As he was hacking his way through the inner jungle one explorer thought:
“If a man truly had a good-plan – he wouldn’t even need to press on.”
Aka: If the first page of a book knew the conclusion  –
the work wouldn’t have to be written.
And at an even more advanced position, known as:
If you understood what being-sleep is from the outset – you wouldn’t have to work to awaken.
    (“After all my years of effort, hearing this really peps me up.”)

To be human is to be a storyteller;
to be-asleep is to take the stories you hear seriously;
to be dangerously asleep is to take seriously the ones you tell.
 
 
 
 

A voice in one man’s head said: “Nobody calls me a moron while I'm around!
Hello?  Hello?  Am I the only one around?”
 
 
 
 

Nothing is quite as enjoyable to cows, sheep puppets and parasites
as hearing their selves talked about.    (Especially hearing their name spoken.)
 
 
 
 

Conversation.
“What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
   “So-called scientists studying dreams.”
 
 
 
 

What other of a man’s possessions does his natural-born-mind most resemble?
His dirty underwear.
   (“Son, I've told you not to pick up hitchhikers.”)
 
 
 
 

Marionettes endlessly quote one another  --
as opposed to saying something themselves –
but, hey!  –  what else are they going to do!?
 
 
 
 

As some sort of seeming wrap-up, one man recently had this appear in his mind:
“What if (other than for our bodies and the physical universe) words are responsible
for everything?!         Would that not explode every question man has ever had!?”
 
 
 
 

Another Distinction.
Ordinary men enjoy picturing their myths as though they were events that
actually happened;
the certain-man doesn’t.
 
 
 
 

One chap says: “It’s kinda neat hearing that god has a plan for my life,
but what’s even sweeter is that it’s known only to my minister  --  and not to me!”
 
 
 
 

Two gangster families predominate the neural underworld:
one which strives for the most good, and the other which seeks the least ill;
by these twin forces are all the rackets run.
 
 
 
 

“Though I am pleased to have learned,” observes a chap,
“that the world is big enough to hold everyone,
my supreme delight is in knowing that I am large enough for all my me’s.”
From a routine view, sanity could be defined as: Not having an “I” left over.
  (Only harence clenry and the certain-man’s thinking ain't got no home.)
 
 
 
 

For a better grip on how things work, one guy’s tip is:
When you hear the word “opposite,” think “collaborator.”
 
 

One who can see far, far away might be able to draw a map covering time, not space;
and one truly, truly anxious for an extraordinary excursion might be able to
chemically translate such a map into motion.
 
 

On one world, one man always ends his daily show by saying:
“Be sure to tune in again tomorrow,” which is a waste of energy since he is the only one who can hear his broadcast  (plus his planet doesn’t have a tomorrow).
Cosmological Editor’s Footnote.
There is a striking parity extant in this universe, but most folks aren't attracted by enough to even stop for a moment and tell it “Howdy.”
Routine minds love storytelling –  as long as it doesn’t venture too close to reality.
    (“Hey! – I wouldn’t be reading fiction if I was interested in physics.”)
 
 
 
 

The few need not fret about finding a good spot to watch the parade,
for the triumphant army’s route goes right through them.
 
 
 
 

Everyone’s mind produces the sensation of “me” --
it also registers the impression of all that is “not-me” --
and yet they both meet in the neural sensation of “me.”
Query yourself: How can a measurement you obtained also be the measuring device from which you derived it?
   (You might care to know that not one man in a million will pursue such a ponder.)
 
 
 
 

Ordinary minds, and those in need of viagra, love to imagine that mortal giants once walked the earth who had abilities beyond the grasp of contemporary man:
this is dream-whipped-cream spread atop a dream-sundae.