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we humans are so hungry for answers wanting to know why, why, why, why, or how. We have to know the cause of everything and make up a story for everything. After we get something to work, we are still hungry to know why the thing works and why the cause of the things' working works. Even when we are asleep we are not asleep. We do this thing, inside our brains-a sort of mad firing-off of synapses, controoled insanity. While we're asleep. The part of the brain that records sight or sound, is firing off every hour or two while we sleep; even when the sights and sounds are complete random nonsense, our brains just keep on trying to assemble this into something sensible. We try to make a story out of this. This is complete random nonsense with no possible correlation to the real world, and yet we turn this into thes crazy stories. And when we wake up, we forget them. All that work, coming up with these stories, and when we wake up we forget almost all of them. But when we do remember, then we try to make stories about those crazy stories, trying to fit them into thier real lives. We're practicing. We're doing this all the time. Coming up with stories. Making connections. Making sense out of nonsense. We have a hunger for answers. The hunger for making sense. The hunger for stories. We make up deeds. We change what our stories mean. We transform things so that the same memory can mean a thousand different things. Even from our dreams, sometimes we make up out of that randomness something that illuminates everything. Our lives are so short, we die so fast. But in our century or so we come up with 10000 meanings for every one meaning that a non curious species would come up with. Even if the vast majority of them are wrong, even if ninety-nine of every hundred is stupid and wrong, out of ten thousand ideas that still leaves us with 100 good ones. That's how we make up for being so stupid and having such short lives and small meanings. Dreams and madness. Magic and mystery and philosophy.
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