I'm standing in a huge, gaping black void. There's feature to this place. But I know it; I have been here before. Yet at the same time, I do no know it. It feels familiar but I don't know where I am.
"What is this place?" I breathe. From seemingly no where emerges She.
"This," she replies, in that voice that chills me every time I hear it. "This is a place on the fringe of dream and reality. The meeting point between the two."
"Then why is it so dark? So empty?" I ask, confused. My eyes meet Hers.
"Sometimes we cannot tell what is real and what is dream."
"What exactly are dreams ?"
"A dream is an alternative reality, a fantasy that you create to get away form the truth. From your reality."
"Then what is reality? How can we know what&'s real and what's not? How do we know when we are dreaming? How can we prove reality?"
"You can't. Reality is a mystery, it is unknown."
"If we cannot prove what is real, if we don't know when we are dreaming, then how do we know we are alive. How do we know that we exist? If we can't prove reality, neither can we prove our existence. How do I know I am real?"
"I don't have the answer. But you are thinking, you are speaking. Is that not proof?"
"Maybe. Maybe, but how can be sure that these hands, this body are me? I could simply be a floating being with no form. If a dream is a reality I create, couldn't I dream this being, this world I live in?"
"Possibly."
"But this world has so much fear, so much pain in it. I have suffered so much hurt, so much pain. Why would a create a world like this?"
"If this form you take is not really you, and you have dreamed this world, then you would have to create it that way to make yourself believe you exist. If you felt pain, surely then you must be real. It would be an act to fool yourself."
"What about all the other people? Every other being. They all thin for themselves. Surely that is proof."
"It could be. But if you can create pain, then you must be able to create other people. It is merely like writing a story."
"But they can think for themselves. They have thoughts and emotions. They have free will."
"How can you prove that? Can you prove they truly think for themselves?"
"I... I can't. Maybe I created them, maybe I am a creation myself."
"Is that not the basis of most religion? Humans are creations."
"Then if I was created by God, am I real or not? Or have I created God and this theory of religion in an attempt to prove, to justify my existence? Am I real? Surely if I wasn't real, I couldn't be speaking, nor could I be thinking. I'm confused."
"You mentioned God. I didn't know you believed in a God."
"I suppose I do. But I'm human; I need knowledge before I follow something. I cannot be satisfied with not knowing. We were never meant to understand, but when Eve was tempted we gained knowledge and began to crave knowledge and understanding. I'm human to. I follow human urges. I have to survive, to eat and to gain knowledge. It's sort of like a human flaw, like greed or violence."
"Does being human mean you exist?"
"I don't know. If I can dream pain and other people then how can I prove it? I just don't understand."
"You said it yourself," murmurs She. "You were not meant to have understanding. You are not meant to understand."
Sunday, January 4
Imaginary Friends, Imaginary conversations - II
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
hehe...am I also not meant to understand? :P
I did not understand anything =$
you've really been THINKING.
I liked. very very much.
hmmm...saale Paulo Coelho bante ja rahe ho ekdum..accha hai bahut accha hai..
@ anonymous
really ? :|
@ lalaith.
thank you. Thinking is something i do everyday everytime for sure.
@ biahr :
ahh! paulo coehlo hi mila tha comapre akrne ko :@ ..dhanyawaad anyways.
Post a Comment