Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Wandering and Wondering

I think therefore I am.

Some like to say that this is all we really actually know. They say that since all of our information is given to us by our brain, we have no solid proof as to whether or not our world actually exists. Sure, we can reach out and touch something and ‘feel’ it, but all we are doing is receiving an interpretation of what our brains have received from our nerves. Who’s to say life is not an invention of the mind, that reality is as real as a dream or a nightmare?

But we think, and that means that we at least exist; we are some sort of entity with an active conscious. There is also a gut feeling we all have, something else we ‘know.’ At some moment in time, my mind, or whatever drives my conscious, will critically and absolutely fail; I will die. Being a conscious, all I have ever known is existence, so no amount of evidence or speculation will reveal to me without a doubt what will occur when this failure happens.

Maybe religion has the right way of it. Perhaps there’s some conscious greater than mine which is the origin of everything I have ever ‘known’,  a conscious that created me out of its own righteous ‘goodness’, or maybe just curiosity. When the body I have been given fails, a spirit from within me will rise to meet this great thinking entity that floats outside of reality and I will be judged on the quality of this spirit or ‘soul’, which is actually me, my conscious. I will be helpless and powerless to control the fate of my after-life.

Maybe everything is in fact a dream and death will just be the end of a story. I will just be borne onto another reality or my life will repeat like a broken record, and I will never gain awareness of this. I will just go on existing and re-existing until the end of time, entirely oblivious of what is really driving my reality, if anything at all.

Maybe just before the light leaves my eyes my conscious will become acutely aware of its mortality and frantically fight to revive its dieing engine: my brain. My life will flash before my eyes and I’ll see everything I’ve experienced, every person I’ve known. But this will not last, and I will sink closer and closer to non-existence. Finally my conscious will be reduced to a child-like state, crying and crying and crying for the comfort of life or just someone I love. Then I’ll lose all grip on thought and it’ll be as if I never existed and pain and love and everything else won’t matter anymore.

I would like to hope that in my last moments my mind will cling to my conscious, that I will fall into an everlasting shelter frozen in time where I will know that I am dead, where I can reflect on my life and create any new world or scenario I care to imagine. I will be able to fondly recall everyone I have ever loved. A perfect dream. A heaven where I am my own god. Everything I could ever want.

Or perhaps it will be like dreamless sleep. I’ll close my eyes and my conscious will simply wonder off into oblivion, hoping against hope that the darkness will end and I’ll wake up to the morning sun of a fresh new day.

I should probably just stop thinking and go to bed.

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