One Cubic Centimeter of Reality
I dreamt that I was faced with a choice: if I could control one cubic centimeter of reality — with god-like control — what would I do with that power? It seemed obvious to me, that given the small size, there can be no practical goal. I would make that cube super groovy fantastic pleasurable. Even if I could never experience it myself, that is what I’d do with my choice. All choices are equal, and this one is groovy and fantastic.
If I had two cubic centimeters, I’d do the same. If I had four, I’d use four. If I had the volume of a human body, I’d use it the same way. While this thought progression was occurring, I was perceiving this groovy pleasurableness grow in me, and it ultimately filled my body. It was like a full-body orgasm that was very persistent. I was quite delirious with pleasure. I had to struggle to maintain my awareness. I felt that there was a risk that it should fly apart and then I’d lose the memory of what had happened. I sought to bring the sensation under order. I was able to decide. It was as though I could say, yes, I accept this and I am making this a part of me. The arrow of my person would henceforth be pointed in this direction, even after losing the ability to go the whole distance. It seemed like I had at last made a big mental wealth achievement.
Later, while awake, I thought of the (historical) sinking of the ferry MS Estonia, which is a grim tale seemingly quite at antipodes with the experience I just described. But it is the same tale from a different perspective.
On 28 September 1994, at 01:15, the Estonia had taken a terminal list. Out of 989 passengers and crew, only 137 would survive. At 01:15, all the survivors had (or should have had) the same question in mind: am I moving toward an exit? The people who wondered what the crew was doing about the problem are still in the ship. The people who were inconvenienced are still there. The people who were triggered, who had bad dads, who felt overwhelmed — all still there, 80 meters beneath the surface of the Baltic sea. The bodies have never been removed.
One moment came, at 01:15, when all players were reset to zero; no past experiences, handicaps, or wealth could answer that one question: am I moving toward an exit? At 01:30, the ship’s list was so steep, the passengers could not reach the outside decks. By 01:50, there was no point in trying.
No matter what your life circumstances are, no matter what injuries you’ve suffered in the past, the present moment always offers the same question: am I moving toward an exit? Am I moving toward the life I want, or am I drowning in the life I’ve been given?
At some point, you have to realise that the (relative) comfort of your listing cabin is an illusion.
In the next dream, I thought that I was awake and daydreaming / writing in my office. It took some time for me to notice that the furnishings were 18th century. I realised that I was dreaming and that I was dreaming of being a different person in a different time. And yet, this person, with distinct background and experiences, seemed to be very much me. And he was not the only one. I also dreamt of being a woman kneading bread in a medieval village, and several others. These people were all thinking the same thing, and it was just what I’ve described above. They were aware that they had the one question to ask. It was as though different people at different points in history asked that question, and in those moments, the lucidity connected them in some timeless realm.
What I experienced was something more than being in a psychedelic room with other people. I was them, and I was shifting through identities with increasing speed. It became a blur of consciousness; there was a kind of summed consciousness. It was not concerned with the details of the individual lives — in fact, it had no apprehension of them. It was rather concerned with answering the one question. It was focused on the question, and that means; it was implicitly identifying everything irrelevant or contrary to that, and was developing a stream of consciousness free of such hindrances. It was meditating. At one point, it noticed what it was doing and became aware of itself as a conscious being. This was mind-blowing — following a lower level of mind-blowing.
After this peak, I fell back into dreaming the individual lives that made up that being. From there, I fell back to being aware of my waking life, and then I woke up into it.
This day, if any, is an example of what I mean when I say that dreaming is the original religion. This was for sure a mystic experience, on a par with any vision quest or hallucinogenic trip. It is as though dreams provide a ramp to a world of mystical experience, but we most often roll only part way up before rolling back down. It takes a certain amount of momentum to get over the top of the ramp, and many of our daily mental practices cheat us of that momentum. I have had the good fortune to accidentally rally enough momentum, and then I have been left in subsequent days trying to reconstruct how that happened. How must I change my mental habits during the day such that I have momentum when I dream? That is the religion part.