DREAMS
by Hamza
We will read out the thought experiments at the event, so there is no need to read before you arrive. They are here so that you can read along on your phone, should you wish to :-)
DEVIN’S DREAM
Devin was struggling to finish the piece he was working on. Sat at his desk, he scanned the screen of his laptop, rereading what he'd written so far. It wasn't his best work — honestly, he wasn't even sure it was good. But as his editor had told him, it was good enough.
He turned to look out the window, and his editor was sat on the windowsill looking annoyed. "If you don't finish tonight, I'm going to fire you and burn down your house."
The suddenness of the threat jerked Devin awake. He'd fallen asleep on his laptop. He shook his mouse to wake the blank screen and reread the sentence he'd been in the middle of writing: "Turning the corner, their fear manifested itself in the form of the aswcawdawea—"
His keyboard wasn't the comfiest pillow, but at least he'd fallen asleep in his room, and not in his car or on a sofa. Another chapter and a half and he could finally sleep guilt-free. Maybe he'd even make some progress on the script he'd been workshopping for the last ten years. Although, he'd been working hard at his job for a while now, and he needed to give himself some time to recharge after all that. He tried to keep himself awake by thinking about what he might do this time to keep the burnout at bay. Maybe he'd drive up to the Lakes. Or maybe he'd go even further, and wander the Highlands. Maybe...
Young Devin: "What have you done to my hair?"
A young voice, from inside his room. Devin instinctively reached up to his receding hairline.
Devin: "You make it sound like it was a choice."
The boy didn't seem to care. He was standing behind Devin's shoulder, head still full of hair, reading the words on the laptop screen.
Young Devin: "This is drivel."
Devin: "This is rent."
Young Devin: "Rent? Wait — so we don't even own a house yet? But you're like... ancient."
Devin: (laughs) "Own a house in London? Mate, have you seen what the housing market is like?"
Devin paused, looking at the young, naive boy who seemed to have little idea how the world worked. Recognition dawned on his face.
Devin: "Oh."
Young Devin: "That's okay — I always said I wrote for the joy of it, not the money. Are we like a starving artist then, unappreciated in our time?"
Devin: "Well, not starving." (glances back at his laptop) "I have a job. Pretty steady money, really. With the house prices, it's just that... well, you'll see."
Young Devin: "So what book are we working on? It's clearly not the high-fantasy world I was planning. Did we have another cool idea?"
Devin: "Um... not quite. I'm a ghostwriter."
Young Devin: (confused) "We write ghost stories?"
Devin: "No, no. A ghostwriter. People pay me to write their content."
Young Devin: "So you just write other people's ideas? That's not being a writer."
Devin: "I mean, it most definitely..." (pauses) "Yeah. I guess not."
Young Devin: "Do we ever write our own stuff? Have you published anything I came up with?"
Devin: "Well... I've been working on the play idea you had."
Young Devin: "Working on it? So that's not finished yet? What have you even done with all this time?"
Devin thought about what to tell him, and memories started to play out in front of him. The day of his wedding, quickly ushered out by the day he signed the divorce papers. He smelled the stench of beer that had clung to him through the long nights at the bar, bleeding into the longer nights spent peering down the sterile corridors of rehab. Getting the first paycheck from his stable job, and the dinner he'd bought for every friend whose couch he'd slept on in the months before it. The stupid fight with his childhood best friend, who he hadn't spoken to since they were boys. He saw himself in a suit - a more recent memory, in brighter colours. He'd been best man, at the wedding of the one friend who'd been a rock for him through all the heartbreak and the addiction and unemployment. A friend Young Devin wouldn't meet for almost another decade.
He looked at the boy for a long moment. With a weak smile, he said:
Devin: "Not much, I suppose. I really haven't done that much at all."
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:
1. What emotion would you use to describe how Devin is feeling?
2. Was Devin's dream a nightmare?
3. Devin is judging his life against young Devin's dream — do you think he's actually given up on it?
4. How do you think Devin's friend who got married would describe Devin?
5. How much do we owe to the person we used to be?
6. Does young Devin have the authority to judge his life? Does present Devin?
7. Is giving up on your dreams cowardly or courageous?
By: Hamza, THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS IN PUBS Group Member. You can read more of his writing here.
FAITH AND GRACE
On an autumn Sunday, two friends, Grace and Faith, are casually walking on a path in the woods.
Faith: "Okay so, remember how I said I had a crazy dream last night? So what happened was I was sat there watching a play but for some reason I was in the front row, which I can obviously never afford"
Grace: "That's what dreams are for right?"
Faith: "Girl I haven't even - after this play, I started talking to the director. Who, get this, is like this super young woman about my age."
Grace: "And it turns out she was actually you the whole time?"
Faith: "No. Well, maybe… do you think that's what it means? Never mind, let me finish and then you can tell me what you think. So I'm talking to this young director and she's just so brilliant, and like I'm so excited by how she's describing her vision of the play, and suddenly I'm like wow she's so cute."
Grace: "And you definitely don't think this is a self insert"
Faith: "No listeeeeen, for some reason, I never would have the courage to do this, but for some reason I just asked her out. And she just says yes. And then we start dating. And then like time skips and we even fall in love."
Grace: "See, I told you you'd learn to love yourself."
Faith: "Okay but get this... She actually breaks up with me. She tells me that I don't know what I want. And I'm like I want you. And she says, yeah but that's not enough. So I'm like but you are enough. And she's like no Faith, I'm too much of you. This can't work."
Grace: "So you were literally rejected by the woman of your dreams."
Faith: "Omg right? Like how cooked am I?"
Grace: Giggles "Faith when did you start saying that, it's what my little sister says"
Faith: Half-laughing "This isn't funny"
Grace: “Oh my god is that a deer? Look over there, it's so cuuuuute.”
Faith: "Yes yes very cute"
Grace: "Ah yes sorry, not as cute as the woman of your dreams of course"
Faith: "I mean how much more clearly can the universe tell me that I'm going to die alone."
Grace: "That's what you took from that?"
Faith: "Grace it is so obvious. Like you know when you go ask out your crush and they're like ‘In your dreams’. Not even in my dreams Grace. Not even in my dreams."
Grace: “You get that it's just your subconscious trying to process the things you're experiencing right? And not some kind of omen of the future.”
Faith: “I think it's a message. Maybe I need to go to more plays. Ooh or maybe its what you said - maybe I need to be her before I can find her. Grace, do you think I should quit my job and become a full time writer?"
Grace: "Okay give me a second Virginia Woolf, I need to figure out where we're going... I think if we turn left here we'll come to the river and can walk along it"
Faith: "Isn't it much faster if we go right"
Grace: "Why are you in such a hurry?" Jumps over to the left path, and proclaims loudly: "Two paths diverged in the woods. And I took the one less travelled."
Faith: “Fine okaaaay, but you have to tell me what you think my dream means.”
Grace: Finishes with emphasis "And that, has made all the difference.”
Faith: "What are you even saying?"
Grace: "Aren't you the writer? It's poetry." Pauses "Faith, I think you need to stop focussing on where you're trying to get to, and pay attention to the path you're walking on in the present."
Faith: "But how can I know what path to walk on if I don't know where I'm going? Like I need to be good enough for dream director lady, so that when I do meet her in real life I am enough. I think that's what it means"
Grace: "She is your subconscious. You only need to be good enough for yourself."
Faith: "But I am! I do lots of cool and interesting things and I have so much great stuff happening in my life."
Grace: "That's great! And do you feel like you're on a path that's right for you?"
Faith: Falls quiet “I'm not sure.”
An hour later, on the train home, Faith is still thinking about the dream. She remains quite uncertain. She reflects on the conversation she had that evening, and immediately gets out her phone and sends a text message.
Faith: "Grace, I had such a good time on our walk today, it was so lovely, can we do it again next week?"
Grace: "Yes Faith, of course."
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:
Why do you think Faith's "dream woman" was a director? What do you think of the reason she gives for breaking up?
Do you agree with Faith that it's not possible to know what path to take if you don't know where you're going?
How much do you think Faith was actually listening to Grace's advice?
To what extent can we trust what our dream selves want?
Do you think Grace enjoyed the walk just as much as Faith did?
Grace's reading of Robert Frost's famous poem is a common misconception — the speaker actually admits both roads were 'really about the same,' and the idea that it mattered is a story he decides to tell himself after the fact. If Faith had known this, how do you think it might have changed how she hears Grace's advice?"
What do we owe to who we are in the present?
By: Hamza, THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS IN PUBS Group Member. You can read more of his writing here.
NOVA AND CASSIE
Nova’s been having a hard time recently. There’s just been so much going on in her life, and she feels like she isn't keeping up - just being swept along with the waves. She gets the sense that she's losing who she is, like she wakes up and doesn’t know who she sees in the mirror anymore. She’s been sharing how she’s feeling with her friend Cassie.
Cassie: That’s so much Nova, I’m so sorry. What have you been doing to try and cope?
Nova: I just find myself sleeping longer and longer to be honest. I think the only time I really feel like myself is when I’m dreaming, I kinda just have the chance to forget what’s going on and be myself. It’s got to the point where if I’m ever feeling carefree, I start to realise I must be dreaming, and the sad part is, I often am.”
Cassie: Nova, you really need to speak to someone else about this. I mean like a professional. I love you to bits but I don’t really think I’m qualified to help with this.
Nova: I know. I’m on a waitlist. But like, just talking to you is helpful cos it gives me consistency. Otherwise, I don’t even know what keeps me… well, me.
Cassie: Oh my god, you just reminded me of something crazy I read once.
Nova: What?
Cassie: Pauses, looking embarrassed I don’t think this is what you need to hear right now, tell me how’s things with your mum?
Nova: No, Cassie, no subject changes. Tell me about the crazy thing. You’re not my therapist, you don’t have a responsibility.
Cassie: I disagree about the lack of responsibility, but fine, you asked for it. It was just about this guy who didn’t know what kept his identity as himself when everything about him, like his memories, his desires, and the very cells he was made up of changed so much in life.
Nova: Relatable.
Cassie: Right… well, he eventually concluded that the only thing that stayed the same is consciousness. But the catch is, every night when we go to bed, the consciousness ends. And so he concluded that he must be dying at night, and a new person was waking up in the morning, just with a bunch of pre-formed memories of a life they had led. Like a clone.
Nova: That’s so…
Cassie: If you say relatable I’m going to punch you.
Nova: No, insane.
Cassie: Okay whew. Yeah I guess the idea was that your dream was like the light you see when you die or something, like your bodies way of processing the death and rebirth.
Nova: So then what did he do with that?
Cassie: Well, since he didn’t live to tomorrow, he figured he didn’t have to bother with any responsibilities or burdens. He may as well just spend all his money enjoying the day of life he had, and whatever problems happened were for someone else to deal with.
Nova: That's one way to see it.
Later that evening, as Nova lay in bed about to fall asleep, she started thinking about what Cassie had said. What if she really was about to die. What if this was the end of the one day of life this version of Nova had? What legacy had she left? Other than the lunch with her friend, she’d not done much more than wallow in her guilt. She jumped up out of bed, thinking she was at least going to go spend all her money on midnight ice cream or something.
Then she realised that she couldn’t spend all of the money. Not because she’d have to deal with the consequences, but because someone else would. Tomorrow. An innocent Nova through no fault of her own would have to deal with not just the cost, but the calories of three tubs of ice cream. That wasn’t a fair way to be welcomed into the world. No, it was good that she was leaving the new Nova a fair start to life. Then she realised, it wasn’t just one future Nova - there would be many, many Novas to come. How many thousands of Novas would she be willing to put into debt over a ludicrous amount of ice cream?
Nova settled back into bed, feeling like she’d actually left things fairly well for next Nova. Well, slightly better than what previous Nova had left her. Just before she went to sleep, she thought about what she wanted her last act on Earth to be. She picked her phone off her side table and sent a message to her mother, telling her how much she loved her.
***
In the morning, the new Nova woke up, pre-built with all the memories of the past. She looked at her phone and saw a text from a woman who had given birth to a baby many years ago. She wondered if that still counted as her mother. What about her friends, would she need to re-establish the friendships she would have today? Well, there was at least one person she knew she wanted to spend time with in the short life she had been given. She picked up the phone and sent a text.
Nova: “Hello Cassie of today. It is I, the Nova of today”
Cassie: “Omg Nova don’t you dare!”
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:
What do we owe to our future selves?
What is the relative value of potentially hindering the dreams of thousands of future selves, versus pursuing your current desires (for ice cream or otherwise)?
If you were being reborn each day, would it make you more reckless like the man in the story, or more cautious of the legacy you leave, like Nova?
Should Cassie have shared the story, knowing Nova’s emotional state?
What do you think keeps us “the same”, when everything about us changes?
How much of who we are is defined by the people around us, rather than by ourselves?
What do we owe the people who travel with us - to give them a place in our dreams or the freedom to follow their own?
By: Hamza, THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS IN PUBS Group Member. You can read more of his writing here.
THE AUTHOR OF TONIGHT’S THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS
As a usual suspect at TEIP, Hamza spends more time than is reasonable asking why we believe the things we believe, and being suspicious of anyone who claims to be rational.
He works in Public Health, though that's really more of an ideal than a discipline, so he mostly just thinks about whatever societal problem he feels is currently most pressing, and why it has come to be.
Often he writes about them, and on a few rare occasions, even finishes said writing. You can find more of his writing here.
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