Bridges in the NightFebruary 9th, 2010 by Sharkchild
There are times when you don’t have a presence in this world. These times are when you close your eyes, dust off your mind, and transcend consciousness into the oblivion of dream. You become a puppet to unknown hands. Sometimes you are thrown into a pit of horror where devils of uncouth ways create a world more sinister than any known situation of your waking hours. Sometimes you are not even a first-person entity and are but an apparitional spectator looking in on a moment assembled for someone else. Dreaming,
in a very forthright and often disregarded designation, with its non-present consciousness, is a demonstration of chance. But how can chance—the same chance applied to rolling the dice or buying a Lotto ticket—be applied to the self, when the mind and its inner workings are indisputably separate from any other sciences and natures of the world and universe that would have a cause and effect? How can chance writhe, convulse, and vomit in your own head, independently?
Your dreams are you, but they aren’t. You didn’t think of them consciously, which really means you didn’t think of them at all. But your brain, as it exists as a machine apart from your consciousness, still functions, and with its functioning apart from your consciousness, it reveals a second existence lingering within you—a second self, a raw, uninhibited second self that pays no heed to right or wrong, good or evil, ethics or immorality; it gives into passion, it gives into lust, it gives into abysmal, terrible, carnal actions that make you say it can’t be you. I agree with you. It’s not you; it’s your second self. Either that or it’s something else that joins you while you sleep and dances in your mind.