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094: The Dreams of Consciousness

"Dreams are imperfections of sleep; even so is consciousness the imperfection of waking. Dreams are imperfections in the circulation of the blood; even so is consciousness a disorder of life."

We are strange monkeys in that we can dream, we can confuse reality with an imagined reality which we entirely construct. There is the age-old Zen-like paradox: is our reality but the dream existence of a slumbering god? Are we but imperfect phantoms made real by the hyperactive imagination of a child deity? Are we the molecules -- combining, dividing, splitting and coming together -- of someone's big toe? Hard to say. Hard to say.

But the dreaming bit. There is no doubt that the function of dream/consciousness -- call it the biochemical awareness and continued percolation of our brains -- is not entirely under the control of our active Id. There's about six people arranged near me on the train right now who are all sleeping. These are twenty minute cat naps on the way to Seattle and they aren't long enough to really engage in deep dream states, but even in their hypnagogic states, their brains are still working. They don't just shut off, reducing activity to a very primal state -- basic survival functions only, thank you -- the mind continues to process, store and collate the data streams.

They -- that elusive "Them" -- always say: You can achieve your dreams. Is this a functional statement that we can shape reality? If I dream that all dogs are blue and shit candy corn, would it become true? Probably not. So, is the "achievement of dreams" a conditional statement? Can I achieve only those things which the remainder of the waking and conscious world agrees upon? Are the limitations of my dreaming existence predicated by the consensual reality we all have created?

If we all became enlightened tomorrow, we would all cease to exist. We would become the Dreaming God and reality would be whatever we imagined.

The cults then -- the hive-mind organizations who have come together because of a shared focus and direction -- want to be the dominant voice in the Dreaming God's head. They want to be the ones who actively direct the formation and realization of reality. They want their reality, made firm and flesh through the collective power of all of our dreaming minds. They don't want our contribution. They just aren't interested in blue dogs that crap candy corn.

Posted by Teppo at 06:57 AM | Comments (0) July 19, 2004

093: When In Doubt, Insert Explosion

Not much work on the novel last week. I had a weekend getaway where I managed to spank out nearly 7000 words recently, pushing me well into Chapter XXII. The first third is wrapping up: the mystery is fairly well exposed, our brave adventurers have discovered the first key clue which will aid them on their quest, and a couple of things have been blown up. All in a day's work.

It's still strange to come and go with this book. The events of the book start on a Friday and it's now just Tuesday for them while I've seen almost a hundred Tuesdays since I started. I think they're ready for Wednesday -- hump day -- which, now that I write it, is almost like the peak of the book. It's like the chaos of the work week: we don't know what the hell we're doing until Wednesday when we suddenly chill and remember how to do this and the rest of the week is an accelerating slide towards the weekend.

No? Must just be the way my week runs, then.

Anyway, the first third is wrapping up. It's probably not an literal third; I imagine the last part will be shorter and tighter. The first part of the book is the hook where you set the metal barbs in the reader deep enough that they can't wriggle out. It's all mysterious and exciting and thrilling so far, but now -- yes, now -- we're going to sit down and talk. And we're going to talk about deep subjects, topics you've never wanted to face before because their very existence frightens you. This is the section where the author takes his liberties and gets out his soapbox and, at least in the Apocalpytic Thriller, tells you why the end of the world is nigh.

Or maybe more shit will blow up. Joel Silver's entire contribution to the action film will be remembered as: when you think the audience's attention is starting to flag, something must explode. You can always tell how bad the script is by how often things -- in a very non-sequitor stream of consciousness sort of way -- explode.

I've got some history to invent. We're going back to WWII in this next bit when Liz and Markham learn about what it was that Grandpa Maratre was doing during the war and what he heard that so freaked him out for the rest of his life. We're going to get our first glimpse of the Cabinet Noir and all the idle bits of research that I've been doing over the last two years are going to start to come together. Ah, that's always a nice feeling.

And then, rest assured, things will start exploding again.

Posted by Teppo at 07:52 AM | Comments (0) July 13, 2004

092: The Failure of Family Trees

I need a diagram for my family tree. I'm getting fathers and grandfathers confused. Usually the characters grow to populate a good deal of the active part of your head when you're working on a book, but I've been addled enough and distracted enough that they only occupy a tiny corner of my brain. In that corner, family trees are getting muddled. A key element of Grandpa's notebook hinges on a date that just doesn't work because Jack's Mom is Grandpa's daughter and not his wife. This isn't the Appalachian backwoods so there isn't any convoluted inter-marriage of families going on here. This is straight forward middle class breeding.

Even if Grandpa loves his daughter very much, he wouldn't base his crypto key on the day they met. And, if he does base it on the day he and his wife met, then it is possible he never told his daughter. Shit. It was all so simple yesterday.

I need a better key. I also need to consider if I'm making this too complicated. Grandpa's security on his notebook has to be simple enough that he can parse it in his head (it helps that he's a whiz at these sorts of things), but complicated enough that, without the key, it's difficult and pointless to try. Sort of a homemade version of a one time pad. The notebook is the MANUSCRIPT and it holds the key to deciphering the mysterious transmissions which have gotten everyone in an uproar. But it isn't just a written document; it has to be coded so that only the proper chaps can get to it. The bad guys took Grandpa away a long time ago. They never got the notebook.

So does it have to be coded? If it was hidden, isn't that enough?

Would Grandpa think it was enough?

Posted by Teppo at 08:08 AM | Comments (0) July 07, 2004

091: The Manuscript That Kills

In the Apocalyptic Thriller, there is a MANUSCRIPT. I was off doing some research about the Necronomicon and realized that it, and the others like it, serve a very important function in the Apocalyptic Thriller: they are both the device which warns of impending doom as well as the means by which doom is unleashed upon the world. Convenient that. Invariably the MANUSCRIPT drives the reader mad or, at the very least, allows demons to enter this dimension who, in turn, eat the brain of the reader.

Same result, essentially, just differing special effects budgets.

The MANUSCRIPT is the last gasp effort of the good guys to not die in vain; it is their attempt to leave a record of what they learned so that the next generation won't make the same mistake. The villains win if they destroy every record which counters their version of history and, because we can't stand the idea that evil really truly does win, we always provide for a way that the heroes can pass on their wisdom to the next generation. This is the OLD MAN's last will and testament, kids, one last note about the demonic forces massing beyond this purple barrier that has been kept intact by his persistent will for the last fifty years.

Why they always write the words you shouldn't read aloud in the frontspiece before the warning label that says, "Do not, under pain of terrible and awful death, read any of this text out loud" is just part of the way stories are written. You know, it's the first law: THINGS GET WORSE.

I'll readily admit that I have a fascination with manuscripts. Not that you could tell by the way I traffic for things at chain used bookstores. Hoping I'll find a gem that won't cost me an arm or a leg, I suppose. I don't even really know what I would do if a real MANUSCRIPT fell in my lap. (Well, other than reading it out loud, I suppose.) I still get a kick out of how Sam Raimi pulled off the old manuscript trick in Evil Dead II: he had the old scientist record himself reading from it as part of his field notes. So, when our young demon fodder show up and wonder where everyone is, someone -- without fail -- has to say, "Hey? What's this recorder? I wonder what is on it."

I suppose manuscripts are the lure of the modern occultist. It's hard to find a real Master in this day and age to learn from the knee of. You have to find your way through books. And, because Master isn't there to correct your pronouciation or remind you to close the pentagram before you get started, we do what all eager youngsters do with a new toy: we play with it immediately and read the instructions later.

Posted by Teppo at 11:18 PM | Comments (0)