Ahmad and I talked a lot yesterday in the print room during lunch, and at one point in time he asked me how I was coping with my...feelings lately. I told him that with the departure of hope, there has been a rather noticeable shift in focus to some other aspects of the relationship - or rather the nature of my assessment has changed, and certain things that used to be obscure are now clearer, whereas some other things that had been rather salient are now duly toned down. Contrary to what I mentioned in an earlier post, maybe love does blind after all, not in the sense of blindfolding but by inducing such narrow tunnel vision that while every detail of personality seems more prominent to the senses, it becomes harder to perceive him in relation to his surroundings and circumstances. The feelings are still there, of course, but I'm no longer trying to get rid of them so desperately. In fact I'm not even trying at all anymore. I think I have already come to terms with the fact - either fortunate or unfortunate - that it is quite impossible to forget or discard feelings for a person just like that, and if they allow me to care more by a more sincere and genuine compulsion, then why not let them be? As much as it may hurt pretty badly from time to time, it is still exciting to love in a savage world frozen in self-centered apathy, and I'm glad I still have it in me after all these years.

  Right. So that aside, I've also been wondering recently about the way logic (as we know it) flows in the realm of dreams, if there is any logic present to talk about at all. Perhaps what makes it so hard for many to remember their dreams is the lack of a familiar grid of logic with which one can register, digest and comprehend events and things; in dreams, everything happens so spontaneously in such haphazard ways that it becomes impossible to consciously analyse every stage of the sequence such that one may understand the entire event as a whole. Yet the strangest thing is the fact that often a time we seem to be able to know what's going on in the dream itself, even if it comes to us as a jumble of utter rubbish in waking life. What makes us view extraordinary things as perfectly reasonable in the dream itself? What makes our mind flip a switch in those hours and immerse in an entirely deviant form of logic (or lack thereof)?

  It makes me think about knowledge and existence, about all those metaphysical things that people are so strongly convinced to explain with the rigid system of logic, or more specifically our logic, though I don't deny that in our current position there is probably no other way. If the mind can function in a dimension where familiar symbols of real life (objects, people, subjects that found our conception of reality etc.) are linked by a thread of logic, in the context of the existence of a mode of thinking or medium of thought that does not necessarily pertain to the foundations of our reality, then does it become meaningless to adhere to our established logical system in pursuit of explanations for everything? And at the end of the day, what exactly is it we're trying to explain at all? What is reality altogether? Is it a definite and fixed state of things, or is it just a fluid, dynamic state that constantly shifts and morphs to correspond with our mode of thought?

  It is interesting, though, that even though we may be able to follow everything perfectly well in the dream itself, most of the time we are not conscious of our actions and thoughts (and on that note, can there be unconscious thought?). The only known way people can control themselves in a dream is through a state of lucidity in which they know that they are dreaming, that the sensory input they are receiving is not what really is, and when the logic of our reality is interjected into the indefinite realm of dreamscape. What accounts for that passivity? Why can't we control what we understand? Maybe it's because this "understanding" in dreams is a rather momentary thing, as most of the time we only understand what is happening at the present moment, and the lack of the notion of past and future, the two other fundamental components of linear time, makes it impossible for us to fully internalise what has happened and forge plans for the future. Does that mean that our consciousness is bounded by linear time? Can we function at all without time?

  Then again, how do we explain dreams whose contexts closely relate to that of real life? Dreams of exams, for example, or of an appointment with a friend, a sports game, a hiking trip, ordinary and mundane activities that comprise only acts that are physically perfectly accomplishable. Some dreams are accompanied by a sense of purpose, or an awareness of a certain mission that you start out to complete. In such dreams we know what exactly it is we have to do, such as arriving on time for a Chemistry SPA exam at Lab 8, which is necessarily preceded by the notion of a past where we gained that piece of information, and with the purpose to pass the exam, which requires the prospect of a future in which we expect to receive the results of the test. Furthermore, this is often compounded by the growing complexity of the situation; perhaps we break a test tube, and we even know who to contact, how to correctly dispose of the broken glass, and where we should leave our names such that we may pay the school fifty cents some other day. So what is it that renders us incapable of control over a perfectly logical and comprehensive event like this? Why is it that thought in dreams seems to be fed to us by some alien hand, and not consciously generated from our own minds?

  Does reality then compose of events, things and subjects over which we can exert conscious thought? And if that is the case, do dreams become reality for lucid dreamers? Many would not hesitate to dismiss such a proposition. So what is reality? Must we resign to the acknowledgement of an omnipresent state of things that births the idea of "truth"? Can this state be stripped of definitive qualities, like a barren plate bereft of any descriptive detail, left to be moulded by passing impressions and is thus ever-changing? But what constitutes a state, then, if there is no definition at all? What makes it different from other states? What makes reality different from other states? What makes the state of being existent different from the state of nothingness?

  Okay, too many questions, I've got to stop before I lose myself in all these mysteries. Time to do some proper work, woot.