The Lucid Myth: Dissolving the Avatar in Dreamy Aesthetics

We often find ourselves caught in the trap of believing that there is a hierarchy of reality. We walk through the world with a sense of importance, convinced that the waking state is the solid ground of truth while the dream is merely a fleeting shadow. But let’s look closer at this assumption. What is it that distinguishes the two? If we listen to the neuroscientists or the philosophers who study the mechanics of the body-mind, we find that the waking state is just as much a construction as any midnight fantasy. Our brain processes electromagnetic inputs and electrical impulses to build a world of colors and boundaries, yet those colors do not exist "out there." They are a creation of the system. Even the sensation of being firmly planted inside a body is a mental construct, a specific frequency of electrical current that keeps the separate self feeling localized for the sake of survival. When we talk about dreamy aesthetics, we aren't just discussing a visual style or a mood. We are talking about the recognition that all experience—whether it’s the vivid clarity of a sunny afternoon or the hazy shifts of a sleep state—is made of the same substance. It is all the absolute. There is no "more real" or "less real." There is only the totality appearing as this moment. Some people get very excited about lucid dreaming, seeing it as a way to master a hidden realm or to fly through the clouds by sheer will. They think that by taking the reins of the dream, they are achieving something significant. But who is the one taking the reins? It is just the separate self trying to extend its control into another dimension. In the world of video games, we see this clearly. You can play as a magician or a warrior, seeing the character from a panoramic view or through the eyes of the avatar itself. In the panoramic view, you see the character moving through the landscape; in the first-person view, you only see the hands and feet. This is exactly how the body-mind functions in what we call "real life." We are so deeply embedded in the first-person perspective that we forget the avatar is not conscious. The character in the game isn't the one who is aware; the awareness is what allows the game to be seen at all. We are like someone looking through a narrow tube. We see a small circle of the room and think that circle is the whole world. We have restricted our vision so tightly around the "me" that we miss the fact that we are the entire room. There is no this moment because there is nowhere for the avatar to go. The character in the dream cannot "wake up" to become the dreamer; the character is just a temporary form within the dream. When the dream ends, the character doesn't achieve anything; it simply ceases to be seen. What you already are is the conscious presence that remains regardless of whether the screen is showing a tragedy, a comedy, or a blank space.