Last night I had this thought as I drifted off to sleep: what if I didn’t exist? What if I only thought I existed, but in actuality I was not really here? Could it be that I am a figment of my own imagination, that I exist in another world and only think about myself living here? I admit to actually rolling back over to make sure my beloved was asleep next to me. Surely her presence would confirm that I really do exist!
What about you? Have you ever experienced this phenomenon? The question of existence is fundamental to our lives. Maybe that is why I was asking it. Bedtime is a time to ask fundamental questions. In that period between being awake and alive to asleep and dead (in a sense) we may more easily ponder the meaning of all we have encountered that day. I know I often ask what I will do different tomorrow and that usually results in some sort of promise to myself that I end up not keeping. I come back to eerily similar conclusions night after night.
But the existence question is not normal for me. Maybe it should be. How do we know we are really here and how will we know when we are really not here anymore? Ultimately, what does it mean to exist?