Deeper thoughts

Last night I woke up, shocked because I had a nightmare where a man was at the foot of my bed, looking at me. I woke up from the shock. What does this mean? Is this now the moment where I need to write a great philosophical thought about the interpretation of my dream? Maybe it means nothing. Maybe dreams are random. Does anything actually mean anything at all? Do we exist and procreate just to keep existing and procreating? Is that our meaning of life? To exist? Is it all that shallow?
We are a robot made of skin and bones, driven by chemistry. We think we are conscious beings and in fact, we like to consider ourselves highly intelligent and advanced, although at the same time we admire the irony of our civilisation being so destructive. Maybe we are just advanced robots, created by themselves, we want to dominate and rule like a plague; machines are taking over, but the machines are not our phones or gadgets, the machines are you and me, robots with chemistry to push them around our simulated reality, to make us have inclinations and preferences, make us driven or lazy, crazy or sane, in love or psychotic... Maybe it's so random that we exist in the first place that there is only one other "advanced" life form in the universe and we will never know. Our Sun will explode and wipe our existence away, and only leave our radio waves floating in the cold empty solar system, waiting to be discovered, but sadly never will, because of the vast distances, they will never be heard, and we will be forgotten. Our existence, every battle, every fight, every tear, every scream, each kiss, each birth, all the moments, the beauty of our planet, the raw wounds we all hold, cultures, language, music... Everything, will be nothing. It all means nothing, yet we insist in having these deep thoughts, seeking an answer to our curiosity and deep thinking. We are just a speck of dust floating in the air, falling on a newspaper on a land field, forgotten.

Does this make us special? Our need to love, fight, dream and sacrifice, for nothing at all? Does that make us magical? Maybe that's what we want to think, to protect our own way of being and help us from going insane.

Maybe I am not even here. Maybe I am just a cloud floating in space and has randomly gained enough consciousness to create the simulated world I live in. My cold body, my itchy hair, my broken nail, my dry mouth... It might all be made up by myself.

I don't know what I'm waiting for or expecting. Maybe a warm hand on my shoulder, maybe a kick in the ass... Maybe I should dig deep inside my soul and kick my own ass (my soul's ass), and wake up my inner light. I feel I'm a witness of my life. I sit inside my brain and watch through the lock and spy on my life. I should whisper in my ear and be my own comfort, because there's nothing better than not needing from others and being happy with yourself, so I should tell myself this, "I am happy with the life I am witnessing and I will whisper things to myself to make this life the film I'd want to go see at the cinema".

So yeah, this is my mood today.

Good night world.