i dreamt that a bunch of friends and I were trapped in a decrepit old house. there was a room which looked deserted, but after opening the door, and peering inquisitively inside the safe haven, a figure burst out and roared, scaring the shit out of me.
That made me wonder. How cool is the brain! It has, for lack of a better analogy, a story-processing center and an experiential center that are completely disassociated. What I mean is, if it’s my dream, I should know what’s coming up, since well, it’s what I’m thinking. But I don’t! Leading the the shocking conclusion at the end. There’s some mental disconnect between me spinning the yarn, and me living the yarn. Impressive.
Perhaps it could be due to the sleeping pill I took last night. That’s also pretty cool stuff.
