One of the theories of why dreams occur is that it is just my brain trying to make sense of the random synapse firings that go on during REM sleep. The random firings would be the result of random neurotransmitter releases in my brain.
Another theory (per Freud) is that our dreams are repressed feelings or desires, you know, having to do with sex. Freud is great and all, but I’m inclined to not believe anything he says.
A third theory is that my dreams are somehow constructions of my uninhibited thought. There are no social “guards” up when I am asleep, and so my brain goes crazy.
I don’t know which one I agree with. I’m not an expert on sleep, dreams, or psychology. There is one thing that caught me as I read this, though. All of the theories accept as normal that my brain must make sense of the dreams somehow. This occurs either automatically within my brain while I sleep, or after I wake up and try to “sort through” all of that content.
I need make sense of things. I need meaning, and order, and a reason for things. I don’t think I’m the only one, but that’s getting away from my point. My point is that our brains, this jumble of neurons, ions, and gray matter has a sense of what it is, and what it aught to be doing. That, in itself, is strange.
The fact that my brain has life, is sentient, and “knows” things is explained by science as being the result of complex chemical reactions. I just don’t know if I can accept that entirely. I think that physiological processes get physiological results. Obviously, we have drugs that heavily alter our states of consciousness, and our moods, emotions, etc. Here is my question, why? What is going on here?
When I tell someone I love them, and really mean it, is that just chemicals speaking? Why does my brain even bother making sense of things? Why would life become more complex, isn’t it easier to be simple, and only meet a few needs? Why involve emotions when you could survive by engulfing the other microorganisms that are in the soup with you?
I don’t like reading the end of these posts and thinking, “here comes the cheesy connection to the cosmos and everything profound.” In this case, however, I don’t know where else to go. I don’t think we’re just chemicals. If we are just chemicals, just things that interact because of this or that, then we can know each other completely. We can understand every aspect of human behavior in terms of chlorine, potassium, and sodium ions. I don’t want that. That means that human personality is finite, that love is finite, and joy is finite. They’re just another definable, classifiable, and changeable state of our human physiology.
What if we were more? What if there were another thing, outside of chemicals, that made us who and what we are? I know the chemicals are there, and they do their jobs. I’m glad they do, but I really hope they aren’t it.
