RobinDenstro
The Overseer
Look at your hand. It's on your arm, right? Now, good sir (or ma'am, depending on your gender), explain to me how you know your hand exists.
What's to say that your hand isn't simply a figment of your imagination? Heck, that everyone around you isn't simply a figment of your imagination? And you have such a deep belief that they exist that you can't... well, not believe they exist.
Physiologically speaking, our brain is designed to relay information from the outside world into our personal understanding of everything around us. In reality, every person you ever meet might appear differently to another person. We all might think one person is beautiful, but all of our imaginings of said person could easily all be different. Everyone might define the color "red" as being hot, warm, and bright, possibly signifying victory, blood, or war, but whats to say that red is actually... red?
What if red looks differently to someone else? What if the color red, to another person, is warm, and hot, and bright, and signifies things such as winning and blood. But what if their red, to us, is our blue? What's to say that it isn't? They might think blue is hot, and that red is cool. They might live in a world that's a photo-negative of yours, and you would never know it. Because what you call red, just so happens to be what they call red, too.
This brings us back to my original point. The fact that everyone you see could simply be a figment of your imagination. Like a dream, almost. Your brain creates a series of images, places, people, and so forth, and you simply believe it to be true.
Even better: you know how by the time you wake up from a dream, about ten or so minutes after you awaken, you forget most of your dream? Heck, give it an hour, and you'll hardly remember a thing about it? What if the same was reversed? What if, in our dreams, we're told that it's reality? That we live separate lives that we simply can never remember, that we pawn off as dreams?
Lets get even spookier. Memories, by themselves, are just a collection of connections within our brain that exists as a physical representation of what we remember. And, if we sit and think long enough, we can remember things such as our first kiss, our first love, our first video game, the last thing we ate, and so on. But what's to say we ever did any of those things. For all we know, some benevolent God could have simply created the entire universe five seconds ago, and everything you've ever done was created by him (or her, I'm not here to discriminate), and our memories were miraculously created and placed in your brain so that everything flowed together. That first kiss? Never happened. The other person you kissed remembers it because she was equally created with said memories. This God is good. (Though possibly not without mistakes. What's to say that some people we see were simply given the wrong memories at the wrong time, and so we constitute them as "insane?" For all we know, they could be as equally as moral as we are)
Even better, what's to say you ever read any of this? How can you prove that you weren't just spawned right now, and that all you remember about reading this are simply memories this God (or the Universe, or Science, or what-have-you) plugged into your brain upon your creation just now.
Anyone that can prove me wrong gets a cookie-cake and a pat on the back.
What's to say that your hand isn't simply a figment of your imagination? Heck, that everyone around you isn't simply a figment of your imagination? And you have such a deep belief that they exist that you can't... well, not believe they exist.
Physiologically speaking, our brain is designed to relay information from the outside world into our personal understanding of everything around us. In reality, every person you ever meet might appear differently to another person. We all might think one person is beautiful, but all of our imaginings of said person could easily all be different. Everyone might define the color "red" as being hot, warm, and bright, possibly signifying victory, blood, or war, but whats to say that red is actually... red?
What if red looks differently to someone else? What if the color red, to another person, is warm, and hot, and bright, and signifies things such as winning and blood. But what if their red, to us, is our blue? What's to say that it isn't? They might think blue is hot, and that red is cool. They might live in a world that's a photo-negative of yours, and you would never know it. Because what you call red, just so happens to be what they call red, too.
This brings us back to my original point. The fact that everyone you see could simply be a figment of your imagination. Like a dream, almost. Your brain creates a series of images, places, people, and so forth, and you simply believe it to be true.
Even better: you know how by the time you wake up from a dream, about ten or so minutes after you awaken, you forget most of your dream? Heck, give it an hour, and you'll hardly remember a thing about it? What if the same was reversed? What if, in our dreams, we're told that it's reality? That we live separate lives that we simply can never remember, that we pawn off as dreams?
Lets get even spookier. Memories, by themselves, are just a collection of connections within our brain that exists as a physical representation of what we remember. And, if we sit and think long enough, we can remember things such as our first kiss, our first love, our first video game, the last thing we ate, and so on. But what's to say we ever did any of those things. For all we know, some benevolent God could have simply created the entire universe five seconds ago, and everything you've ever done was created by him (or her, I'm not here to discriminate), and our memories were miraculously created and placed in your brain so that everything flowed together. That first kiss? Never happened. The other person you kissed remembers it because she was equally created with said memories. This God is good. (Though possibly not without mistakes. What's to say that some people we see were simply given the wrong memories at the wrong time, and so we constitute them as "insane?" For all we know, they could be as equally as moral as we are)
Even better, what's to say you ever read any of this? How can you prove that you weren't just spawned right now, and that all you remember about reading this are simply memories this God (or the Universe, or Science, or what-have-you) plugged into your brain upon your creation just now.
Anyone that can prove me wrong gets a cookie-cake and a pat on the back.