We call it Earth, but maybe it’s just the loading screen of something far older—gravity the frame rate, mountains the geometry, and every sunset a perfectly timed render pass.
The blue marble spins in silence, too beautiful to be accidental, too consistent to be real—perhaps we’re not living on a planet, but inside the most expensive screensaver ever coded
If Earth is a simulation, then plate tectonics is the physics engine, auroras are graphical glitches, and déjà vu is when someone briefly alt-tabs back into our instance.
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(This image is a depiction of Plato's Allegory of the Cave, a philosophical parable from his work Republic)
Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, presented in Book VII of his dialogue The Republic, is one of the most influential metaphors in Western philosophy
It serves as a profound illustration of human perception, the pursuit of knowledge, and the challenges of enlightenment. Written around 380 BCE, the allegory is part of a larger conversation between Socrates
(Plato’s teacher and the dialogue’s protagonist) and Glaucon about the ideal state and the role of education in achieving justice. Below, I’ll break it down step by step, explore its key elements, interpretations, and lasting impact.
“Illusion Veils the Matrix, We Architect Our Own Reality” by Carli B. Frueh
Ever feel like reality is just an illusion? A matrix veiling the truth?
In this raw memoir, I share my suicide attempt—a gunshot that grazed my heart—and the five days in a mental hospital where I..
navigated alternate dimensions, confronting my shattered psyche.
This near-death experience sparked enlightenment: We are the architects of our reality. Time is an illusion, souls eternal. Break free from limitations and build your paradise.
Like passing Bottomless Lakes, I..
learned there’s no true bottom—only endless possibilities we create.
Dive into my story. Available as an eBook on Barnes & Noble and paperback on Amazon. Architect your reality today! 📚✨
Now Available on Barnes & Nobles
🌌 What if hitting rock bottom was the key to unlocking infinite possibilities? In “Illusion Veils the Matrix, We Architect Our Own Reality,” I share my raw, unfiltered story of surviving a suicide attempt that shattered my world—and rebuilt it
anew.
From the depths of despair in a mental hospital, where I navigated alternate dimensions and confronted the illusions of reality, came a profound enlightenment: We are the creators of our own existence. This near-death experience ignited a cosmic awakening, revealing how
consciousness shapes time, space, and our soul’s eternal journey.
This isn’t just my memoir—it’s your invitation to break free from the matrix and architect a life of purpose, love, and paradise. Available as an eBook on Barnes & Noble for $8.88. Transform your reality today! 📖
Google earth anomalies: The Doorway in the Ice & THE INDIAN OCEAN
The world was a lie, and Carli B. held the coordinates to prove it. At 69°00’50″S 39°36’22″E
buried in the frozen heart of East Antarctica, a doorway waited—carved into the ice like a wound in the simulation’s skin. She’d found it on Google Earth, a passageway that refused to blend into the sterile white expanse.
A perfect rectangle, too vast to be natural, too deliberate for chance, its edges glowed faintly in the satellite’s lens, as if daring her to step through. Carli’s breath caught as she zoomed in, her laptop’s cold blue light bathing her Chicago apartment in an ethereal glow.
Chapter 9
The Hum in the Bone - “Controlled Rebellion” by Carli Frueh
Then the world cracked open wider. I was rummaging through Johnny’s old stuff—boxes of his life stashed in the attic, reeking of mildew and faded regret…
when I found it: a Polaroid, edges curling like burnt paper, tucked in a rusted tobacco tin that rattled when I pried it loose. It was me, maybe five, standing in the breezeway of the old project building, right in front of the elevator, grinning like a fool with no clue what was
coming. Above me, smeared in the sky, were those lights—three green smudges, too sharp for lens flare, too real for tricks. On the back, in Johnny’s shaky scrawl: “They came for her. I couldn’t stop it.” My stomach plunged, cold as Lake Michigan in January, a shiver racing up my
But some of us saw past the smoke. We weren’t the loud ones, the ones slinging fists or spray cans under streetlights. Our rebellion simmered quieter, a slow ember glowing in the marrow, patient, waiting for the gust that would set
it ablaze. It started in the shadows—those jagged corners of the projects where the rules bent, where reality flickered like a busted bulb. Lights hovered too low in the sky, silent and wrong, mocking the stars.
Dreams clung like wet ash, heavy with faces we didn’t know, voices whispering truths we couldn’t unhear. Scars appeared—on my ankle, DeShawn’s wrist, Lena’s shoulder—marks no knife or fall could explain, souvenirs from a deeper fight we hadn’t yet named.