Thoth Revisited
Ask anyone who thinks they know me and they will tell you without a second thought that they think I am a little odd. Okay, that may be putting it a little too nicely, whack job and crackpot are probably more appropriate terms. My point here is that I have never paid much attention to these people…until now. Something has happened to me that defies explanation, and has left me wondering if I really am becoming the alien my mother has always believed me to be.
You may or may not remember that one of my ‘alien’ powers is that of conversing with ancient deities, Thoth in particular. Before you go looking for my straight jacket let me explain: Thoth is the Egyptian God of Writing and Language, and he appeared to me in a dream some months back. This dream was so vivid that even now I can recall every single detail of it, one part in particular where I was sitting in a pub and looking at a mummified hand in an empty tank. Now everyone knows that strange things like this happen in dreams; they put it down to having an overactive imagination and let it go, but not me. That hand has haunted me for months because I knew that I had been given a message, and the pub I was sitting in was too real to just be a part of my slightly unhinged subconscious. Honestly, who dreams of sipping a pint in a pub with a mummified hand for company?
Ever since we spent the night together Thoth has been on my mind. Every time I sit down in front of my computer I hear a little voice that says ‘This is Thoth. Keep him’, and every time I go to sleep I wonder if I will be visited again. Now here is where it gets a little weird even for me. I have been visited, but this time I was fully awake and at work, and this is why I am now questioning my sanity and, yes, my life as a so-called human being.

It is not uncommon for me to surf the web if I have nothing to do at work, and yesterday was no exception. I started out by looking up sites pertaining to the city of Salisbury in England; to me it is one of the most mystical places on earth, as I had one of my first paranormal experiences at Stonehenge. As I continued to read through the history of the city I came upon a site for a pub called The Haunch of Venison which caught my eye for some reason. I remembered a vow that I had made to my sister years ago that I would sit and have a pint in every pub in England before I die, and so I decided to click on the site so that I could add the Haunch of Venison to my already extensive list, but when I saw the outside of the building I was hit with a blinding sense of déjà vu. This was the pub in my dream right down to the cloth on the tables, and sitting in a room all by its lonesome is a mummified hand. Yes, you heard right, the hand that has been haunting me for months isn’t a figment of my warped psyche, it is real.

Before I go any further I have to make it known that although I have spent time in Salisbury I have never set foot in the Haunch of Venison Pub, in fact I had no idea of its existence until yesterday. So now I am left with some very strange thoughts (strange, even for me) and I have no idea how to cope with them. Why would the Gods choose me to play tricks on? Did that hand belong to me in a former incarnation, and if it did how could I have been so careless as to have it lopped off? Or is it that I have somehow mastered the art of Astral Traveling and got a little thirsty so I decided to stop for a pint in Salisbury? In any case I am now considering the idea that my mother might have been right: I am an alien. I am an alien and I am on this planet for a reason, though not the one she first suggested: that I just got lost due to my negative sense of direction.

So while I am waiting for the Mothership I would appreciate any help I can get in resolving this situation. I gotta tell ya, dealing with this Thoth character and his hand is just way too much to handle, even for an alien like me.