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Beyond Dimensions: Perceptions of Reality

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Much like watching a play in a theater, seated in an armchair, I observe the events of life unfold before me as if they are happening on a stage. The actors, the events, everything that occurs takes place in front of me, much like the theater's stage. Occasionally, there may be some noise or commotion behind me, but it doesn't disrupt what's happening on the stage. This is how I perceive reality.

In this scenario, events play out in front of me, and I pay close attention to them. The actors, the props, and the stage are all situated at a certain distance from me, within the boundaries of the stage itself. This is how I observe and interpret them. Much like in a theater, this is how we experience the reality that surrounds us.

Our vision places the elements of reality, such as objects and events, in a three-dimensional space. It's like framing a picture, guided by the fact that our eyes are positioned in front of us, allowing us to see only a portion of the reality around us. Within this frame, these elements are arranged based on their length, height, and depth within the three-dimensional plane that our eyes perceive. It's akin to observing a theater stage or looking at a painting where we admire the perspective but remain external observers, albeit at varying distances. This three-dimensional view limits our perception of the surrounding reality. It prompts us to make choices about where to direct our gaze and presents the challenge of always observing from the outside. Due to the limitations of the senses we use for perception, we don't experience reality as something we are immersed in.

Imagine if our eyes were positioned not just in front but also above our heads, on the sides of our ears, below our chin, and behind our necks. We would see reality in a completely different way. We might be able to watch television while simultaneously observing outside through a window, witnessing a loved one in the kitchen, and seeing our own back against the cushions. But this isn't possible; we must make a choice, and each time we turn our head, we leave behind the previous view.

Now, let's consider a hypothetical scenario where we could perceive reality differently. In this scenario, we might see the surrounding reality as if we were truly inside it. We would be surrounded by multiple frames, each with its own three-dimensional perspectives, much like a series of interconnected paintings where the scene expands in all directions. In this hypothesis, we could envision ourselves encircled by eight distinct perspectives. This number, eight, is postulated because a shape in a specific dimensional plane comprises a number of 'faces' or boundaries equivalent to those it would have in the preceding dimension plus two. For example, a point exists in dimension 0. A one-dimensional line is defined by two points (one marking the beginning and the other the end), resulting in 0 + 2 = 2. A two-dimensional square is composed of four lines (or sides), yielding 2 + 2 = 4. Extending this pattern, a three-dimensional cube is bounded by six squares, totaling 4 + 2 = 6. Therefore, if we were to position ourselves in a four-dimensional plane, we would perceive reality extending all around us as eight interconnected perspectives. These perspectives would complement each other, creating a network of communication. A bit hard to imagine, being used to watch a 3-dimensional plan, we could say "we are in a room, the room is a cube and has 6 sides," well...in the 4th dimension, we wouldn't focus our attention on the walls but rather on the corners, eight corners that represent the part currently visible to us of the eight cubes that encircle an element placed at the center of the room. It's not that this dimension doesn't exist; it does. If we look around, we can vaguely perceive it. We see the eight corners, the eight perspectives, and we can even imagine the eight cubes surrounding us. We can also vaguely intuit the curvature that our gaze would have if we had eyes positioned on every side of our head. With imaginative effort, we grasp the sphere that envelops us, composed of eight cubes. However, we lack the sensory capacity to fully apprehend it. It remains an intuition, much like attempting to represent a cube on a plane composed solely of X and Y, without the perception of the Z-axis.

The distance between two elements in this perception would be defined by the line connecting these two elements as it passes through us. Additionally, it would be defined also by the curve connecting them as it moves around us. To illustrate, it's akin to measuring the distance between two locations on a map; this distance encompasses the straight line we draw on the map and the curved path that connects them along the Earth's surface.

Returning to the theater, imagine that we are watching a play with eyes positioned at every angle around our head. We not only see the actors performing their scene, but we also perceive the gentleman who stands up three rows behind us and exits, and the two lovers kissing in the upper balcony on the right. Previously, these were merely indistinct noises. Perhaps it was a draft caused by an opening door, and we speculated about what it might be. Our neighbor might have whispered a more or less rational hypothesis, like 'It's a pigeon' or 'It's a child,' leaving us to decide whether or not to believe it. Alternatively, we might have thought, 'It's the director, providing instructions to the actors,' even though we couldn't be certain. We could have even entertained the idea that it was a ghost, escorting away those who didn't applaud, and considered that as a possibility.

The way we perceive reality and our interpretations of the phenomena around us take into account the limitations of our sensory tools and often require an element of faith.

Now, let's expand our thinking to consider additional dimensional hypotheses, even a 5th dimensional reality. Picture this: I am in one room, but simultaneously, I am in nine other rooms surrounding me. I have a complete, 360-degree view of each of these rooms. While I am physically in ten places at once, it still feels like I am in only one place. Some of these rooms contain objects, while others are empty. Attempting to perceive these objects would be futile. For example, I might be in one room watching a person walk, while I hear the sound of their footsteps in the adjacent room. This person then exits one room and enters another. Consequently, my visual perception shifts from seeing them to hearing them, and vice versa. To give you a rough idea, much like Venn diagrams, those overlapping circles used to represent similarities often seen in presentations or economic treaties. If we could perceive this dimension, we would be surrounded by a reality that develops around us in 10 spheres, all sharing the central part, which is ourselves.

Could our senses be equipped to perceive such a reality? Or perhaps, such a reality exists, but our current senses are not capable of perceiving it. Everything we currently perceive is akin to sitting on the couch with our gaze fixed on the television. What exists beyond that? This question remains unanswered. Regardless of how much we ponder it, we must acknowledge that we might never find a definitive answer. Our limitations, which are not only cultural but also biological, may confine us to perceiving only a small fraction of reality, with no possibility of seeing more. We are powerless, unable to control this, unable to rebel, unable to plunder it; we can only accept our limitations.

We previously tried to envision time as a series of interconnected segments, each with its unique length, inclination, and speed, through which the moments flow back and forth. Each of these segments represents a life, an existence, a reality. These segments are positioned within a particular dimensional plane, but what if we dared to imagine them in an additional dimension, or perhaps more?

Let's start by considering a tube of fixed length, wide enough to house a small white marble. Placing the marble inside and giving the tube a shake, we find that the marble occupies a specific position within the tube. Shake it again, and it's likely to be in a different spot, but it's always within the confines of the tube. Now, introduce two more marbles, one green and one red. With each shake of the tube, these three marbles assume different positions, varying distances from each other and from the tube's ends, yet they always maintain the same sequence in which we introduced them. Drawing a line connecting them to the tube's boundaries, this line remains consistent.

Now, let's shift our perspective from the tube to a box, each side of equal length to the tube. Placing the marbles inside and shaking the box, the marbles can move freely. Every time we shake the box, the marbles arrange themselves differently, taking various positions, different distances from the box's edges, and a different sequence, as they are now unconstrained. When we draw a line connecting them to two opposite edges of the box, this line differs each time, with a statistical probability of repetition being minimal.

Consider, then, what it would mean if a segment of time were more like this box than the tube. In such a scenario, there would be an immense unpredictability in how the segment connecting life events would arrange itself during each passage from the beginning to the end and back. It's likely that every transition would yield a unique configuration, subject to statistical probabilities, offering countless possibilities in terms of speed, inclination, and interactions with other segments. It would be akin to a marble in a pinball machine, where every bounce is singular.

We are merely at the dawn of exploring hypotheses that suggest an extension of reality differing from the conventional and universally accepted concept. We might be mistaken; there might be far more or far fewer possibilities than we imagine, and that's perfectly acceptable.

What distinguishes these reflections is doubt – doubt about their correctness or fallacy.

I must admit that, on numerous occasions, to overcome the doubt that enveloped me as I contemplated these ideas, I sought solace in my own reflections. However, this process distorted their essence; hypotheses became theorems, theorems became certainties, and certainties became pacifiers.

I don't believe that the purpose of the reality that surrounds us is to pacify or agitate us, nor are we its purpose, nor are our emotions.

The answers to my emotions lie within me, not outside. Perhaps, when I cease to view the world as a spectator seated in a theater, I will truly begin to comprehend it.

Just like books in a library

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