Fiction — The Arena of the Mind

The subconscious’ Universe — The Arena of the Mind

We’re studying the nature of fiction, its connection to the human mind, and how it is shaped particularly by the subconscious.

⇾ This post is the basis of most articles featured on the review blog: the overly self-righteous critic.

Table of content

The World of Fiction

Part II

The World of Fiction

Fiction is the subconscious’ universe. It is a reproduction of the mind and its structure. It is the endless world of possibilities created by the mind, projected externally in one form or another (drawings, writing, etc), where physical barriers are nonexistent. That world is its realm, the realm where consciousness will outpour itself and the content of the mind into the world it creates. That is the basis of all forms. But we will focus specifically on fiction itself.

That world is entirely dissociated from reality and does not act on it in any way. While vibrations can affect matter and physical reality and move them according to willpower, the process of creating fiction is entirely theoretical and doesn’t change one’s life in the same sense that “manifestation” does. Effectively, fiction affects nothing but the inside of one’s head.

➧ A visual representation of this process is in the movie Inception by director Christopher Nolan.

Because of it, fiction is often the realm of people who don’t believe they can achieve something they hope for in the real world.

When bumping against contant unfilfilment, the road to get there is believed to be barred and blocked from access, and consciousness recedes into its trenches to live exclusively in an internal world.

A classic manifestation of this (symptom) is daydreaming. But some, artists and authors, dissociation victims, invidiuals with what is called DID, etc, are able to push it further and create entire little universes that live inside their mind, and, in the case of writers and authors, to take it outside in an artistic form.

Consciousness & Author

Let’s first define consciousness. I often refer to the “author” of a work as “consciousness” interchangeably, because genuine inspiration creation never feels like it comes from you. Rather, it stems from the back of you, from the deepest and unearthed meanders of you, like it comes from the back.

That is because when we create we channel our subconscious and its content, which itself is connected by a chord to the rest of the universe. We create a funnel between us and our subconscious, so the floodgates can open and what is unconscious can flood into what is conscious.

As such, the truest nature of an author, is their “soul”. A human being is a consciousness above all else, and when we create, the “one” who does is usually our subconscious. We feel as if we’re a container for the inspiration of the consciousness in the back. We’re the humble tool, the hands to transmit the story we’re about to tell.

Spiritual circles like to refer to it as “the higher self”, philosophers call it the soul. Doesn’t matter how you name it, because we’re all speaking of the same thing.

The will being enacted in a work fiction, is that of one’s consciousness. It indicates “the will of the author.” The will of the author is what they want to achieve the most, what they naturally flock towards. Because this sense of direction is innate, it’s carried and maintained at all times by the subconscious, just like physiological functions are also controlled by the subconscious. Due to these parts being often completely unacknowledged, they resurface only when prompted through the world of fiction (the subconscious’ universe), and are thus the ruler of the story.

It thus feels a poor rendition to only refer to a creator or writer as simply, an author, rather what than it is: a consciousness; a unit of energetic currents, creating. It is more judicious to refer to the story’s creator as what it actually is. The subconscious being the seat of consciousness, these two words, “consciousness” along with “author” makes more sense. Another telling phrase can be: “the mind behind the story.”

The subconscious creates, shapes and unfolds the whole story. Hence the distinction between author, a concept we understand as somebody writing and making conscious narrative choices, as opposed to consciousness, which is the actual and real driving force behind our real choices — Obviously, in truth, there is no real and genuine distinction between both: a person however fractured from their subconscious is still the same person and vice versa, and these lines drawn are to exemplify and illustrate. But that explains my terminologies, and explains the relationship a person can have with their subconscious, especially in the process of fiction creation.

Outpouring of the mind

Fiction systematically represents the mind of the author; its creator. It’s the love child, brainchild, etc, of the author. That is always absolutely the case at all times: there is never an instance, when a work of fiction does not give us the most flawless, but especially direct and precise overview of the author’s psychology, what they are up to, the structure of their mind and its content, etc. Fiction is an outpouring of the mind.

While through suspension of disbelief, we consider that a fictional story is true within the bounds of that fictional universe, that little fictional universe is always just a projection of the author’s mind. It means that, any and all elements, from the world building, to the characters, and their behaviours, represents, or is the direct expression of (we could also say, connects back to) something that is part of who the author is. For instance, as we’ll see in the second part, the protagonist is always a self-insert, and the structure of stories, where the world always revolves around a singular character whose point of view we are in most of the time, is a reflection of the inherently egocentric nature of humans (and that’s not to throw shade).

Trauma work

Fiction imitates to a fantastically, fascinatingly precise degree a real-life process called manifestation, which gives human consciousness the ability to rewrite history, fulfill desires, and brings forth the vision of one’s soul into the grounds of reality.

Fiction is the birthing ground of the mind. If one adheres to the idea of reality being holographic in nature, that it is being projected by living consciousnesses populating the universe, then fiction is that exact same thing and process, replicated in a miniature version, inside one’s head. Fiction is the projection of one’s mind, choosing whatever art is best suited, to replicate the universe of the soul; the mind. Fiction has the uncanny property to transmit every aspect of your mind, every thing contained within it. Whether in paper, orally, through music, the mind and the soul replicate themselves, project themselves forth, a copy of themselves, through art. Fiction, in my opinion, is particularly potent regarding that process, as it manages to capture the full extent of the mind in all of its emotional complexity, especially in the way that scenarios are shaped and formed, because they allow for the greatest replications of reality. I especially recommend written forms of fiction combined with some visual elements.

In the real world (in our holographic reality, if you will), consciousness brings about scenarios that offer potential for the greatest emotional fulfillment of our soul and subconscious. The mind moves physical circumstances, adjusts them over time to suit what it wants to see. The constant goal is always to align physical, external reality to the most ideal perception a consciousness has of its reality; what consciousness, dwelling in the subconscious, wants to see, on this most primal level, it will bring about.

That process is especially needed in the rewriting of history. Circumstances occur in our lives (our matrix, if you will), that shatter us on the inside. These circumstances, are at the opposite of what we want to see, feel, experience. When we experience the horror of what we certainly absolutely do not want, we start to manipulate our reality; that is where the metaphysical nature of the vibes come into play, as the mind uses vibes in the aether to manipulate physical reality.

Fiction is not real, as it exists only in our mind. But within the mind, it is real enough, that it can emulate feelings, sensations and experiences consciousness wants to experience, making it the best form of therapy. I wholeheartedly recommend anyone suffering to simply start writing; you have no idea what you will find inside yourself until you pick up a pen and open the gates to your subconscious.

Reality is real because it affects us. And because it is inescapable. A highly immersive video game, if you will. Fiction is not real, in the sense that it does not impact reality; the creation of a fictional universe does not directly transform reality the way direct, physical and vibrational actions do.

Let’s take the idea of a physical positions as part of healing trauma. Physically putting one’s self in a position we were in during a traumatic moment, years after the event or events themselves, replicates the circumstances of that trauma; one aspect of it (the physical). That process done while being in our present-day reality that gives us a sense of safety good enough to relax, replicates the same situation, thus putting the mind right back in that moment. While combined with present-day reality, it gives the possibility for the outcome to change. When the outcome has changed, reality has changed. That is the rewriting of history.

Fiction functions under the exact same principle.

Art is the best therapy

This section relates more to the nature of art than to the specifics of fiction itself, but I wanted to discuss it simply to discuss how fiction is involved in art.

Fiction, like art, is also often birthed for the sake of healing. That is because fiction is the greatest form of self-expression. There is no higher form of self-expression than the one that exports the entirety of your mind on paper.

For this reason, as well as because of its structure and how it operates, fiction is also a fantastic tool for the navigation of the mind.

Once you have opened yourself up to a story, once your mind has began to create that story, it will use itself as a reference to create it; its own essence, your human experience on this earth, your own instinctual understanding of life. All of it is regurgitated to propel a story forward; it becomes its foundation.

-> The foundation of any fictional world and what populates it is constructed out of the essence of consciousness, your human experience on earth, and your own instinctual understanding of life. See: Why do we hate or love certain fictions?

And so, anything present in a story is a hint towards who you are. You will sincerely never create something that you are not, because the only thing the mind is capable of creating, is what it is. We all create, re-create, and reproduce what we are, we make everything in our image, because like cells, we multiply ourselves into infinity.

Because of it, you will find out about processes of your emotional reasoning that you had never suspected before or manged to grasp and understand.

The rush of daily life always makes it that we never have the time to sit and ponder. Thoughts and emotions are prompted by external reality twenty-four seven, without us taking the time to formulate, word, and assimilate every one of our responses to these external stimuli.

Sitting in the world of fiction is better than sitting in a meditation, because the world of fiction opens to you the gates of your own mind. You plunge into the reality of you, and get to explore the meanders of you. When you can enter into the meanders of your own emotional reasoning

When an author pours their mind into a story, we can observe in every facet of that story the content of that person’s mind. It is a unique window into the psychology of that person’s consciousness.

Story Structure

The Protagonist

The first way consciousness manifests itself is by replicating itself and the process of life. It starts with an avatar of itself: the self-insert, the protagonist. A protagonist is almost always consciousness’ self-insert. It’s the character that represents them the most, incarnates their intention the most, and the one that consciousness, behind the story, drives the most. If we were to zoom back from the page during the writing process, and take a look at the decisions made by consciousness in that moment, we’d see consciousness projecting itself forward, piloting its main character and putting itself in the characters’ shoes when convenient.

A protagonist is always a self-insert, period. I know it’s obvious to most, but a surprising amount of people seem to think an author is able to detach from their protagonist, and approach them impersonally. No. That is not the case. A protagonist is the essence of the author. Always.

The confusion come from the varying degrees of wish fulfilment being incarnated and actualized by the protagonist, and these wish fulfilment have varying degrees of despair to them. And thus, varying degrees of realism.

So, the less we receive something in the real world, the more we’re pushed back into our trenches. Into the deep recesses inside of us, where we end up locked in place, longing and left wanting in the misery of not obtaining those things we long for.

When that happens, we begin to warp. That is because what was once a simple process of getting what we want, has become more and more unattainable. And because of that un-attainability, we genuinely come to believe that the process to obtain the thing we want must be as complicated as obtaining that thing has been for us so far. That is, we no longer go at it directly; we don’t ask, or seek it, in a manner that is direct.

Instead, we do things we believe will indirectly result in that thing we want. That is what a warped process is like.

Certain things, like love, are fairly obvious (as in, they are a given) to some. They do not consider it a hard to get thing because they have been administered it from their early days, so that they never had to go wanting. Forms of caring, forms of attention, forms of affection: all of these are simple things.

They are simple things in the sense that obtaining them is naturally straightforward when approached organically. By design, love is simple, caring is simple, affection simple. It makes them straight forward to obtain.

But when a person does not receive this thing that ought to be basic, essential, and straightforward, perception of that obtention becomes warped.

They begin to think they have to jump through hoops, and do varying degrees of insane things, and put themselves in the craziest, most excessive situations to obtain this yet to simple and obvious thing.

This is when fiction as a wish fulfilment enters the fray. I’ve discussed this at length before, how fiction emulates the real life process of “manifestation” (that is, to pull something into our lives).

In this sense, fiction exists to give ourselves what we could not obtain in real life. It serves to create a scenario that should have happened in real life.

Except, not quite. And this is when we see protagonists that are more glaringly obvious self-inserts than others.

I’ll use Twilight as an example, because I love to use this absolute garbage as the most flawless example of a dissatisfied, unfulfilled author with an absolutely warped perception of how to get what she wants.

Many have argued that Edward is a controlling, manipulative person. And I agree. The movies purposefully toned it down, but the books show it more clearly.

And we see through these things that this is how Stephanie Meyers understands caring.

Through a person who presses her, nearly harasses her, controls her whereabouts, her comings and goings, dictates her actions, etc.

To a sane, normal person, this is infuriating at best. To a person for whom affection is a scarce currency, someone willing to get out of their way to preoccupy themselves with you in such drastic and deliberate a fashion, is a blessed relief.

But it is infuriating at best for a sane, normal person, because they were accustomed to caring administered in sane, normal ways. They do not need to jump through hoops, and attract the equally warped controlling habits of an softcore abuser to feel that they are cared for. Because they obtained it easily, readily, in a straight forward manner, and thus in simple, easy gestures.

Because of it, it makes Twilight a glaring wish fulfilment story, with Bella Swan a massive authoral projection. We know that, we understand that, because the lack of realism is so blatant, it can’t be anything else than wish-fufilment.

It is more discernible to even the least discerning because the despair with which the author wants her fulfilment shouts through the pages in everything her characters do; her characters move with in mind the goal of obtaining this fulfilment, and readers can feel it. That’s what made the story so popular; it made people with the same problem feel recognised.

But where people are mistaken in their understanding is that even the more realism-focused scenarios and outcomes always exist to draw something out of us that the author wants drawn out. That is, the author purposefully puts its characters, and self-insert, into situations that will precisely regurgitate what they want to come out of them. As I’ve said before, because of this process, writing fiction remains the best form of therapy.

As such, realism isn’t the tell-tale sign that something isn’t a projection or wish-fulfillment, because an author could simply orchestrate an event in a more realistic manner within their story, but still want that thing for personal fulfilment.

In all such stories, the longing is so powerful, the characters are build towards the purpose of fulfilling this thing.

Because of it, realism is often thrown out the window.

In the unholy trinity (Twilight, TVD, 50 shades/Shadowhunter) the protagonist becomes a character to whom all good things happen. The character is a privileged, loved, well-cared for person; she has a group of friends who are all ready to sacrifice themselves for her and lay down their lives for her. And most importantly, she has the love interests she’s always wanted. Not one of them, but two: one to fawn over her while she remains satisfyingly out of reach enough to caress her ego, and the other to be her genuine object of affection.

There is no realism to this, because in these stories, the scenarios they conjure up to obtain this fulfilment are not plausible. There is no way, for instance, that a 100+ years old immortal creature would go to high school, as has been judicially pointed out by numerous people, including actors portraying these roles.

Likewise, there are many sexual wish fulfilment fantasies that are out of touch with reality. In A Song of Ice and Fire, a story I love to quote for its lack of realism is women and sex, the author demonstrates to us the degree to which a character can become a self-insert.

And yet, and that’s where it gets interesting, most people would not say that is so, because G.R.R.M is, beyond the seat of his own issues, a mentally sane and well educated human being. As such, it reflects in his stories, in the extreme level of details he incorporates, the complexity of his world-building, and how he crafts intricate plots and storyline.

This is where we see that fiction is an outpour of the mind. Because the author is educated, we see it in different aspects of the fictional world they create. Because they would not allow for a world that doesn’t reflect the full extent of their knowledge arsenal.

And because the author has women issues, we see it reflect in every single male characters he writes, including the female characters.

In all these instances, what we see reflected is a total lack of realism, that stems from the belief that obtaining what one wants the normal way is impossible.

And that thus, the only way to obtain it, is by doing the most indirect things possible. Such as, imagining that a literal immortal being would take interest in you, to rescue you from your boring, mundane, life.


Every plot, situations and happenstances in fiction are an equivalent of something real that provoked the same emotional state explored within that fictional setting.

Very rarely is something literal in fiction, and the only thing that should ever be taken literally are the emotions explored, because they’re the only thing in common between fiction and reality: the feelings of the author, that they choose to explore through an equivalent setting, one that puts into focus/highlights the emotions that the real life equivalent experience or happenstnce has provoked.

Example: my friend is was a massive fan of stories where the princess was taken far away from her home to be kidnapped in some tower or far-off castle, and the goal of the story was to be freed from that place to go home. Obviously, my friend is not a princess in the monarchic sense of the word. But the literal, real life corresponding event to this fictionl equivalence, was the circumstances of my friend’s early life events in infancy> my friend had been born abroad, compared to where her parents were from, but was taken away from her place of birth within six months to return live where to her parents’ home country. She started out living with a relative first, until only 4 years later where she was able to live with her mother this time for good.

The whisking away part is what was felt the most by my friend, and what becomes the fictional equivalent of being kidnapped away from home. The tower part represents the perception she had of her new dwelling, her relative’s place to a tiny extent, for what it represented of having being taken away from her place of birth, and then the apartment she grew up in later on with her parent, for what it cemented of that separation.

I have other examples coming from my own fictional works, that unfortunately I do not wish to share at this present time. That example, however, is what revealed to me this aspect of fiction’s functioning: that everything in fiction is an equivalent of something in real life, with the only common centre being the emotions provoked by both those things. In fact, the fictional setting is erected and chosen and crafted specifically with in mind its accuracy as to how it will make the protagonist (the self-insert) feel.

When Something is Literal

There are times in fiction, when something is literal, however.

Examples include J.R.R Tolkien’s war of the ring in his The Lord of The Rings Trilogy, whose grand adventure and ballad in fact mirrored Tolkien’s own real life experience of war, namely WW1. But to understand that even more properly it is important to know the local (time-wise) context of that: back then, WWI had had no follow-up war, and as we historically known, was considered to be a “final” war, the one to end all wars, and was therefore referred to as “The Great War” in those times.

Having no knowledge of the future then, Tolkien’s experience was limited to his present-day reality of fighting in the first large-scale war, one that involved a greater amount of countries and peoples for the first time in recorded history, happening directly after the industrial revolution which led to an era of rapid progress and interconnectivity, and that therefore pushed the scales of that conflict to what would have been seen as unprecedented astronomical scales. Of course Tolkien had no way of knowing what would follow, and, much less our own present days conflict that spark talks of a potential WWIII and its capacity for complete inhalation and destruction.

For Tolkien, this was it, and that finality is reflected in the “good vs evil” scales of the conflict, in the sense that one “evil” force threatens to overrun the world (real life equivalent: world war), and it’s either winning it during this conflict, or watch the world fall into “chaos”. I’m putting “evil” between quotation marks for the one-dimentional perception of this real life conflict.

That is when two events are corresponding, because both events are war, whether in reality or his own fictional rendition, both events are war, albeit sprinkled with his own internal perception of it (adventuring, the monarchy, sense of brotherhood, sexism, etc).

The same goes for C.S Lewis’ war against Jadis, which is a direct representation of WWI as told through the perception of children, so they may make sense of the conflict and also feel like they get to participate in it without being shut away with no consideration for their feelings and internal state. See my analysis of Narnia here for more info.

Equivalents are the most fantastic way to decode what an author is thinking, because the fictional equivalent of a real-life occurence gives direct insight into how that person has experienced and felt that event, and specifically in what areas of themselves (emotional reasoning) it has traumatised them.

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