Wasn't High, Just Tired

I wrote this very strange entry in the notepad function on my iphone. I think it deserves its own post. It's dense, and offers no real conclusions.

Sometimes I wonder if perhaps my window isn't actually a window, but is instead a canvas. It does not show me the world as it is beyond the glass, but rather a twilight treescape, an unchanging drawing from the head of a person who knows what should be out there, but who has no originality. I am in a room that shows me illusions of the outside world, and I can't tell if my canvas windows reveal the world or hide it.

(image from: http://farm2.staticflickr.com/1393/1414205324_a5642d31ea_z.jpg)

The longer I live, the less this question seems to matter. I can only perceive what the window lets in, and though the window's conveyance may be true, my own perception, with all its biases, assumptions, and other complexities will inevitably distort my perception, to the point where what I see is never what's really there. It's a disconcerting thought, to realize that my own senses could be so unreliable as to be unable to accurately represent even a simple view from a window, contrived though it may be.

Suppose then that my windows truly are only canvas stretched over my walls. They could be remarkably detailed representations of the outside, exact replicas, in fact, but despite all appearances, they are not actually made from panes of glass. Imagine yourself in this room; do you feel trapped, knowing that the windows are fake? Would you feel more trapped, the truer the image became? Would a child's drawing of a single tree on a  background convey the same feeling of quiet discomfort as being in a room with the more accurate recreations?

Or would you prefer no windows at all, just four, blank, white walls if given the choice? Is a simulated world, a fake but very detailed world, better than a real but drab one? And what if that simulation approaches reality to such an extent as for the two to be indistinguishable? I have another kind of window, one that seems to convey the world with near perfect fidelity. The television engages my sight and my hearing, two of the most important senses for engaging with the world. It seems unnecessary to support the claim that sometimes we prefer illusion to reality, much as some may reflexively deny it. Yet, I think I would give up TV for all time, if the alternative were to never again be allowed to gaze out my window on the quiet, mundane, occasionally tragic, but very real world beyond it.