My baby asks me a challenging question. (dream)

Image by Midjourney

DREAM

I'm going on vacation, and my friends are going to babysit for me. (Well, they'll help me watch my infant at least.)

We go to a train station, and I get on a couple different, short trains. It's a gray, dark, misty day. 

Then we go to their house and start playing video games. I find myself to be a character in the game, swinging off of an exploding helicopter. 

I come back to my real self and hold my baby. 

I start playing video games again.

I put the controller down, and then I hold up the baby over my head. He's grown older. He has a full head of strawberry blond hair. But he's no older than a very young toddler. He asks me, "What is a mind?" 

I'm not sure how to answer him. It's hard for me to define it. I just go with something simple, and say, "It's like thoughts." 

INTERPRETATION

I didn't really notice this at first, but I've been thinking a lot about the mind and soul lately. I wonder if a human being can have an indestructible essence. I kind of want to think a person can, yet I'm inclined to think a person doesn't. I've had experiences with psychosis, and my entire being is completely different under that amount of stress and paranoia. I no longer felt like me, although I would still have feelings. And real acts of kindness would always be able to poke through the overwhelming fear. But who would be the "me" to live on and on and on? Hopefully not that ill version of me. 

They think that either antipsychotic medication or the disease of schizophrenia lowers brain volume over time, and I wonder what that will mean for who I am and my quality of life in my 60s or 70s. I've learned that you can't just expect statistical likelihoods to apply to you, because everyone is impacted differently by disease and medication. So I'm not sure what the future will hold. All I can do is make the most of the functionality I do have right now--which is the same position we're all in, I suppose.

I know people with severe dementia. I'm not sure what their own experience of life is anymore, but all of a sudden, they can't be who they were to me. 

What does it even mean to be who you are though? Is the mind something that just encases and channels these drives we have based on our chemical composition? We know that everyone's brain power and speed dwindles with age. It's just a matter of when and to what degree. So at least in that one aspect, you're no longer yourself as you age. I suppose that means you're no longer quite yourself if you learn something new, too, because you've grown new connections in the neurons of your head. But that's not a bad thing. Who are you if you're always changing? 

I consider myself a convert to Buddhism, even if I do things I should not still--but some traditions believe you have an essence that survives and perhaps reincarnates. Some Buddhist traditions suggest that it's not important to know or prepare for what happens after you die, because that's not where your focus should be. Your focus should be on how best to live here and now. 

I think that's the most sensible position to take, but I like to consider the possibilities too. And I also wonder if there's a way to prepare for mental decline by really making mindfulness and other valued  perspectives and principles a subconscious habit. I doubt that would be enough to eliminate the irritability that seems to come with dementia. I've seen very, very sweet people go completely against their usual personalities after dementia hits. But even if it can only be for the here and now, it has to help.