Does someone singing ever make you frown?
Does someone talking to giant mice
Ever make you feel not nice?
No, I’m not turning into a poet. A friend of mine from high school came up with this years ago, and when I saw today’s prompt was “real,” it was the first thing I thought of. Actually, no, the first thing I thought of was real analysis, a math course I had to take that made absolutely no sense when I was taking it, but I took it because I wanted to get my degree in Math and that’s one of the classes you take. Real analysis is based on real numbers, which are basically not complex numbers, which are numbers of the form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is the square root of -1. Everybody knows that, right?
Anyway, I got thinking about reality because I read Lori Carlson’s SoCS entry (which was excellent, and you should click on the link and go read it. Don’t worry, I’ll leave this window open for you) about not knowing what’s real and what’s imagined. Do you remember the last show of the series St. Elsewhere, which ran for six seasons back in the 1980’s? Where, at the end, we learn that the whole thing was the dream of an autistic kid looking at a snow globe? I wonder sometimes if that’s us, living in the imagination of some being somewhere. God, maybe, I’m not sure.
Did you ever see the alternate explanation for the TV show Friends, that said the whole thing happened in Phoebe’s head? That she was actually a homeless crack addict who would stare in the window of Central Perk and make up stories about Rachel, Ross, Joey, Chandler, and Monica and insert herself into them? Sometimes I think I’m the guy on the outside looking in, like Phoebe, making up stories and inserting myself into them. What if we were all doing that? I know, some of us do just that, don’t we?
What if it was true, that the light we all see as we die is just the light we see when we’re being pushed out of our new mother’s womb? Maybe there’s something to reincarnation. Sometimes I hope so. Other times, not so much.
I would talk about my dreams to my mother sometimes, and she’d wave me off and tell me to “be realistic.” I think I assumed that “being realistic” meant living in her version of reality.
It’s a lot to think about, and it’s been keeping me awake at night sometimes. I look back at six decades of life (thank you all for the birthday wishes, by the way) and can actually see what went wrong and what I’d do if I had to do it all over again. Then I realize life isn’t like Back To The Future or Doctor Who, where you can just get into your TARDIS or put a flux capacitor onto your car and just end up in the past. It’s more like The Big Bang Theory episode when the guys bought the “time machine” prop from the 1960 movie of the same name starring Rod Taylor and Alan Young, who was playing Wilbur Post in Mr. Ed at the time.
So, yes, reality gets me down sometimes.
Hey, remember this?
I had a real lot of fun doing this. Linda Hill does Stream of Consciousness Saturday every weekend; she puts the prompt and rules on her blog and collects pingbacks from everyone who does it. Stop on by and say howdy!
from The Sound of One Hand Typing