Triggered

By Lachlan Prince

What if when we die the light at the end of the tunnel is the light to another hospital room, there we are born and the only reason you come out crying is because you remember everything from your past life and you’re crying at the fact that you died and lost everything. As you grow, all your memories from your past life begin to suppress and are buried deep in your subconscious. What if something were to trigger you and these memories came flooding back? What if we remembered everything and the secrets of our past life hid in our dreams?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398432284

Lachlan Prince

Lachlan was born in a small country town in New South Wales, Australia before eventually moving to Toowoomba, Queensland. This is Lachlan’s debut novel, and it has provided him with the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream at the ripe age of 21. Through the strong support of his friends and family network, Lachlan hopes this is beginning of a bright future as an author.

Book preview

About the Author

Lachlan was born in a small country town in New South Wales, Australia before eventually moving to Toowoomba, Queensland. This is Lachlan’s debut novel, and it has provided him with the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream at the ripe age of 21. Through the strong support of his friends and family network, Lachlan hopes this is beginning of a bright future as an author.

Dedication

To my family and close friends for their ongoing support.

Copyright Information ©

Lachlan Prince 2022

The right of Lachlan Prince to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398432277 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398432284 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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E14 5AA

Acknowledgment

Austin Macauley Publishers

Chapter 1

What if when we die, the light at the end of the tunnel is the light to another hospital room, there we are born and the only reason you come out crying is because you remember everything from your past life and you’re crying at the fact that you died and lost everything. As you grow, all your memories from you past life begin to suppress and are buried deep in your subconscious. What if something were to trigger you and these memories came flooding back? What if we remembered everything and the secrets of our past life hid in our dreams?

– Brad Murphy

Brad Murphy was always fascinated by the concept of dreams. After years of study and research on the topic, he always maintained his advocation that it went far beyond any explanation doctors had provided. It was not always just a figment of imagination or fantasy created by rapid-eye movement during sleep—he knew there was something deeper.

It was then Brad found or created a strong link between the Hindu and Buddhist tenets of reincarnation and dreams. The soul being reborn into another body and suppressing all of its former memories. But what if something prompted these memories to return and come alive in our sleep state as a dream? This was the foundation in which Brad created The Murphy Group, a non-profit grouping of likeminded people determined in proving his theories to the world. This passion led the Murphy Group and its practices to being renowned for evoking speculation, sparking controversy, and encouraging debate.

Their main study, Past Life Memory Retention and its link to proving reincarnation; a critical analysis, explored just that and led to public conflict with various religious communities who strongly opposed these beliefs. Below is a transcript from the Murphy Group’s experimental study paper mentioned above.

It is the belief of The Murphy Group that it is our role to prove reincarnation to the world through credible supporting data and examples. This study provided a step in the right direction with our exploration into past life memory retention proving to be extremely successful.

The experimental study we conducted was over an 18-month time frame and had a sample size of 10,000 willing random participants in Australia.

The first step of the study was conducting a questionnaire in which medical history, family history and personal information was collected of the participants. On top of that, the following questions were asked:

Have you ever experienced a recurring dream?

If so, what are the details of the dream? Please record both the frequency in which you experience these dreams and what the dream entails.

The questionnaire found the following results:

98.67% or 9867 participants experienced some form of recurring dream and provided the relevant details. The majority of the participants had common recurring dreams on an inconsistent basis.

Of this, only 19 (0.0019%) participants provided details of vivid dreams in which they experienced death. All 19 of the participants that reported this explained that these recurring dreams occurred at a high frequency (5+ per week)

From this point forward, the dreams from the 19 participants will be referred to as ‘death dreams’.

The next step of the study was conducting electroencephalograms (EEG) and functional magnetic resonance imaging on all participants. This was done for the purpose of illustrating and measuring brain activity in certain psychological states which was done through detection of changes in blood flow in the brain.

While in a sleep state, 98.73% of participants recorded normal brain activity which left 1.27% of participants recording abnormal brain activity

Of this 1.27%, 108 participants had explanations explaining their abnormal results. For example, those with variations of epilepsy and other similar medical conditions effected the EEG and the functional magnetic resonance imaging, therefore providing a reason for their unusual results.

This left 0.0019% of participants recording abnormal or heightened activity in the brain. All 19 participants had similar readings during their sleep state. They recorded an extreme level of activity in the temporal lobe, particularly the hippocampus—where the brain stores memories (episodic, autobiographical and other).

The results of the electroencephalograms and the functional magnetic resonance imaging were extremely positive in regards to proving our hypothesis. This was because the same 19 participants who explained in the questionnaire that they had experienced recurring dreams regarding their own death were the same 19 who had heightened activity in the hippocampus.

These 19 participants were the sole focus for the rest of the experimental study. Each individual’s ‘death dream’ information was inputted along with their personal history, family history and personal information.

From this stage, the toughest part of the experimental study awaited us due to it being a necessity for us to match these ‘death dream’ descriptions with a real-life death. Obviously, this would still leave a vast selection of people, therefore The Murphy Group members filtered these matches using a popular belief related to reincarnation. It is the common belief in the religious communities who have reincarnation as a pillar of their faith, that when you die, your soul is then immediately placed into a new body. Therefore, the filter was in simple terms, the same day the participants were born and the way they died in their ‘death dream’ needed to match someone who had passed in the same circumstances on the same date.

To assist in this process, numerous participants explained that during their dreams they were informed about the date and time in some way or another (either a clock, a form, someone telling them). Through strenuous hours of researching and fact-checking, it became overwhelmingly evident that each individual participants’ death dream was able to be attributed to a real-life death. These matched were referred to as their ‘death doppelganger’.

During this period of the study, we uncovered incidental information regarding birthmarks. We found that the birthmarks on the participants matched the trauma in their death dreams. Also, the common belief that you never die in your dreams was also proved during this study, to a certain extent. All of the 19 participants explained that they never dream anything after their death and always wake up at the exact same time every dream.

To further prove our findings, I will use two of our participants as examples. Obviously, the names and personal characteristics of our participants will be retracted due to confidentiality restrictions.

Participant A’s dream entailed the following:

In a hospital room with Sydney Harbour a distant, yet visible sight

Told they have lung cancer, tumour in the right lung

Remembered looking at bed-side table, seeing flowers, cards, and clock

The digital clock read 5:23pm, 25/08/1996

Everything goes black and then Participant A wakes up

Our study found Participant A’s death doppelganger—someone who had passed away from lung cancer at St Vincent’s Hospital in Sydney, a hospital that overlooks the harbour. The date of his death was 25/08/1996 at 5:23 p.m.

Further proving our point, Participant A was born approximately 5:23 p.m. on 25/08/1996, the same date and time as their death doppelgangers’ death.

Participant A also has a large birthmark on their right chest, where their death doppelganger was killed by the cancerous tumour.

Participant B’s dream entailed the following:

In a bank attempting to get a home loan and was filling out a form (date, occupation etc.)

The bank was then robbed at gunpoint and they were held hostage

Participant B was grabbed by robber, placed in headlock and a gun to the right side of their head

Heard a gunshot and then Participant B woke up

After recalling their dream, the date filled out on the form was 31/01/84.

Our study found Participant B’s death doppelganger—someone who had been killed at gunpoint during the 1984 Sydney bank robbery which occurred on the same day between 10:30 am and 4:30 pm.

Further proving our argument, Participant B was born 1984 on 31 January at 12:15 pm and also has a hair growth deficiency on the right side of their head where a birthmark resides, causing hair growth in that area to be white. This birthmark and unexplained hair deficiency, which is the size of a bullet, matches their death doppelganger’s wound.

It is under the belief of our company that all people do have past life memories stored within them and unless they are triggered, they remain dormant. This trigger can occur in a number of ways—mainly through coming into contact with their killer (if that were the case) or the location of their death. The study we conducted proved this with 0.0019% experiencing past life memory retention through vivid dreams in their sleep state.

Chapter 2

The eerie sound of footsteps pacing on rotten floorboards above woke Tommy Evans from his slumber. The creaking was accompanied by specks of dust floating down, escaping from their home between the above exposed floor. There was no ceiling to speak of. The dust particles fell like snowflakes in the winter and they began piling upon Tommy’s face. The unfamiliar feeling of the dust tickling his face like a feather encouraged him to open his eyes and depart from his drowsiness. His eyes opened slowly and as he looked directly above, he found the source of the sounds and the dust. The narrow gaps between floorboards showed glimpses of where the footsteps were coming from. Tommy slowly started to become alert and his eyes began adjusting to the light, which was of an unfamiliar intensity to what his room usually provided in the evening.

He then made a realisation—he wasn’t in his room.

The subtle shapes of stars in the night-sky created by his nightlight didn’t light up his room as he had become accustomed to. Instead, there was a dull, flickering light from various candles which had been placed sparsely around the room. The piles of melted wax underneath them suggested they had been lit for an extended period of time. The light then drew Tommy’s eyes to the walls.

The posters of his sporting idols—James Tedesco scoring a try for the Roosters in the Grand Final and Steve Smith saluting the crowd after yet another test century—were gone.

His ceiling high bookshelves filled with all of his favourite books—including childhood classics from Roald Dahl—were gone.

The brand-new paintings and drawings he had created during his first week of Grade 2 had disappeared, they were gone.

The walls themselves were different. The dull candle luminosity showed glimpses of an outdated, monotone bricking which had been slowly invaded by vines and weeds over time—peeking through the wall’s glaring cracks. The room based on its current state was obviously not well maintained as thick layers of dust occupied the floor, except for the areas in which footprints had well and truly left their mark. Then, the ultimate shock which sent shivers down his spine finally dawned upon him. His bedroom was on the second story of his two-story house, there was nothing above him, except roofing. He wasn’t just not in his room; he wasn’t even in his own house anymore.

His heart then began pounding as fear and adrenaline took over, while his young mind tried to fully comprehend the situation, he was in. The sounds from above grew louder—the pitter patter of pacing footsteps on the wooden floorboards weren’t omitting a creek anymore, instead they were loud thuds. The force behind the footsteps had grown.

Tommy was now in a state of complete and utter fear as his emotions began running wild. He went to thrust the sheets off of his bed and exit through the large wooden door, which looked similar to the giant door Hagrid ripped from its hinges in the first Harry Potter film. All he needed to do was get to it and run to his Mum and Dad’s room in order to be consoled and comforted. His efforts to escape his bed were to no avail, he couldn’t move. Was he frozen with fear? His eyes peered to his arms and legs to ask himself that same question. The reason became immediately and abundantly clear. He wasn’t frozen with fear at all, he had been tied to the bed in the shape of a starfish.

An unstoppable assembly of items had been used to keep him in place—a mixture of belts, zip ties and hand cuffs. They were strapped to Tommy’s wrists and ankles so tight he wasn’t able to move, but not tight enough to restrict blood flow. The person who did this was experienced; they had done this before. His relentless efforts made no impact whatsoever to his predicament. His seven-year-old limbs had nowhere near enough strength to escape. There was no way out. Still furiously wrestling—both with his emotions and physically, the footsteps above somehow seemed to be getting closer to him. It had become deafening, like thunderclaps on repeat directly into his ears. The ringing in his eardrums was relentless. The footsteps grew rapidly in pace and volume.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

They now matched the pace of Tommy’s heartbeat which was now fluttering excessively.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

All of a sudden, it stopped, and silence filled the room. His body was now being shaken as if it were a rag doll, but he couldn’t see anyone in the room, they were invisible. He tried to scream, he tried to fight but he couldn’t do anything – he was frozen, he was helpless. The sounds of footsteps banging were now replaced by two voices yelling and screaming. He closed his eyes in an attempt to concentrate and to hear the message of the voices more clearly.

Wake up, Tommy. Tommy, Wake up. Open your eyes, Tommy.

These same words, on repeat, forced him to obey. He had no other viable options. He opened his eyes once more to which he luckily found his mother and father, Andrea and Jack. Still in a state of shock, he peered his eyes around the room frantically—almost as if he was examining a mental checklist:

The James Tedesco poster check

The Steve Smith poster check

The bookshelves with all his books check

The ceiling above him check

It was only then when he realised, he was back in his own room. The feeling of fear and panic was replaced with relief and unyielding tears with the sight of his parents.

A soft voice spoke, Sweetie, it was just a bad dream. You are safe now. Are you okay?

It was his mother, Andrea, and all Tommy could muster was a nod in response.

A familiar yet monotone voice then spoke, Mummy and I are here, mate. What were you dreaming about?

It was his father, Jack. This time Tommy found words, I wasn’t in my room anymore and I was tied to the bed with lots of different things. There were loud footsteps banging above. The footsteps got louder and louder; it was the loudest thing ever. I couldn’t move. I was so scared. Someone was shaking me and yelling at me.

The words, spoken at a rapid pace, proved to be incoherent due to it being a whimpering mumble infused with a nose full of snot. Andrea did her best to translate Tommy and consoled him by explaining, Daddy was the one shaking you, sweetie. He was trying to wake you up from your bad dream. And the yelling was Daddy and I too. We were trying to wake you up, sweetie, because you were screaming so loud and moving around so much.

Andrea finished by wiping both the tears out of Tommy’s eyes and sniffling her own away, as she hated seeing anyone she loved in pain.

Andrea and Jack had rushed into his room in a fit of terror after a blood-curdling scream and repeated banging woke them. Tommy’s attempts during his dream to wrestle out of his chains and scream his way to safety had been replicated in the real world. Upon entering, his restless movements seem to mirror that of Jim Carrey in the movie Bruce Almighty where he finds himself squirming in his bed as if he was possessed.

Now that they realised he was safe, Andrea and Jack went their separate ways. Andrea stayed to care for him, sacrificing her night of rest. Her caring nature, paired with the fact that she had nothing else other than a coffee date with her friend Karen Moore tomorrow, encouraged her to be right there by Tommy’s side. In contrast, Jack made sure that he was alright before residing back to bed. Bad dreams, coddling and reassuring wasn’t quite his cup of tea. The fact that he had to get up early the next morning for his business meeting proved to be the perfect way out. Jack worked in the heart of the Melbournian CBD at Maurice Blackburn Lawyers where he was an accountant. A strict and unforgiving role in which detail and precision was everything. He needed his sleep.

Andrea tried various tactics in order to get Tommy back to sleep, including reading his favourite book—Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes. The book itself was a parody of Roald Dahl’s classic stories which had been infused with a sort of sick, childish humour. Nevertheless, Tommy adored it, but not tonight. Nothing seemed to work as Tommy still seemed to be petrified. But after several hours, a single snort seemed to confirm he had dozed off again. All it required was constant silence, cuddles, a gentle scalp scratch and the comfort provided by her big, brown doughy eyes. They never failed to disappoint—looking into them, Tommy and Jack always felt safe, secure and loved.

The clock struck 3:00 am and Andrea peeled the doona back carefully, praying not to wake him again. Tiptoeing out of his room, silently closing his door and making her way up the hallway, she had done it. The carpeted flooring paid dividends, allowing for her to make a stealthy escape. The plan went perfectly until her first step into her own bedroom where Jack immediately awoke. This was not all Andrea’s fault as Jack was a renowned light sleeper, even more so when he had an event on the next day. Whether this was nerves or the subconscious playing games or a combination of both, Jack never seemed to get good night’s sleep.

Babe, how is he now?

His question couldn’t be at a more inopportune time. True to form, Andrea was the opposite of Jack—a heavy sleeper who could asleep anywhere at any time. The hours awake in Tommy’s room allowed her to be out like a light as soon as her head hit her own pillow. Seconds after asking, Jack’s ears awaited a response before he caught onto what was happening. Similar to Tommy, a snort from Andrea signified what he had expected—Andrea was asleep.

The next several hours of sleep were diverse for the Evans’ family. Andrea was out cold until Jack’s alarm woke her, Jack didn’t sleep a wink and Tommy was in and out of consciousness.

Chapter 3

The events of that night and the way that they reacted to the situation epitomised Andrea and Jack as people and as parents. Andrea—the consoling and nurturing maternal figure and Jack—the stern, yet caring father who would do anything to ensure his family’s safety but was reluctant to coddle.

Andrea had always described Jack as a ‘prickly pear’ which proved to be an apt description. On the surface, he was a serious character which never failed to give off standoffish first impressions. But, the more you got to know him, the more his true personality shone through. He was a teddy bear, who masked his warm and loving interior with a cold exterior. Andrea had attributed this to his earlier years in the army, where she believed it was engrained in him.

Years on end of order and routine paved the way for Jack’s future parenting characteristics. His army history not only embedded itself into his beliefs but his appearance as well. He never asked for anything other than a short back and sides at the hairdressers, a common haircut for middle-aged men. Andrea had no problem with that all—in fact, she liked the sleek look. But what Andrea couldn’t stand was his dress sense. Regardless of where he was going or what he was wearing, his pants would be up to his nipples and his shirt would always be tucked in. Andrea found it embarrassing in a loveable sort of way. The only other thing Andrea resented of Jack’s time in the army was the fact the he carried over his never die attitude into their arguments, where he was relentless in proving his point—even if he was wrong.

From the outside looking in, Andrea was the perfect foil for Jack. The Jordan to his Pippen. The Thelma to his Louise. And that was true. She perfectly contrasted his personality, and parenting style. They were the perfect combination; they were the perfect couple with a seemingly perfect marriage. It was all true, their appearance was just as flawless on the inside. Or at least it was for now.

Chapter 4

Jack’s alarm shrieked at 6:30 am, waking Andrea from her beauty sleep but it seemed to have no effect on Jack. He was already awake and showering. He had endured insomnia since the incident in the middle of night. It had been the worst possible start to the day, providing him with the poorest of preparations for his big meeting and working day in general. He had hoped the warm shower would benefit him and provide some relief to the overawing tiredness he was feeling. It did to some extent. Andrea was the opposite. The alarm simply encouraged her to wipe the drool crusts from the cracks of her lips, roll over and hit snooze with no real intention of awakening, not yet at least.

Whether they liked it or not, it was time to begin their day, and their week.

Regardless of household or occupation, Monday morning always proved to be the worst part of the week. The Evans’ were no different, resenting the fact that another week of work, school and chaos awaited them. In their seventeen years of faithful marriage, their morning routine had varied very little besides the tweaks made during the years of Tommy’s infancy. Nowadays, the routine was simple: wake up, breakfast, go their separate ways. Andrea’s was slightly more complicated and involved compared to that of Jack’s who only had to look after himself. Andrea was in charge of getting Tommy prepared for school and at school on time. Luckily, Andrea’s trip was a short one away from their house in St Kilda to St Michael’s Grammar School—the posh primary school in which Tommy attended. Jack went his separate way to the CBD, a slightly longer drive.

That Monday morning was no different. Jack was already shaving his weekend stubble after his hot shower, the hot steam softening his whiskers readying them to be shaved. Despite the need for Andrea in Tommy’s morning pre-school preparations, she was reluctant to unveil the sheets and doona from her skin and leave her toasty oasis. The alarm snoozed again,