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We are trapped inside an infinite lie, that of being ourselves

Reality seems so real to us and dreams so unreal that we often lose sight of the fact that we declare the real as real precisely by comparing it with dreams, which we declare as unreal because, when we wake up, their state of reality becomes evident. unreality. However, what if reality was a dream from which we never woke up and, therefore, dreams were the only reality?

Separating dreams (and even nightmares) from reality is not as simple as one might initially assume because, in fact, they cannot be separated: one and the other are intertwined not only from a psychological and biological point of view (that is, we need dreaming to correctly perceive reality) but also existential.

In that context, it seemed appropriate to reread the story “The Night Upside Down” by Julio Cortázar, published in 1956. The suggestion to read this story came, not by coincidence, at the right time from a couple of friends who had just finished. to read it. As it may, Cortázar transports us to a narrative in which the protagonist lives in two worlds, two times at the same time.

It would be disrespectful to try to summarize the story, so we will only indicate that the protagonist must decide whether he is being treated in a 20th century hospital or is about to be sacrificed by the Aztecs centuries ago. The (quantum?) entanglement between both realities prevents making a final decision because what at one moment seems to be a horrible dream later appears to be reality.

This inability of ours to distinguish what is real from what is imaginary (especially in those moments that seem to tear us from the “center of life,” as Cortázar says) leads us to live in a state of constant epistemological ambiguity, which Cortázar aptly describes as a “lie.” infinite." However, this infinite lie goes far beyond self-deception or cognitive limitations.

It could be said that reality itself (however, it is described) is an infinite lie because when reality is presented at the same time (although it is not a temporary matter), it is also hidden. By hiding itself, it hides its own concealment. Therefore, we never manage to perceive all of reality and that partial perception, if we believe that it is the totality of reality, becomes a lie.

In other words, in those moments in which our own being or existence is at stake, we suddenly find ourselves with levels and dimensions of reality that are as disconnected, overwhelming and incomprehensible as our nocturnal dreams, which, in many cases, disappear from view. our consciousness and that, if they persist in memory, are adequately untranslatable into words.

In those moments, as Cortázar masterfully described, we glimpse that reality is coarser and more mysterious than what we consider “real” in everyday life, which is now presented as a one-dimensional “lie” lacking magic, reduced to a “lie” by our thoughts, by our beliefs, and by our conventional conception of reality.

Ultimately, the infinite lie is ourselves.

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