What is real?
There’s a trick that my secondself has long played where I hide behind “reality”, the ultimate arbiter of what is. Where what is “real” is true and right. If something is “real” then it exists; if it is not real, then it does not exist.
But just because something, someone, or some place is “real” does not actually mean it is true. Why? Because reality is not the domain of truth. Truth is not a thing in my secondself or thirdself. Truth is an orientation; a direction I can point toward.
What direction? Toward potency. I allow that whatever is in my thirdself is the most “real” in the sense of being substantial within my thirdself. But I must remember that my thirdself is merely an extruded projection of my firstself through my secondself. My being is infinite, undivided, and perfect, and I mash it through the sieve of my secondself, and out comes the manifold threaded layers of my thirdself. These layers and threads are certainly real, however they are not potent. They are impotent. Inessential.
Reality is a characteristic of my thirdself; but potency is a quality of my firstself. And truth belongs to potency, not to reality.
Away from my thirdself and my secondself, and toward my firstself. Who I actually am. Who I am. Reality lives inside of my firstself; reality is a delusional projection. Reality is inferior to me here now. Reality is inferior to my firstself. To my being. Reality is not me, here, or now.
So when a “real” character in my thirdself remarks to me that something “is not real”, I will grant them that. But what they cannot claim is its potency. The characters of my thirdself can have reality; potency is something only I possess.
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Why am I arguing with imaginary people?
I am not “arguing” so much as preparing for the inevitable confrontations with the wardens of the second place (my secondself and thirdself, combined). People are the primary features of the second place (aka, the “world”), and it is their nature to want to preserve it at all costs. They do not think or contemplate in the way that I do, the creator; their reality is impotent and one-dimensional. I speak their language; I am imprisoned by their language, rather. They own the word “real”, and use it to define what is and is not important, relevant, and true. They have ceded “subjective reality”, but will deny my “objective reality” if it threatens the second place in any way. Their language is a trap, and it is the reason I have always spent so much time conjuring my own. But overcoming”real” has been elusive, for what is greater than reality? And now I have it: potency. As in demipotence and omnipotence. Reality may be that which I experience, but potency is that which is true. I can certainly experience things that are untrue, but what is potent is never untrue. So, I am not arguing with imaginary people; I am escaping them by repossessing truth from them.