Sanity is forgetting, insanity is remembering.

Normative ego consciousness has the character of a dream, we are in some sense always sleeping. Formed within a womb, we have emerged into another kind of womb, surrounded on all sides by black seas of infinity. Some unreal cosmic waiting room. Perhaps it is only a limited kind of consciousness produced by the brain that I am here describing, or perhaps it is the cosmos too, with its boundless void of hard vacuum.

Truth is a voice shouting for us to wake.


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