Otherworld

What if life were not a dream? Cypher’s fantasy in The Matrix of then returning to sleep would have to be recognized precisely for what it is and we would have to take responsibility for our frivolity. Cypher makes his deal with the Agents indulging in pleasures he “knows aren’t real” that he cannot but help enjoy. Such is the nature of all enjoyment having tasted of reality. What if life were not a dream? We would be freed of the burden to will ourselves to exist … but at what cost?

The recession has taught us to mortgage our enjoyment with apologies and excuses; but this has been no new lesson to those for whom enjoyment comes at the cost of the surreptitious glance and the retreat into faceless pictures and blending in with a crowd that simultaneously constricts the opportunities for our self-expression even as it adopts those models as its own. It’s ok to have great hair but always at the risk of potential suspicion; straight football players can sing showtunes but the gay kid is still one of the girls.

The two choices come to the same: either Lady Gaga sets the standard for your extravagance or you’re just “one of the guys”. Either you’re fabulous or you’re chill. And either way we purchase a moment of anonymity and steal into the dream where everything is ok.

But what if existence were not enough—to be in the same world as music, tattoos, soccer, ATVs, and underwear—because the world rebels against justice, just as enjoyment is blind to suffering. Laughter and passion are antithetical (not that we have any trouble living in contradictions): the former requires oblivion while the latter forgets nothing even as it turns its back on existence for the future. Yet for us—we who would succumb to the temptation to exist—a future world does not need to be dreamt but demanded.