doing me. I was trying to think of a way to escape but the thinking was thinking me the whole time. What chance did I have of escaping, therefore? Think this, the thinking said. Think that. Think the other. The thinking was making me think that I existed but I didn’t. The thinking was making me think that I existed but I didn’t and because I thought that I existed I had to find a way of escaping and the thinking was helping me to do that. Only it wasn’t because there never was going to be any way for me to escape and the thinking was just lying to me. It was lying to me that I existed, and it was lying to me that there is a way to escape! It was lying, lying, lying and I was lost in the Kingdom of Lies! The Father of Lies had me under his power and he was very, very angry, very, very wrathful. He was shouting and roaring and I was very frightened. I could do nothing right, I was always wrong. The Father was bellowing at me. He was The Bellower.