It's interesting thinking about the projections we live out in our heads. They never become real, but they run alongside, very real in their own sense, a sort of fallback of either comfort or conflict, quiet rooms of peace or busy rooms of problem solving.
They're all real.
We are so saturated with imaginary stories, surrounded by books, view screens, stages. We play dolls and house and doctor and cars and spy and superhero and all that from very young ages, and we never stop. We keep playing in our heads, on consoles, over medias, in journals. We live alongside piles of stories while we live out our own.
They're all real.
Could humans even live without some kind of running dialogue in our minds? Could we possibly be cognizant at all if it weren't for owning some kind of narrative? And we practice these narratives continually, consciously or not. It's just part of who we are, constant streams and blips of scenarios and convos while we're either figuring things out or escaping from something.
They're all real.
Everything we dream up, we are really doing, somehow, right here in our heads. All the simulations we run, all the imagined scenarios we play out, all of that is a very real part of who we are, what we are becoming as individuals and as civilizations.
They're all real.
There is only a very thin veil of consciousness between what is real on the outside of us and what is real on the inside of us. There are abysses of disagreement on what is real between two individuals, each spinning out thousands upon thousands of stories in their heads throughout their lives, but somewhere in all that they are aware of being real together in a unique way that doesn't come from the insides of their heads, because the only way they can possibly meet is on the outside. Still, what we bring to each meeting is all the stuff we carry around inside us.
They're all real.
Your reality, your realness, your stream of consciousness quietly humming along underneath a stream of neverending physical interaction in a multidimensional medium, your plethora of double lives, skewed realities, frustrating schisms, hopeful plans and dreams of happiness- hello from my timewarped stream of consciousness on Pinky blog.
We're all real.
Where is my head?
Keep this in mind- If you can think it, it is real, because it's coming from a real brain in real spacetime.
All the pix in this post click back to sources.
