Darkness encloses everything, its ebony cloak casting shadows that conceal details. The air tastes stale and warm. The screen of a laptop computer casts a dim pallor upon the bare walls of the demesnes, but the glow is only enough to see the screen and sides, nothing else. Six bare walls form an impenetrable barrier on all sides, keeping the old air inside and the world out. Voices and other sounds are severely muted, coming from the other side of the confines. Is this what it’s like to be blind, held hostage inside darkness with nothing but memories and an imagination to entertain? Desolate, depressing feelings vie for attention but are ignored. The long sought-after solitary has finally been achieved. At last, the mind has the ability to focus on the more obscure and enigmatic concepts of Life, the Universe, and everything.

The dark grey laptop sits open and inviting, balanced on crossed legs. The screen casts a comforting glow, its light like a beacon in the darkness. The white light shines as bright as the full moon at night. Just the thought of words appearing on the screen seems to diminish the loneliness and fear that had begun to surface. The letters on the keys reflect the light like little stars. Musing about how the idea of moonlight and stars never fails to lift spirits, the glow from the computer seems to brighten and the darkness monopolizing the rest of the area shrinks back.

As of this moment, the world does not exist in this realm of thinking. Until one decides to exit the realm and face what others term “reality”, or Reality loses its patience and breaks into this area, reality is only an idea that had been thought up to amuse long ago. Time stands still, if indeed there is such a thing as time. With no clock or sunlight to distinguish hour from hour or day from night, there is no use for the concept of time and one can choose to believe that such a concept cannot possible exist. It is only when one is able to concentrate fully on themselves without any interference that a mind can begin to wander around such topics.

Inside these limitations, a mind can be set free without restraint. Vague thoughts and ideas that could not be pondered without the interruptions from the outside world are now free to be contemplated at leisure. Elusive and indefinable notions must be reflected upon, for without them, what certainties does humanity have as a culture that they are not merely machines that go about their daily lives? In the words of Douglas Adams, “How can I tell that the past isn’t a fiction designed to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mind?” There is no proof that the memories evoked are not fantasies that were designed while sitting in this darkness. All truth is based on assumptions, which cannot be proven beyond all doubt, and therefore the strongest foundation of thought can crumble without warning. What if this is all there is, and everything else that one thinks they know is all an illusion? This line of thinking can become disturbing if one dwells on it too long. It can be uncomfortable realizing that there is not a single mental handhold to base coherent thought upon.

Perhaps all memories are real, and my previous ponderings are ludicrous. If memories can be trusted, then the substance forming a barrier on six sides can be explained away as a cardboard container that was designed to carry a conventional oven. There is pleasure in the irony that one can literally think inside a box while figuratively thinking outside of one.

~end~