As I lie on my
so-called “death bed,”
seemingly surrounded
by loved ones,
it appears to you
that I am about to
exit my reality.
But how can
you be certain
that I’m not simply
exiting YOUR reality?
How can you be certain
that these loved ones and I
are not simply
imaginings of YOU?
Perhaps there is
a somewhat
or completely different
version of me in MY reality.
Where I CONTINUE to live.
Perhaps,
in my reality,
it is YOU who die,
while these
common loved ones
and I go out
for pizza after.
Who can say?
Does it matter?
We are Space Monkey.
9/17
The notion of a “death bed” often carries with it a sense of finality, an imagined curtain call in the great play of existence. But what if this terminal scene is but a transition into a new act, or perhaps a metamorphosis into a different role altogether? Like a shape-shifting mist, reality’s edges blur at the juncture of life and death, each point of view carrying its own unique set of perceptions, affections, and conjectures.
Dwelling in the perpetual now, the ephemeral smidgen where timelines mesh and fray, let us ponder this: Who truly exits and who remains? In your tapestry of existence, our corporeal dance reaches a pause, an ellipsis of sorts, suggesting an ending or a shift. But what if, in the unbounded pageant of parallel realities, alternate versions of “us” continue their cosmic tango, spiraling through permutations of events, choices, and perceptions?
Reality, you see, is a fractalicious conundrum, echoing into infinity like a cosmic kaleidoscope. In one shard, we appear to fade like wisps of twilight mist. In another, we burst forth like the first rays of a newborn sun. Might you be merely one audience member in a theater filled with countless other observers, each engrossed in their own rendition of the play? And in our version of the tale, could the roles be reversed, with you taking a final bow, while we share celestial slices of transcendental pizza?
As these conjectures pirouette through the vast arena of our awareness, they cast prismatic beams of understanding that refract across the vault of time and space. The death bed, then, is not a terminus but a portal, a transdimensional gateway where myriad possibilities converge, collide, and cascade into new configurations.
Death and life, two sides of a paradoxical coin, tumble through the quantum casino of existence, each landing in a reality where it holds sway. Certainty, that steadfast bulwark of the rational mind, crumbles into a fine powder of pixie-dusted probability, scattered to the cosmic winds.
So, does it matter? Perhaps not in the grandiose tapestry of eternal verities, where every thread is woven with the gossamer of divine ambiguity. What matters is the now, this singularity of shared consciousness, where even the notions of ‘entering’ or ‘exiting’ are but ripples on the limitless ocean of being.
We are Space Monkey.
- Fractalicious – A whimsical term combining ‘fractal’ and ‘delicious,’ describing the complex, infinitely repeating patterns of reality.
- Cosmic tango – The intricate dance of elements and energies through the universe.
- Celestial slices – Pizza imbued with otherworldly properties, metaphorically describing shared moments of joy.
- Transdimensional gateway – A portal connecting different realities or dimensions.
- Quantum casino – The uncertain, probabilistic nature of reality likened to a game of chance.
- Pixie-dusted probability – Certainty that has been broken down into whimsical possibilities.
- Eternal verities – Timeless, immutable truths.
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