Revelatory Dream.

 

 

The dream must have involved an Under Ground rail-road that borrowed images from several games: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (The Fire Trial), Spyro the Dragon, Ripto’s Rage: The level I imagined in a dream to be Ripto’s level, Jak and Daxter III: The Catacombs, Harry Potter (Gringotts), and perhaps A Bug’s Life and/or Cliff Town in the original Spyro.

 

Yet it culminated in what seemed like a three-layer Cake the colour of this custard morning and treading the in-between betwixt Dream and Awakeness.

 

Prior to explaining these last three dreams, wherein I was part-asleep and part-INTP, I should mention that these things all so happened:

 

                Palomar College.

                The train station.

                Driving about some place like San Marcos by car. I must have been the passenger seat.

 

                Now: The layer-cake.

 

1.       Wandering about down Avenida Venusto, where I would usually go with Pumpkin and where I met Parham Gholami that first time that we walked, (just beyond the inter-section) I encountered some peculiar thing, I think in the crux of a tree, that served either to prove a desperate point I had or to spell some impending doom, if not both.

I later found a drum-stick with something at its end that was bent like the head of a crochet-pin. It resembled a beak, as in a parrot.

 

2.       I was arguing with K. He was in my house, in the kitchen, I think. He and I were disputing the ‘facts’ that an M.R.I. can trace any kind of brain activity you could think of.

I must have abstained from using the argument I had used in Waking Life:

That simply because one can monitor the activity that does not mean that the origin of water, even though one could monitor in much the same way the heat of the faucet, which will depend upon the heat of the water but not necessarily be the cause for the water’s heat).

 

A heated argument broke out. I denied out-rightly the empirical evidence of the M.R.I. I said that the sense organs lie. I might even have said as early as this: The brain could be conical for all we know and we wouldn’t know. It is not divided into ‘parts’ by nature; we simply lend it those distinctions. The mind imposes its categories upon reality and simulates it.

No one observer is unprejudiced.

We can observe activity in the brain, but the distinction of which ‘region’ of the brain it occurs in is thus arbitrary. I was shouting Now. We buy into a shared delusion and hallucination because to have a contradictory hallucination would deem us Crazy. The mind filters these alternate worlds out and leaves them unconscious.

Kresten’s demeanour was infuriatingly calm and self-assured. Then, like a decisive slap in the face, he said:

‘Well, guess what? The doctor is going to take care of me.’*

And that was the end of conversation and Episode.

3.       The third part took place in a space akin to Christopher’s blank wind-space from third grade. The only distinguishing characteristic was the intrusive morning light that I usually welcome and that Kresten so dreads.

The presence of a Thinker was Dubious.

But there were Thoughts.

Conclusions:

                The brain is in fact a cone.

                Our sensory data would evidence this, could it reach the Mind.

The Mind and the Senses are out of accord. A bureaucracy exists between them that is marked by mis-communication.

The mind only pays attention to the Encultured View. The Senses try to communicate the Conical nature of the brain to the mind, but they lack the words to do so.

Words belong to Culture.

All experience is intellectually intersubjective takes place in the Mind.

It is hard to say whether this was all a part of the Dream or simply my thoughts upon waking. Is there even a difference? Where does the Ocean end and the wet-sand begin?

                Dm.A.A.

*Paraphrased.²

 

If this were true, it would invalidate all arguments against it. One could freely posit ‘different parts of the mind’ without fear of legitimate reproof from neuro-science, for it would evidence if not the fallacy of neuro-science then its fallibility. The inquiry would be culturally relative. If adopting an old mythological way of viewing the Mind, Body, and Soul – such as the Hindu or Native American way – has merit even in opposition to Scientific ideology, (based in Cartesianism) then so does this.

One can speak freely of ‘parts of the mind’ in an attempts to understand one’s self without appealing to the shelter of an Outside Opinion. The truly poetic is so vague that science does not even offer answers to the most ambiguous and deep appetites of the Soul, preferring to discuss the vague as delusional. This I have seen in the attitudes of researchers. If a shared hallucination such as the Sighting of the Virgin Mary could be dismissed as the superstitious projections upon random phenomena by the members of a culture with a binding religious world-view, and if this kind of thing is barely different from the phenomenon of shared dreaming, then not only does the attempts to clear away the Mystery create more questions (by affirming Shared Dreams), but all so the same could be said of all Scientific research and peer review.

If the answers provided by the Unconscious and interpreted by Consciousness awake that child-like spirit of wondrous Doubt, then not only can they be said from a pragmatic angle to ‘work’ but they surpass those models created arbitrarily by Consciousness alone.

And the Unconscious cannot be denied in its power, not only because of things like Shared Dreams, Premonitions, and Hallucinations, but all so because the very aim of Science must be the unveiling of That Which is Unknown: The Unconscious.

 

                                                                                                Dm.A.A.

 

². ‘Seeing a doctor’ could mean two things:

1. On the surface, it lends Science an authority by the presence of Doctors.

Doctors are owed to the study of Medicine. Thus pragmatism lends Science value.

2. It lends Doctors an authority by the presence of Science.

                ‘Woah.

                For a moment there

                I might have started thinking

                for myself.

 

                I would see a doctor.’

               

Dm.A.A.

 

Kresten’s fears of going Crazy are assuaged by yet manifested in his Faith in Science. I saw however a maddening fervor for Science in his eyes last night that actually made Me worried for my Sanity and his.

 

Could Science be the Traitor?

 

For K., it very well might be. But I should not rush to judge. It’s his call.

Dm.A.A.