Omega
✓
Hi,
When I was a child, I had this recurring dream. I’m in a white room. Bright. Moments where I’m in my first person and others in the third, a fish-eye camera hanging off my temple. In these moments, I’m leaking anxiety. I’m lost to where I am or why I’m there. I can’t see the floor, the walls, the corners. A black, inky blob begins to form around me, surrounding me, pulsing. It’s a direct contrast to the environment. I’m sweating. I know because in third person I can see it. Back in first person, I start to spin, tracking the blob during my rotations. As I accelerate, the contrast blurs until the blob and the room become a unified, featureless void. I feel the ceiling open up, but my memory of this dream becomes fuzzy.
Well, I wake up and I’m sweaty...
I never made the connection between this dream and my helpless feelings about the universe (in Alpha), but like they’re connected and stuff.
Forty years later, I fantasize The End. With helplessness, for sure. Is this common? Doubt it. Healthy? Yyyyy-no? You have no business contemplating time before existence nor the thing after. And the where? WHERE do we exist? WHERE is our universe? IN WHAT VESSEL? Is it a vessel? A medium? Brane Cosmology offers The Bulk, but what contains the container?
Is the true nature of this medium fundamentally absent to a mind bound by our present dimensional constraints? Now to a lesser, yet still colossal degree: superstructures. They’re revolving around something greater that’s revolving around something even greater. Orders of magnitude greater. Where is it? What the fuck is it? Who’s Shapley! Does the absolute center that commands revolution exist? We’re being repelled, too? Did I do something? Am I depressed? We’ll never know (about the universe).
In my dream, this blob cast no shadows. Maybe it was too bright. Maybe The Bulk was light. Or maybe the blob was the sum total of existence in the uppermost dimensions, where shadows are impossible. If the blob is the vessel itself, there is no outside for a shadow to fall upon. Just us and the room. I’m VERY frustrated.
Now, the end. There’s an end. There’s an end to you and to everything our senses and instruments have measured. We’re but a bead in the quantum foam where bubbles form and pop cosmic realms in and out of existence. But nothingness is impossible; we inevitably blink out for another superset of potential to blink in. A transition, not a vanishing. A balance where the energy of our end provides the pressure for another thing to emerge and my brain insists fish-eye was the way to look at it.
I hope this message finds you.