just something to think about right before you go to bed.

In his 1957 novel Dandelion Wine, Ray Bradbury writes as the protagonist's dying grandmother. She says, "Important thing is not the me that's lying here, but the me that's sitting on the edge of the bed looking back at me, and the me that's downstairs cooking supper, or out in the garage under the car, or in the library reading. All the new parts, they count. I'm not really dying today. No person ever died that had a family."

AND

There is a theory put forth by Stephen Hawking based on work by R. Feynman (a brilliant physicist) that examines the possibility of multiple realities and concludes that the act of observing something creates the history that led to it. In other words, your past is constantly rewritten to accomodate your present. It only seems static because you don't know any better.






mind=blown











Sleep tight.