Everyone says the same thing, "THIS is real, right now, this. This is reality. I'm real, you're real." But how do they know for sure? How can I be certain? It all can just be a byproduct of my mind trying to cope with the physics of a dream world. Am I dreaming right now? The last thing I remember is dying. I died. I know I did. At least I think I did. Did I? So how can this be? How can I be? This all could be Memory so vividly dancing among the existential rhythms and waves of recollection. Some kind of simulation for my senses until that last bit of entropy finally flickers out and this memory becomes faded. Until it too just becomes darkness fading out into echoic whispers engulfed into an infinite black. Just a blip into the unremembered. Yet still, Everyone says the same thing. This is real. This right now.
