I'm Just a Figment of My Own Imagination...
April 26th, 2006A thought occurred to me yesterday while waxing random thoughts with a new friend. I could not possibly be more than I actually am, so I must be less, limited by my own perceptions and self-defeatism... The subsequent questions ineveitably being, "Who is the me that imagined me? What dreamed me up? Is it infinite? Is it limited?" and finally, "How can I become it?"
The resulting lack of answers to such ridiculous questions quickly quashed this line of thought, so I let it marinate... bothering me in the hot part of the back of my head.
Unfortunately, today, in a related tangent, I began to realize I'm only a figment of others' imaginations as well, even more limited than I had suspected by my own thoughts. This is nothing I hadn't already known, but I realized it to an uncomfortable degree today. "A depressed face, a wet carpet, and a strange floral sheet..." This is "the impression of u" (u being me) as stated by Eggy today.
"Wow. That's... horrible." I could hardly be less. "I suppose a plain face, unnoticeable carpet, and unremarkable sheet would be worse, but not terribly so." ... She just laughed and agreed.
Does the number "one" know it fills a larger role. Does it actually fill a larger role or is it just hopeful thinking? Is it's finite value truly part of a larger value or is it really only one, differing from all other one's only in temporality and location? Does it have boundaries or were those simply defined by others trying to put chaos in order, separate and identify, limited themselves by further imaginary separations.
If a tree falls through an eternal void, does it exist?
