I once dreamt that I was a passenger in a car that drove into a snow tornado. Everything turned white and I assume that I died. I woke up feeling comfortable with the idea of my own death.
I don’t think of death as a horrible event that should be feared. I don’t require beliefs to maintain this particular outlook, but I have some in order to provide an explanation of life.
I originally believed in the concept of nothingness, that after death there would be nothing. But like any theory of the afterlife, this concept has no evidence to support it. And when I examined life more closely, it didn’t seem to fit. Life seems to cater to us too much for humanity to have occurred randomly. For instance, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that life provides a constant stream of events that specifically challenge each of us. And when examining myself, I noticed an observer that watches life happen. This observer doesn’t appear to have much influence over life and has no practical reason to exist if life is just a random occurrence.
So to me, it seems as though life exists as a form of entertainment. And if that’s true, one would assume that the experiencers of life are not insignificant. So it makes sense that there’s a part of us that always exists. And if we’re experiencing life as entertainment, it’s likely that the alternative to life is boring. It’s so boring in fact, that we keep returning to life again and again.
Is life really just a source of endless entertainment? Who knows. But that brings up another reason as to why life is not what it seems: why are the details of life so elusive?