The stuff we call memory is… approximately, the petrified remains of effulgences of dreaming, which must have been the state of mind common to our distant ancestors. These bubbling pools were pressed downward, compressed, by ongoing exposure to language and structured thought that previously floated occasionally to the surface as ‘insight’.

Natively, however, these faculties exist as something we might imagine to be modulating, distributed constellations of ‘littleminds’, dreaming furiously and invisibly, just beneath the deepest accessible membrane of waking consciousness… and I now suspect that our ‘memories’ are largely the byproducts of their ongoing whimsy, fury, and divergence from what we imagine as object reality.