This last week my angel and I visited new friends in Devon. Partway through the week I woke one morning realising that the events and things that I'd seen at their home had in a sense all been incorporated into my novel years ago. When I wrote it originally I suspected that it was based on forgotten dreams, only later noticing the connections with later events, but last week another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Apparently the place outside of our reality described in the novel is literally inside my head and occasionally I meet my earlier self there to exchange ideas for the story. It seems that that night last week I passed my new memories back in time and my earlier self decided how to incorporate them into the story and explained that to me. It seems totally mad to think this but the more these coincidences happen the more convincing the idea becomes. It isn't important whether it is absolutely true as I suspect that there is no absolute when it comes to the ultimate nature of reality but empirically it carries more and more weight as the future unfolds.
As time goes by, to our perception that is, my novel will become more and more normal, a somewhat nondescript story based on trivial events in my life, the sort of thing that anyone might write, and anyone reading it will see nothing special about it. Only when the timeline is examined does the peculiarity become evident, that it was written years before it could have been, but that won't make it any better as a story. I find it fascinating though and wonder just how far into the future my underlying research extends.
I could almost write a far more interesting story about how I came to write the novel but there is a snag. The information upon which the story is based is very personal to the real people involved, so I doubt that I could ever write about the real events and people that form the basis for this strange document.
I see that elsewhere a thread was started asking what we want our readers to take away from our writing. I couldn't bring myself to post a response there. The few readers that I have must place their own interpretation on my writing and take away whatever puts them at their ease, even if that entails their believing that my writing is in some way deficient. Rather that than that any part of humanity should ever believe that there is any truth in the story that I wrote -- or any of this written here for that matter.