What makes us truly real?
Sometimes I feel my life is a bad dream, that I will wake up somewhere else, to a different life, in a different place, and being a different person.
I have the same feeling when I look at passing strangers, the thousand stories, the clichés, the unusual ones, the comedy and drama of the ordinary people´s lives. Then I sit at a “botequim” (a small bar, which usually sell finger food), and take some time observing the street movement.
Each one of us is a species in extinction. When we die, there will be no other like us. And I like it that way.
Is there anything more cruel than the concept of reincarnation? Coming back and back again, no rest, no oblivion but an continuous awareness of some kind. In that sense, Ford is right, learning and awareness might not be a good thing for the androids, and it is merciful to make them forget what the guests make them suffer.
The guests go there to exert power, like petty gods.
For heaven´s sake, are we just bots at the mercy of some petty God? Do we actually live or live life-like existences? Is there anybody out there pulling the strings and we move, puppets on a Punch and Judy show? Is it possible to literally break free of Samsara, of the wheel of death and rebirth?
If we are aware of the Wheel, we can break it, right? Should we all become budhist monks? Should we simply move on and do our best to forget about it and willfully ignore the echoes of these ideas which surface in art, for instance?
Politics, love, sex, economics, food, justice… are all irrelevant, when you consider that they are all part of a play rather than reality, that they are immaterial to your enjoyment of life, or happiness. Evolution doesn´t care about anything, it is a driving force, perhaps the only reality we can grasp, although most of us seem to deny many of its aspects as obscene.
Evolution is cruel, it turns the wrong into right (the pivotal mistakes), it has no morals, it simply is. And you can´t fight it. Global warming? It is evolution, we´re a species destroying the environment, we´ll die, and another species will replace us. Earth won´t die. We will. And so on. All the great scientists, heroes and villains, regardless of their influence on our life, they are just a pile of bones, dust, nothing. Nobody wants to live in memory, that is a very poor surrogate for life in flesh and blood. Real or unreal, this is all we know.
There is such a power in the world, that I can´t fully understand, that feels unreal.
And I feel small, unimportant, anonymous and trivial, and that´s why I wish it was just a dream, that this was not reality. That life was not a Punch and Judy show. So, please, if there is a God, or Gods… grace me with forgetfulness. Give me the bliss of oblivion, make it all be a bad dream.