Inspired by the movie of the same title.
Our waking life is infinitely shorter than every dream we ever have. I know that most of you have woken up in the morning, seeing it be some time such as 10:13. You don't have to get up just yet, so you go back to sleep. You have an intricate, complex dream, one that seems to take hours upon hours to complete. And when you wake up again, it's 10:14.
This leads me to believe that our waking life is exponentially shorter than our dream state. But how can anyone be sure which is which?
When you die, you have about 6-12 minutes of brain activity, even after the rest of your body shuts down. What happens in those few minutes? It could be your whole life, being looked at as a memory from the perspective of someone who has already died. 6-12 minutes of dream state is an entire lifetime, but compared to waking time, it's insignificant; enough time to smoke a cigarette, enough time to have a small conversation, enough time to finish that last bit of coffee, enough time to catch the bus.
Why is it that a dream's minute is infinitely longer than a waking minute? Is there some sort of escape that our brain needs during our sleep? There's an explaination for dreams, sure, chemicals and everything else. But why does it seem to take so long to finish a dream?
After all, who knows if we're awake or not? Ever have dreams where you seem to 'wake up', but are still trapped within a dream? False awakening is what it's called. But what if every time you woke up, it was just another dream? Every time you closed your eyes, you wake up somewhere else and begin again?
What's real, ladies and gentlemen, is the fact that life is one long, continuous moment. One in which someone's asking "Are you ready to go?" We keep answering "No, not yet.", but in the end, we're ready to go into eternity. We eventually say yes.
But what causes that, as well, is a mystery. What's to say that answering the question with an affirmative doesn't just lead us to another dream to wake up from?
And here lies the problem. Is all of existence a sham, an elaborate dream-hallucination I've created inside my head? Are all the theories that hold the universe together just fake? Ask yourself these same questions and you might look at life a little bit differently.
Reality swirled in a wholly blue manner, revealing absolutely nothing of merit. Things flashed madly in and out of existence like some entirely other sort of phenomena. On a whim, Kurt Vonnegut imploded, taking a sizeable hunk of Massachusetts with him. However, seeing as Massachusetts wasn't entirely sure it existed, the chunk wasn't all that big.




