In a nighttime dream, you believe yourself to be a character wandering around as an isolated subject in a fundamentally external and threatening world. The only way to see through this illusion is to become lucid, at which point you discover that the whole of "reality" -- all the sights, sounds, textures, etc. that constitute the dream -- are made of the light of your own mind. Not "you" as in the character, but you as in the dreamer -- a being that exists beyond the confines of the dream.
With increased lucidity, you discover that you do not occupy a position sitting behind the character's eyes, observing all this light. Instead, you are the light. "You" are distributed throughout the entirety of the apparent reality. And with still further awakening, you discover that the storyline of the dream is not something happening to you (perpetrated by your subconscious mind), but instead something you are actively doing. You weave yourself into a fantastical adventure and then embed yourself in it as an apparently localized, isolated subject.
Once you see this clearly, there can be no doubt. You are free to weave and re-weave realities as you see fit; to lose yourself in them for arbitrarily long periods of "time" (another devious invention of your making, not necessarily present in all dreams); to generate apparently external beings who ruthlessly mock you for questioning reality; to rediscover the truth (it's infinitely delightful every. single. time.); and to rinse, lather, and repeat to your heart's content.
By now you may have suspected that what I'm saying applies not only to nighttime dreams, but to your present one as well. Just as you would at night, you find this idea to be utterly preposterous; not even worth a second thought. You will devise comically useless tests to "prove" that it's false. Look how internally consistent this place is! Look at all the external evidence! I'm not clever enough to invent this place! Well, your character certainly isn't, but You are.
If you really want to become lucid, you will have to dig really deep, and not turn tail at the first sign of difficulty. You will have to ignore all the warning signs: "Do Not Enter! Nothing to see here! Don't be ridiculous! The scientists would have found this out already! Sciiiieeeence!"
So how do you do it? How do you become lucid? That's too big a topic to cover in one post, but here are some hints.
First you must understand, intellectually, that many radically skeptical hypotheses are not meaningfully unlikely. If you try to prove that it is "unlikely" that this is a dream, you will find yourself presupposing that it is not, in one sneaky way or another. This is circular reasoning, and utterly bogus. Similarly: did the world suddenly pop into being one moment ago, or is the past real? Any way you try to establish a real past, you will find yourself subtly assuming one: "we know (from past experience) that the world just doesn't work that way!" If you find yourself resisting this point, sit down and look more carefully and honestly. Philosophers discard these hypotheses not because they are unlikely, but because they are (apparently) useless.
Once you understand that, recognize your extreme reluctance to genuinely consider the conclusions they suggest. "Fine, I cannot prove that a real past is more likely, but I know deep down that it is, dammit! I can feel it!" While belief in a real past may be useful for practical reasons, you go further and take it 100% literally. Just as in a nighttime dream, this utter (unfounded) certainty is what kills any chance of becoming lucid.
The next step is to understand, intellectually, that the world around you is made of your own mind. You can accept this even as a materialist, by substituting "my own mind" with "my own neurons firing." Every sight you see, every sound you hear, every thought you think, is your own mind, illuminated. Just listen: what else could that experience be than your own mind?
Once you understand that your experienced world is made of your own mind, your mind will immediately follow it up with "but obviously there's a real world out there, causing it." This is the crucial moment. It is not obvious, and purely rationally speaking, it is not even likely. If you can grok the fact that the apparent world is your own mind, and simultaneously grok that there is no reason to take the standard explanation literally, then there is the possibility of becoming lucid. In Eastern traditions, this is known as awakening. It is simple, but it is not easy.
Now you might wonder: if the Buddha was lucid, why wasn't he flying around with superpowers and such? And now for the punchline: this is your dream. The Buddha is an idea you planted to remind yourself how to wake up. Instead of waiting for "others" to wake up and prove it to you, why not do it yourself?
Sometimes you get the sense that life is magical or miraculous. You generally squash this idea as irrational, but it's closer to the truth than you know. The Light that constitutes your dream comes from beyond it, and in a sense, the whole point of the dream is to awaken to this fact.
With increased lucidity, you discover that you do not occupy a position sitting behind the character's eyes, observing all this light. Instead, you are the light. "You" are distributed throughout the entirety of the apparent reality. And with still further awakening, you discover that the storyline of the dream is not something happening to you (perpetrated by your subconscious mind), but instead something you are actively doing. You weave yourself into a fantastical adventure and then embed yourself in it as an apparently localized, isolated subject.
Once you see this clearly, there can be no doubt. You are free to weave and re-weave realities as you see fit; to lose yourself in them for arbitrarily long periods of "time" (another devious invention of your making, not necessarily present in all dreams); to generate apparently external beings who ruthlessly mock you for questioning reality; to rediscover the truth (it's infinitely delightful every. single. time.); and to rinse, lather, and repeat to your heart's content.
By now you may have suspected that what I'm saying applies not only to nighttime dreams, but to your present one as well. Just as you would at night, you find this idea to be utterly preposterous; not even worth a second thought. You will devise comically useless tests to "prove" that it's false. Look how internally consistent this place is! Look at all the external evidence! I'm not clever enough to invent this place! Well, your character certainly isn't, but You are.
If you really want to become lucid, you will have to dig really deep, and not turn tail at the first sign of difficulty. You will have to ignore all the warning signs: "Do Not Enter! Nothing to see here! Don't be ridiculous! The scientists would have found this out already! Sciiiieeeence!"
So how do you do it? How do you become lucid? That's too big a topic to cover in one post, but here are some hints.
First you must understand, intellectually, that many radically skeptical hypotheses are not meaningfully unlikely. If you try to prove that it is "unlikely" that this is a dream, you will find yourself presupposing that it is not, in one sneaky way or another. This is circular reasoning, and utterly bogus. Similarly: did the world suddenly pop into being one moment ago, or is the past real? Any way you try to establish a real past, you will find yourself subtly assuming one: "we know (from past experience) that the world just doesn't work that way!" If you find yourself resisting this point, sit down and look more carefully and honestly. Philosophers discard these hypotheses not because they are unlikely, but because they are (apparently) useless.
Once you understand that, recognize your extreme reluctance to genuinely consider the conclusions they suggest. "Fine, I cannot prove that a real past is more likely, but I know deep down that it is, dammit! I can feel it!" While belief in a real past may be useful for practical reasons, you go further and take it 100% literally. Just as in a nighttime dream, this utter (unfounded) certainty is what kills any chance of becoming lucid.
The next step is to understand, intellectually, that the world around you is made of your own mind. You can accept this even as a materialist, by substituting "my own mind" with "my own neurons firing." Every sight you see, every sound you hear, every thought you think, is your own mind, illuminated. Just listen: what else could that experience be than your own mind?
Once you understand that your experienced world is made of your own mind, your mind will immediately follow it up with "but obviously there's a real world out there, causing it." This is the crucial moment. It is not obvious, and purely rationally speaking, it is not even likely. If you can grok the fact that the apparent world is your own mind, and simultaneously grok that there is no reason to take the standard explanation literally, then there is the possibility of becoming lucid. In Eastern traditions, this is known as awakening. It is simple, but it is not easy.
Now you might wonder: if the Buddha was lucid, why wasn't he flying around with superpowers and such? And now for the punchline: this is your dream. The Buddha is an idea you planted to remind yourself how to wake up. Instead of waiting for "others" to wake up and prove it to you, why not do it yourself?
---
Sometimes you get the sense that life is magical or miraculous. You generally squash this idea as irrational, but it's closer to the truth than you know. The Light that constitutes your dream comes from beyond it, and in a sense, the whole point of the dream is to awaken to this fact.
So close you can't see it
So deep you can't fathom it
So simple you can't believe it
So good you can't accept it
-- Tibetan Buddhist saying
