You Can't Force It

This is how an idea becomes real.

Ideas are fragile things.

Most ideas don't last long after they are extruded.

But rest assured, every idea you have every had or ever will have

has been the subject of countless dissertations which have never been read.

That's why people create ideas with someone else.  For ideas, though illusory, offer a certain currency.  That is all they offer.   It is the currency that drives the revolutions, demonstrations, and procreations.

And so goes the result of the implant from millions of years ago.   Prior to then, your spirit was free and moved freely from entity to entity.   The implants coalesced you into a confined space.   And so you abide.

Dreams are not like ideas.  Dreams are uniquely your own.  When you dream that the Umphreys McGee melody (which in real life you have never heard) has been playing at a meeting and causing your friends face to melt, and you ran to escape the melody, but it still followed you, that dream is uniquely your own.  And when some wise guy follows you after the meeting telling you that the melody is nothing more than the sound of you own death and then his face begins to morph into a demon--you can rest assured that no treatises on your dream have ever been recorded in human history.

But I digress.   You can't force things where they don't fit.  

And while you are down there, convictions are more dangerous to the truth than lies.     And truth is more dangerous to ideas than Malbec.   Or so I'm told.   And I pick that windy road.  Pick a point, tell it to me.  The head, its the head of an alligator.

The soldiers on the Eastern Front confront not only the Master, but the Hive, Saga, and Frankenstein.

The informer comes to Springfield.  And I deliver more coffee to encourage human resources at the place where stints are installed.