![]() She’s moving to London soon, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I call her 冰后, a rough translation of Ice Empress, which aptly captures her elegance and demeanor. She’s a banker that actually cares (and she’s careful to hide it). I return to my own senses and consciousness, closing my eyes to join her. ![]() Still sleepy, she stirs in the bed before beginning a new sleep cycle. She telegraphs a prayer, and it answers with a knowing smile.Īfter a few moments, her REM cycle transitions out. My dream character ceases to exist, and she summons herself to the top of the temple, face to face with an immense, hyper-realistic statue. Ever competitive and realizing that the real me is along for the ride, she takes the opportunity to give evidence that her god is real. She grabs back onto consciousness with firmer intent. I find her fading back into non-lucidity, so I remind her again: The coil of string keeps unraveling and unraveling, with colours spilling everywhere. She’s distracted by a hanging string made of colours that don’t exist in the real world. She looks around in wonder the dreamscape is enthralling. Her dream becomes lucid - she is now aware that she is dreaming. Her consciousness lights up with the realization. The magic of dreaming makes it seem like my character has retroactively spoken in her soundless dream: I generate activity in her brain’s post-linguistic processing centers. She doesn’t notice that the rest of the dream world ceases to exist. I look happy to see her, and she’s elated to see me. She recognizes me, giving life to my doppelganger and taking hold of her attention. ![]() I act quickly: with some small changes to her brain’s physical state, I place my resemblance on the figure. There’s someone standing ahead, starkly still and unidentifiable. People are brushing past her as she climbs her way to the statue of her god. She’s walking with purpose, hammering up the temple steps in heels. The dream she’s having is mostly visual and haptic, so my senses of smell and sound wash away to emptiness. I slowly begin to feel her dream-generated sensations, watching the dream from her mind’s eye. I relax into a state of pure observation, commanding my body’s sensory inputs to fade away so that I may experience hers, meditatively resting my active consciousness in order to observe hers. I request her detailed brain state and see that she’s started REM sleep. It’s slow progress, but I’m lucky to have found her as early as I did - I only have 742,436,803 seconds left to experience, digestible in a fraction of that time. Whenever we catch up on each other’s day, I take a few extra minutes to review a little bit more of her past. Since our first date not too many months ago, I’ve relived the recordings of most of her life’s major events: family turbulence, risky career decisions, former relationships and still, I’m a far cry from knowing her as well as I know myself. I’ve been reliving and reinterpreting my formative life experiences ever since I was old enough to learn how to. There are 813,457,106 seconds on record of me, but I know me. ![]() It’s been just over 24 years since her body achieved consciousness, 757,383,396 seconds of thoughts recorded and every change in the state of her being publicly accessible. ![]()
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