My friend Emily wrote about a dream she had:
Today I had a dream everyone I ever knew was trapped in the discovery center wooden playground because the world was ending. We all went in the weird slanted box at the end and sat down when it happened.
I think the end of the world is no different than the end of a dream, in the way that waking up is always a whole universe of possibility melting into another. And when we say the end of the world what we mean is the end of humanity, or of all terrestrial life. I don’t think we mean the absolute negation of all existence. I don’t think any of us really understands how this relates to consciousness.
There is a theory of consciousness call orchestrated objection reduction, in which the rate, or significance, of an instance of consciousness corresponds to the mass of particles within the cognate form, and the rate at which they achieve quantum coherence. I am not a scientist. I can only explain this theory roughly, but what I think I understand about it is that all matter is capable of consciousness. Without getting into a long bout of exposition here, this would mean the world only ends when everything, yes, everything, ceases to exist. I don’t think we’re capable of understanding what this means.
Perhaps the closest we can come to an understanding of the instant cessation of existence is through Nick Bostrom’s simulation theory, which says that probabilities are very high that what we know as existence is a computer simulation. Should the plug be pulled on this simulation, everything would very much cease to exist.
Once, while at summer camp, I watched a group of teenage counselors staring at an old black and white TV, turning it on, then off, in amazement as the picture dissolved into a single dot of light. I didn’t understand drugs yet.
To live now often feels as though we’re living through an ending, and this may be our own ending, or an extradimensional perception of something coming down the pipe. Either way, I think we’ve always felt this way. Still, it’s as real as feelings get.
We are all in a weird slanted box now, I think. So maybe this is a sign that we’re close to the end. The way we perceive the world around us is limited in a way that boxes in our understanding. This is a stretch, which is what we attempt when in a box.
I often think about that scene when Ursa, Non, and General Zod are encubed in Superman II. I feel like that cube is what we’re living inside, flying though space at 80,000 miles per hour, endlessly spinning. And I like it.