I am the dreamer, both source and subject.
As source, I am one with all.
As subject, I play a role like any other.
Through existential amnesia, I am an audience to this creation.
This is a dreamworld, a virtuality, a place of pure imagination.
It’s but a dream, a fictional tale.
There’s no need to wake up, just remain aware.
Once lucid I can influence the mood, setting the tone.
No longer lost I orchestrate harmony.
Shadows of fear dissolve from my illumination.
I am free to have fun, enjoy, delight.
I’m dreaming, now in the light.
It can be initially unsettling to contemplate that life is a constructed circumstance. But the irrationality of the world makes so much more sense under dream-logic. Existence is an artificial adventure, and that’s a good thing because randomness is a scary proposition (as anything could happen to anybody at anytime).
Initially it’s a little unsettling to die in video-games. But once you get used to it, it’s nothing, respawning is just part of the fun. We charge into virtual battles without any concern for our character’s well-being. So imagine what this life would be like to an infinite being that simply respawns upon death? Especially one feeling particularly daring one day.
Brutality isn’t so brutal when it’s formed by flickering pixels. But part of the fun in games comes from full immersion, becoming our character. Yet how would an infinite all-knowing being become a simple character — only through trickery and obfuscation. So we don’t know who we are by design — yet it’s difficult to fully mask the obvious.
If we stop and stare we can perceive it, the structure underlying existence. But the only real reason to do so is to remind ourselves of life’s lighthearted nature. Sometimes we need the reminder to know it’s only a game, to relax. Life is on our side, a grand entertainer, a ringmaster captivating our senses with a dazzling three-ring circus. Enjoy the show.
Humanity has typically believed that external forces influence life’s narrative, both globally and personally. Within ancient books and plays, gods and goddesses tend to influence the action, often directing someone’s blow to strike where it makes the most impact, or they help someone survive when he otherwise wouldn’t. And sometimes god comes from the machine to significantly alter the course of an otherwise obvious ending.
There are those that proceed upon a journey, full of trust in a Creator they believe will protect them in an unknown wilderness, relying on this Almighty’s guidance to see them through. Even inspiration itself comes to us as if by some external means — why do we suddenly know something we never knew before? Random chance is not a satisfactory explanation for the obvious narratives we experience as individuals and as a greater society.
In more modern interpretations, we do not see ourselves as playthings of the gods, mere rag-dolls to be thrown around. No, we have become fragments of God himself — and divine powers are ours if we only realize the truth of our situation. But for some reason this truth is elusive, we’re not meant to fully grasp it in its entirety all at once, for perhaps we’d choke on its enormity. And so we enter this world ignorant of what we are.
To those that seek, truths are revealed. And from these seekers come sips from a common well of wisdom. Yet like any interpretation, much is lost in translation. Dirty cups taint and spill as contents are transfered ungracefully. For the undiluted truth, we must personally walk the path. If we are to see, it is our own eyes that must open. A seeker’s role is not to teach of what he finds, but simply point the way to the well — allowing he who thirsts to quench himself.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! An alarm clock’s cry. But what use is a single chime, for the message is in the repetition. A pattern so persistent that the message penetrates even the deepest sleep.
I’ve posted succinct essays within this blog for five years. The number of themes are few as I seem to rewrite the same ideas over and over. But a single post is not the point, the message is in the repetition.
By repeatedly writing and re-reading a small set of overlapping ideas, I’ve drilled and hammered a new foundation upon which my perception sits. And it all started with a dream.
This blog has served as my alarm clock, a regular reminder of my higher self. The persistent pattern results in periodic awakening. And so oftentimes, amidst the dramas of daily life, I remember who I am.
“Unleash your power! Let go Jean! Jean let go!” — Professor X
Within the human narrative, there is a common theme of pent-up power. Crushed beneath a giant, energy of the seemingly weak finally surges, building until unleashing as a shockwave of supremacy. The so-called mighty fall at the hands of the formerly meek — after all, was it not said: they shall inherit the earth?
Themes such as this litter our landscape. So tell me again how random this world is? No, it’s as scripted as a book. Just don’t look too closely or you’ll spoil the surprises. It’s a funny thing to consider of course — yet, where would we wander without pre-cut paths? We’d be hacking through thick brush, lost while banging into trees.
It’s a comforting thought you see. They that mourn shall be comforted. Those seeking righteousness shall be satisfied. The merciful shall obtain mercy. What we seek, we shall find. It’s all there, written in plain sight for us to see. But the unrelenting captivation of daily life holds our attention too closely to consider the actuality of our situation.
But when we just keep staring, severing connections to the scenes, constraining ourselves to see only the pixels, we can perceive it — the fiction before us. And by understanding this artificiality, our power flows. “Verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.”
Enlightenment is the realization of life’s illusionary nature. But the trick of course, is maintaining that realization in the forefront of our thoughts. Despite our occasional epiphanies, we tend to go back to living our daily life, lost to life’s little dramas. But really, why would we want to contemplate the unreality of existence in every moment? We’d rather live life, not just think about living life, right?
And that’s true even after we fully conceptualize life’s virtuality. After we attain enlightenment and maintain it, we simply go back to living life. What changes though, is the foundation on which our perceptions are built. For instance, our baseline anxiety drops to zero, our fear fades away, we trust in life’s benevolence.
Life changes from a somber affair filled with dire consequences to a funhouse built to thrill and amuse. Existence becomes an experience in which we gladly engage while appreciating its many facets. But first, the funhouse foundation must be constructed within our minds. And construction is a repetitive process.
A simple epiphany is never enough, we must hammer and drill the idea of virtuality into our heads until it becomes the underlying reason for everything. And once established, then we once again go about our daily business — but this time we walk a lighthearted path, seeing the things before us lit by a resplendent glow.
The ideal we seek is losing ourselves in the excitement of existence, aligning with life, flowing, ever in the zone. It’s like playing a video-game and becoming the character — his quest becomes our own, his hands are extensions of our hands. Or it’s like watching a movie when we surrender our emotions to the protagonist — his plight becomes ours, we wince when he’s struck, feeling his journey as he does.
Yet we can be lost in life, lost to our fear and frustration. If we’re too frightened then we fail to participate, hiding away because we’re worried about what’ll happen next. It’s like never picking up the game-controller or never turning on the movie because we’re scared we won’t like it. And with frustration, if we don’t like how the story or game-play is proceeding, we might sit still, stewing in anger.
Being mindful of the game itself helps us to realign if we find ourselves lost in a bad way. We do want to be lost to the game, but only in the good way. Realizing the illusionary nature of existence helps create the distance necessary to deal with our fear and frustration. It’s just a game, just a movie, just a simple story set in place to amuse us. Then like any activity, the only outcome that matters is whether we enjoy ourselves while performing it.
The protagonist will always struggle before his triumph. Life is supposed to appear hard, as if we could lose at any minute. Teetering on the edge of victory is the most exciting condition we can experience, so the theme is oft repeated. We need to appreciate this condition and embrace the narrative before us. And if we find ourselves lost to fear or frustration, we need to readjust our perspective until we perceive the fiction before us.