Dreams expose relativity because they are a phenomenon that happens in mere hours but seem to occupy a much larger time frame. In dreams people change randomly and sometimes they are populated with people you do not know saying things you would never say or have ever heard anyone say, and sometimes the worlds you occupy look as if they are right out of a Dali painting. Where does this subconscious creative force come from? It’s relativity. You are seeing the dirty trick while you slumber. You’re also seeing bits of where parts of you have been and where they will be going. This is the muse or the imagination. This is where our stories come from. The tricky bit is that dreams are not literal retellings, only hints. They are flickering lights in the darkness—we view dreams much in the same way we view films which are themselves relativity exposés. A film that details an entire man’s “life” only takes about three hours even though the man “lived” for eighty years.
One more paragraph inside. Seriously, I promise.
As a result of dreams not being literal stories they have to be interpreted much like some of these books that have endured for centuries have to be interpreted. Fear prevents us from doing this. The fear of the nonexistent death causes us to take literally what the authors intended to be inferences. Remember, they spoke in the language of their day. We tell the same stories in the language of our day and there are inferences to be made from contemporary works just as the ancient ones. Think of all that smiting business. It is no different than comparing Toy Story to a random horror flick. Toy Story possesses relative charms for kids and adults alike (key to its immense success)—the horror movie only has to hit one note, and that is one of fear. Because of this its audience is substantially limited, but it still has an audience, just not as big as Toy Story’s