What do I mean?
Why am I here?
Where am I going?
Why am I going there?
By James Wadman
A range of philosophical, spiritual, and scientific principles can lead you no closer to answering the most basic questions of human purpose than your own subjective pursuit of meaning. However, there is a single question that humanity inherently asks and begs for an answer: Where do we go when we die? I often wonder about this question with no attempt to actually claim an answer. This is because the dispute of the afterlife and is a subjective debate, that cannot be answered with a single case study or even quantitative analysis of the neurobiological implications in near-death or post-traumatic experiences. Though the processes of death and dreaming are vastly different chemically, the psychological components are quite similar.
Imagine, if you can, becoming aware in the most beautiful dream you have ever had. It feels sensational to be awake and limitless at the same time, yet somewhat eerie and unruly. However, before you can create your own dream’s plotline, you must allow your mind to return to the memories exhibited by the subconscious events of your dream. This conceptually creates a bridge between the subconscious frontier and the conscious stimulus from which the ideas were derived. You are blocked from the external world, fast asleep in bed, yet you have the entire universe at your fingertips.
Death begins with a similar structure, only instead of seeking to understand the setting of a dream, a person’s mind flips through page after page of memory to try to understand the onset of death itself. Primarily, this can be recognized psychologically by the ever so familiar report of a person’s life “flashing before their eyes.” However, this process is immensely more profound when assessing the biological component that differentiates death from anything else a human will ever experience. Not unlike dreams, one becomes completely dissociated from the external world during a near-death experience. Ironically, it is this barrier that opens the mind to what I would label as a subjective limitlessness that we do not fully understand.
This barrier can be replicated by antagonizing the NMDA receptor in the brain. In only a few words, this receptor is responsible for linking conscious observation to stored memory to create an instantaneous understanding of what is being observed. Upon fading into death, even if your eyes are still slowly fading shut, the human brain becomes isolated from the sensible universe, but all the more intertwined with your own experiences, memories, desires, and fears.
From here we do not reach a dead-end nor must it end with tranquil expulsion into oblivion. What is left is the human mind, unrestricted from the limitations of consciousness and endowed with the circulation of memories. This is where the dream becomes design. An unrestricted human mind is the mould of all creation. You no longer are within your body; you are no longer a biological machine of blood, tissues, and organs. Death simply means that you become a product of your imagination.
I omitted much scientific proof to allow the ideas I wanted to portray to be understood by all. If you are someone who must know the scientific terminology for what you read, I not only commend you, but I also would be more than happy to share the deeper scientific insight to any principles I describe. Please comment or email me if you are interested in the deeper meanings.