Date: 2026-11-04
Time: 4:57 am
I just woke up from a strange dream. I forget a lot of the dream, however I remember the parts of the dream from just before I woke up. I remember that I went to some kind of art show. I cannot remember what kind of art it was, however I remember being in an audience and watching something on a stage. When I showed up at the show, for some reason someone gave me a big pile of coupons for a pizza place. I accepted the coupons and then watched the art show.
After the art show was over, I started taking photos of the audience. I had noticed that there were famous people in the audience and I wanted to record who was there. I took a series of photos, one at a time, going across the audience, in order to generally capture photos of who was there without focusing on any individual person. After that, I walked up to a group of people. One of the people, who for some reason I suspected had some relation to the people who ran the pizza place, asked me for my pizza coupons. At first I started to hand them over, however I suspected that the person was misleading me and that I was not supposed to do that, so I kept them, and instead told the person who asked for them that I wanted to hang out with people after the show. He told me that was fine and I could hang out with him and his friends.
I then left the group and was by myself for a while. I went online and researched the pizza place. It turned out that the guy that I was speaking with after the show was over was the son in the family that ran the pizza place. I started to feel anxious, because I was not sure that I really wanted to socialize with people that I did not know very well. I considered ignoring the message if people contacted me to hang out, and started to hope that nobody would contact me about hanging out so that I would not have to come up with an excuse not to go. However, after researching the pizza place, I realized that I actually wanted to try the pizza. It was some kind of novel, unusual kind of pizza, with a special crust that was not normal pizza dough. I decided to go to the pizza place and use one of the coupons.
After this I remember being at the pizza place, trying to use a coupon. While at the counter to order pizza, I took out the stack of coupons. I noticed that the coupons that I had did not all seem to be exactly the same coupon. There were a few different kinds that were subtly different from each other. I picked two coupons that were subtly different from each other and showed them to one of the employees, and told them that I did not understand the difference between the coupons. At this point, the owner of the pizza place came and talked to me. They seemed extremely skeptical of me, and it looked like they suspected that I had obtained the pizza coupons through illegitimate means. They told me that they felt that I did not really believe in art and it seemed like they were skeptical that I was really at the art show in order to look at art. It started to seem like they were not going to accept my pizza coupon. I started to become upset, because I felt that I really was at the art show in order to look at art and did not have ulterior motives. I felt that I had not actually done anything wrong, and that the pizza coupons were valid. Then I woke up.
I woke up in my bed, and I could still remember a lot of the dream. After thinking about it, it started to seem like it had been an unusually strange dream. The fact that it had not seemed strange to me while I was experiencing it made the memory of it seem more strange, like I was remembering a time during which I was having some kind of episode associated with mental illness and my brain was not functioning correctly, which had now passed and I was thinking rationally again.
After thinking about the dream, however, I then started to think about my actual, real life. The previous day, on November 3, employees associated with the building that I live in had come to replace the door that the police had broken down with a battering ram. I had managed to convince them to let me keep the broken door after they replaced it with a new one, and I still have the broken door in my apartment. In addition, over the last few days I have been enthusiastically investigating how LLMs are used to write computer code. I have been having a lot of conversations with Google Search AI Mode in order to learn how to do it. I have set up a computer with multiple GPUs, and I have now successfully had conversations with my computer about writing code.
I started to compare the things that were actually happening to me in real life to my dream that seemed bizarre. It started to seem to me that, in fact, my real life was also pretty bizarre. Having extended conversations with Google Search AI Mode, and now also directly with my computer, is strange. I feel like I have been socializing with someone even though I have not been socializing with anyone. I got out of bed and went and looked at the door that had been broken with a battering ram. The door was still there. It was real. The police really had broken down my door with a battering ram, and I really had been forced to go to a psychiatric facility for no reason and then spend three days there for no reason.
This is such a strange experience. The fact that I appear to be alive during the time of the technological singularity, when technology seems likely to improve very quickly due to the invention of AI, makes it seem very likely to me that we are all actually living in deterministic historical virtual reality computer simulation created by another civilization that already discovered AI a long time ago. That seems a lot more likely to me than the idea that I, by chance, am alive at this exact moment in history during which technology is about to improve very rapidly. If this is a historical computer simulation, however, why did they make it so that I would experience such a strange series of events? It seems bizarre that I am in the situation that I am in, in which I have spent years isolated in my apartment, with many people appearing to believe that I have a mental illness even though I do not have any symptoms of any mental illness, aside, arguably, from PTSD caused by the situation itself, a situation created by those same people. It seems bizarre that I have discovered language patterns which appear to legitimately make it seem possible that a subconscious language exists. And it also seems bizarre that it is possible for the police to come to my apartment, break down my door with a battering ram, force me to go to a psychiatric facility for no reason, and that when I tell people about it nobody seems to think that it is objectionable in any way.
I am very much looking forward to having a social group of sane, rational people, to chat with about everything that has happened, who agree with me that I am sane, and that it is reality itself, as well as the behaviour of certain other people, that is strange.
Description last updated: 2026-11-04
