There is a persistent line of thought throughout much of philosophy from the long past well into the present which acknowledges that we remain creatures designed out of the fundamental nature of life to survive and reproduce. That humans with their immense talents accept patterns of sense input and not only store them but create patterns of patterns automatically from metaphoric abstractions into a vast intertwined jungle which strangely becomes the unsolvable puzzle we call reality.

None of our human lives matches totally with any of the others exactly although there are regions of similarities that attempt what are called common beliefs. Since our senses and internal variations of those senses, accepted and denied out of our guesses of acceptable probabilities are our only pathways to determine what actuality might be, it is not surprising that total agreements between individuals cover a very large spectrum of consternations of probabilities.

Even the most rigid attempts to create a universal agreement in this cannot defeat many doubts which remain undetermined or even, perhaps, seem undeterminable. Out of this infinitely malleable clay we fabricate, not only gods, but wild suspicions that there is purpose to this entirely mysterious automatic roll and tumble fireworks.

This dream I just experienced last night amusingly illustrated the very odd possibility that reality itself is a range of gushing possibilities which required that time itself was multidimensional and thereby permitted a huge range of varied outcomes, that might fluctuate through adjacent temporal collisions out of whim and will that nestle through our outflowing metaphors.

This wild dream let me encounter people I had never  seen before who greeted me as old friends recounting mutual incidents I never knew, let me change the color of my hair, my eyes, the numbers of my fingers or toes as the thoughts arose or passed. Possibilities bloomed or wilted in floods of amusing experiments as if I were the author of an obedient fate like a kid with a spray gun decorating the momentary opportunities of a blank white wall. Absolutes of cause and effect Jackson Pollocked through rainbows of randomed arcs of flying maybes to shatter every discipline that might assume I must obey he limited rigidities of any absolute.

It was an amazing dream that left any security of petrified realities like sparkles of shattered glass glittering in reply to a midnight full Moon.