Mentalechoes

About four years ago now the postman delivered one of those little cardboard box packages designed to carry a couple of CD’s. There was no sender details written on the thing, only my name and my address in black pen on the front. Inside the box was this black disc in a clear plastic CD cover. The disc itself was one that started off its life blank, and was burned like a real music CD, with actual (raw) wav files on it, not stripped down compressed mp3’s or anything like that. There was nothing written on the disc; not the names of the tunes, not anything. I didn’t even know what it was until I put it in a computer, after scanning the hell out of it for general bastardware that turns computers into expensive boat anchors. When I got around to listening to the music I could tell someone had made it for me, because it was all awesome music that I just so lurved to listen to. So the question that begged answering was, who the fuck sent it?!

I was sure it was this one friend of mine, Pete. (Name has been changed to protect his privacy… unless his name is really Pete, in which case, you know his name). So I called up to thank him for the wicked tunes, and why didn’t he just put his name on it somewhere so I would know it was him.

There was a moment of silence on the phone. “You’re a real freak sometimes, McDowell. You know that”!

Okay, so it wasn’t Pete.

A couple more rounds of phone calls to people that I pinned as likely suspects turned up the same kind of responses. Good to know what my friends thought about me, but not really helpful to find out where this CD came from. It started to itch not knowing who sent it, and why. It wasn’t my birthday, or Christmas, I hadn’t broken up with someone, or got marriend, or come back  from a long holiday; none of the usual shit that we give presents to someone for. The itch turned into a burn, and for months I sent out emails to everyone I knew who could have sent that CD, and it turned up nothing. Either someone was lying, or none of these people actually sent the damn thing.

To this day I’ve never found out just where it came from. It remains the greatest mystery of my life; my own personal Mary Celeste. Every so often when I pick the CD up and turn it over in my hands new theories come to mind about its origin, but now they’re starting to take on bizarre edged fantasy twists. Maybe it was delivered by a future me that had travelled back in time to give me the CD to start me on a journey of obsession that would lead me to somewhere I’m meant to be in the future to get to the time machine so I can go back in time to give myself the CD – but the CD was never made by me, it was made by another entity to start the cycle for a purpose that can’t be understood by me yet. Okay, granted it’s not very original, but it would make for a cool story… because it’s goddamn true!

It’s good to have mysteries in our lives I reckon. Something that we can ponder on that will defy conventional understanding so you can stretch your mind and push back the boundary of what’s possible. It’s these kind of things which lead us to the true heart of imagination and creativity. And quite possibly drive you a bit mad in the process!

Andy.