THE COLD HARD TRUTH

 THE COLD HARD TRUTH: The universe is an evolving magical place.  Whatever you are able to imagine is yours.  Plus, whatever someone else imagines (that your senses can appreciate) is yours too, which is why plays, movies, and video games are more popular than what has been densified into physicality.  The physical is deadly for the physical, the imagined not so much.

All I see now are characters, actors in a play.  I see them taking the play seriously, filled with cares and woes and concerns, hoping to survive another day in comfort, even hoping to enjoy another day in the play.  Knowing the truth is a greater comfort than anything the play offers.

I am a fictional character in a fiction story.  Life is the author.  Because I have a self-aware mind and I observe myself, my mind created an “I” persona, and the persona thinks it’s real.  It even believes it had a life before being in this story, and will have life in some next story.  It may be so.

Being awake means you realize you are a fictional character in a fiction story, novel or  Netflix series (if the characters didn’t think they were real, it wouldn’t be a story worth reading or a movie worth watching).  Awake characters are out of character and ruin the movie.

I am a character in a book and I know it.  The pages of the book have no virtue, no morality, no ethics, no good, no bad, no heros, no villain, no antagonists, no protagonists, no conflicts and no problems to solve, but the actors do.

Through the eyes and in the minds of the programmed actors everything needs solving that doesn’t agree with their programing.  Actors are  hammers looking for nails.

Life is itself imagining and dreaming stories filled with actors, and I am one of them.  I am an imaged-form (a mind created human in a mind created story) just a figment in life’s imagination.  Life is “forever”.  I am temporary, dreamed into existence (however, there may be sequels).  

Where do actors go when they die, or are killed in a story?  They go to memory heaven or hell if they were main characters.  The lessor character-actors are forgotten.  To revitalize them, rebirth them, to bring them back to mind, to life, you have to find the book and read it again.

In the story of life, actors in the story can make up their own stories, and they do.  It’s part of the plot, theme, tone, style that is the story of life.  They can imagine, dream and believe whatever they are capable of.  It adds spice to the story of life.

Why does life make up stories?  Stories are entertaining. Life is entertaining itself, using its imagination on a cold, dark, dreary night when the power went out.

Life is the writer, author, producer, director, set and costume designer, and all the other jobs needed to bring a story, or script, to the big screen of life.  The characters and actors are written in because without them no one would read the book or watch the movie.  No one likes to watch paint dry.

Right now you are reading this or it is being read to you, and if you are not still programmed, you think, “HOLY SHIT!  NOW WHAT?”    You sit back and reflect on the details, the premise of your new realization, which is, if life had done nothing, I wouldn’t exist.  I exist because life did something.  What did life do?  How did it do it?  Why did it do it?  What the hell was life thinking?  

life was thinking how funny it made human characters, how entertaining they are and how predictably unpredictable they are, and it knew exactly why–because he made them that way, neurosis and all.  Life made humans, made human nature, gave them self-aware minds and emotions, and from that time to this, life hasn’t stopped laughing at his own genius imagination.

Life’s imagined characters are wickedly entertaining because life dreams them that way.  Anything less would be boooooring.  Life endowed his imagined characters with dispositions, temperaments, attitudes and personalities (among other things).  Life made them brilliant, nuts, and definitely needy, which means humans are  absolutely entertaining because of the way they think, feel, act, do things, meaning–their attributes, which are, “I want to survive (or not, and if not they quickly disappear out of the script).  I want to be happy.   I have needs, wants desires that must be met to be happy.  I get physically, mentally, emotionally attached, entangled and identified with people, places, things, which sucks when they are written out of the script.  I have a way life must go.  I have expectations and preferences that the author better damn well meet, or I’ll exit stage left.