The Ship of Theseus, the Fractal Self, and the Dream of Death: A Journey Through the Mayhem

 

In the strange, suspended animation of the 2020 pandemic, I was given a nine-month layoff from work. The world outside had stopped, but in my mind, a universe was expanding from a creative spark, my own personal literary singularity. With the time and the desperate, focused obsession that only a deadly global health crisis can provide, I conceived and birthed "Ship Of Theseus: A Novel.” After receiving a single kind rejection from a publisher I adored (Eraserhead Press, I still adore you), I self published. Since then, I’ve spent the years watching it languish in obscurity with a zero-dollar marketing budget while working fifty-hour weeks as a dad of two and a thin-stretched husband. The small audience it found, however, had amazing, beautiful things to say about the book and their experience with it, and that was a transcendent for me.

Therefore, I have made a decision. I am pulling the book from sale on Amazon’s self publishing platform. I have completely re-illustrated it and re-branded it as “With Death Our Dream: A Metaphysical Mayhem.” This isn't just a new coat of paint, it’s a declaration of intent. I am now actively seeking traditional representation because this book, and those readers who found and championed it, deserve a professional launch. To those early fans who saw the patterns in the chaos, who sent messages that made it all worthwhile: thank you. Your support is the reason for this evolution.

But this is more than a career move. It’s a survival story. It’s the story of a writer who, in the process of building fictional worlds, finally found the language to understand his own.

For years, I was caught in the loop of my own personal "Ship of Theseus" paradox. I was a man who had written a book about "wearing masks" before learning that he was a neurodivergent person who had suffered a two-year breakdown because of "masking." The cost of that performance, the constant, exhausting effort of fitting into a world not built for my brain, was a near-total collapse, most of which I spent in bed. I was hospitalized six times in a year for suicidal ideation. This breakdown was not an abstract crisis; it was the physical and psychic toll of a two-year battle against Long Covid and the un-diagnosed, untreated mental health disorders I had carried my entire life. The marriage I was in, a relationship of a dozen years, became a destructive pressure cooker, a "hellscape" of its own, and its end was the final, necessary demolition of the life I thought I was supposed to be living.

In the wake of this personal apocalypse, a point of light appeared. Days before I was hospitalized for the first time, the book reviewer Lori Alden Holuta published a review of "Ship Of Theseus" that felt like a life raft. She called it a "transmedia storytelling experience" and wrote that it "reawoke [her] muscle and mind memories of a long ago journey." She saw the book not just as a story, but as a piece of technology designed to alter consciousness. Her words were a validation so profound, it became a small part of my calculus for choosing to live. I had created something important that resonated deeply with someone, and I had to share it with the world.

Now, having emerged on the other side of that crucible divorced, diagnosed, and determined, I see the book for what it truly is. It is not a story I wrote from a distance; it is a reality I was channeling from deep within my own biology. The book’s central theme of self-repeating patterns (fractal geometry) as universal truth is not just a cool sci-fi concept; it is the very nature of my neurodivergent mind, a mind that sees connections and systems where others may see only chaos. The struggle of its protagonist, Wayne Bird, is not just a fictional ghost story, it is a raw, unfiltered depiction of my own experience with grief, depression, and the existential terror of a mind on the brink.

I’m an atheist, however the book’s theology is my lived experience. It argues that God is not a transcendent being but the emergent consciousness of the universe itself, a process in which we are not subjects but essential participants. This is the philosophy I had to build to survive. It is the realization that my own struggles were not a sign of being broken, but a sign of being a "sensitive probing feeler," as Grant Morrison said in his book “Supergods,” through which the universe was getting to know itself. The book's statement on Satan—that it is not an evil being but the necessary, amoral force of chaos that drives evolution—was my way of understanding the destruction in my own life. The divorce, the breakdown, the loss of my old self: these were not punishments, but the universe's way of breaking down the old planks of my ship so it could be rebuilt into something stronger and truer.

This is why the book is so accessible, even with its intellectual rigor. At its core, it is a ghost story married to a superhero story. It’s about a young writer navigating his grief and finding his purpose. It’s about a teenage boy trying to be a hero. It’s about a mother trying to save her child. These are human stories. The philosophy is the architecture, but the emotion is the entrance. You don’t need a degree to feel Wayne’s pain or to thrill to Scott’s adventures. You just need to have a heart. The ideas are there for those who want to dive deeper, but the story works on the surface for anyone who has ever felt lost, scared, or hopeful.

Now, I am a writer navigating my own grief after the end of my marriage, and my actions toward publishing this book are my way of actualizing my purpose: to be a professional artist. I am done "masking." I am done trying to be the person I thought I was supposed to be. I am embracing the fractured, fractal, and beautifully weird person I actually am. This book is the proof. It is the map I drew to find my way out of the maze, and I believe it can help others find their way, too.

It deserves a professional release because it is more than just a book. It is a magic spell, a consciousness-altering piece of literary technology, and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of overwhelming chaos. It is the story of a man who thought he was at the end of his rope, only to discover that the rope was a fractal, and the end was just another beginning. It is my story, and I am ready, finally, to share it with the world.