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I had a dream within a dream last night.
The outer dream was of me, the "real me" dreaming and then reacting to the dream.
The inner dream went something like this:
It opens with me standing in a long, slow-moving line toward a judge. Turns out, he's called the Judgement Master. As I moved toward the front, a functionary handed me a headset through which I learned the nature of "god."
It seems that our universe was created by a more or less "Mad Scientist" type in an alien university as a teaching tool. Groups of people were created by undergrads or grad students for practical experience or to run experiments in design, functionality and so forth.
The purpose of the Judgement Master was to grade the students efforts. The experiment's life would be examined from conception to death looking for what worked, what didn't, what was intended, and what actually happened.
I reached the front of the queue and faced the JM. I won't bore us with Lynn's Life Story because it didn't really play out in the dream. Just a lot of expression in the JM's manner. And every few moments, it (not human, you see. Our pronouns don't fit) added weights to one side of a large balance scale. The other side held a lump of rainbow colored goo that I was told represented what I might consider a "soul" but was more like a recording device of my life.
The scale was locked off so there was no way to tell if the added weights were enough or too much. The trick, according to the JM was to get a perfect balance. That doesn't mean, though, that the "human" had a perfect life, or even a good life. It meant the highest score for the student.
When the sorting out of my life was complete, the student in question came into the room to see what grade it was going to get. The scale was unlocked and the side with the weights dropped like a stone. My student "god" failed. Nothing else was expected, though, for a first year!
Then the critique. The tedious explanation of what was intended (not so good for me, I'll tell you), what actually happened, what were the pivotal events that shaped outcome, and what coping mechanism were present and missed.
For most of the discussion, I couldn't follow because it wasn't intended for me. But I could tell that the student's effort was even less that adequate even for a first year. This experiment (me!) would have to be conducted again.
Then I woke up from the inner dream into the outer dream.
The dreaming me was awake, sweaty, cold and clammy in my bed. I was miserable. I don't think I've every felt that miserable in waking life. I had no will to live and less will to move. Life seemed hopeless.
I got out of bed, went into my closet and closed the door behind me. And there, I blew the top of my head off with my favorite shotgun. (There were many guns in that closet.)
The next thing I know, I'm standing in a long, slow-moving line......
The outer dream was of me, the "real me" dreaming and then reacting to the dream.
The inner dream went something like this:
It opens with me standing in a long, slow-moving line toward a judge. Turns out, he's called the Judgement Master. As I moved toward the front, a functionary handed me a headset through which I learned the nature of "god."
It seems that our universe was created by a more or less "Mad Scientist" type in an alien university as a teaching tool. Groups of people were created by undergrads or grad students for practical experience or to run experiments in design, functionality and so forth.
The purpose of the Judgement Master was to grade the students efforts. The experiment's life would be examined from conception to death looking for what worked, what didn't, what was intended, and what actually happened.
I reached the front of the queue and faced the JM. I won't bore us with Lynn's Life Story because it didn't really play out in the dream. Just a lot of expression in the JM's manner. And every few moments, it (not human, you see. Our pronouns don't fit) added weights to one side of a large balance scale. The other side held a lump of rainbow colored goo that I was told represented what I might consider a "soul" but was more like a recording device of my life.
The scale was locked off so there was no way to tell if the added weights were enough or too much. The trick, according to the JM was to get a perfect balance. That doesn't mean, though, that the "human" had a perfect life, or even a good life. It meant the highest score for the student.
When the sorting out of my life was complete, the student in question came into the room to see what grade it was going to get. The scale was unlocked and the side with the weights dropped like a stone. My student "god" failed. Nothing else was expected, though, for a first year!
Then the critique. The tedious explanation of what was intended (not so good for me, I'll tell you), what actually happened, what were the pivotal events that shaped outcome, and what coping mechanism were present and missed.
For most of the discussion, I couldn't follow because it wasn't intended for me. But I could tell that the student's effort was even less that adequate even for a first year. This experiment (me!) would have to be conducted again.
Then I woke up from the inner dream into the outer dream.
The dreaming me was awake, sweaty, cold and clammy in my bed. I was miserable. I don't think I've every felt that miserable in waking life. I had no will to live and less will to move. Life seemed hopeless.
I got out of bed, went into my closet and closed the door behind me. And there, I blew the top of my head off with my favorite shotgun. (There were many guns in that closet.)
The next thing I know, I'm standing in a long, slow-moving line......