i’m about to start to dream.
in a sense, dreaming is the best form of escape from reality, because you get to escape the societal shutters on your mind, closeting the freedom of thought and expression of ideas to - in a frightening turn of events - yourself, and you still get to call your mind your own. the story you tell yourself is that the dream is natural, though it’s among the most peculiar things conceivable, and apart from its thoroughly organic root there is no good reason to ever consider intense and complex hallucinatory sequences your mind throws up in your sleep as a component of normalcy. the set up is eerily similar to a brain occupation or inception of some variety in a product of Hollywood, except you’re occupying your own mind. nevertheless, the strangeness, the discomfort, the technicolor quality should inspire more unease in people, for that is nothing but a manifestation of themselves, and there really is no good reason to not try and reconcile ones true self with what one thinks one is.
even what you dream about is inherently affected by societal pressures and constricts, and you are hence inherently a product of your society and your own reactionism to it. i mean, think about the complete lack of logic that our aspirations, on a more tangible level, represent without the constricts of society. happiness, a concept that is often identified as the true aim individuals in a society seek is defined in marvellously concrete terms, with the pathway clearly marked out. the happiness of a person is measured in income, job stability, the standard of living of their family members, the number of trips they took to Disneyland as a kid, the trimming of the hedges in ones garden to the perfect height every morning, in African children eating food, discovery of the self, in the amount of time between landing and disembarking you save by flying first class, and any other number of markers that society tells you to be happy because of. If society hadn’t told you that this was a happy occasion, would you even be happy because of it? and then how much of your activity do you conduct because of, inevitably, happiness as the driving force?
in this sense, then what are we without society? there is no good way to substitute your heritage, your culture or origin and social context in it, the situation you grew up, because your way of thinking is governed just by that. without your experiences and the choices you made under a set of circumstances, you are not the same entity or even definable as a human. without society, you are something else entirely.
but in this context of a self, where do dreams come in? where do flights of fancy of the unbridled subconscious that take you soaring over the impossible and the non-envisionable fit in our conceptualizations of ourselves? what role do your secrets play; your most horrible, twisted fantasy that you are sure will land you straight in the insane asylum if you were to ever share them - or even your most surreptitious pleasure that has hid itself for too long, and now needs to burst free of the constricts imposed by the structure in your mind.
there are many you’s, but which you is you?