Ist die Art, wie wir über Träume reden, fundamental irreführend?

Wir wachen auf und erzählen davon, wie wir eine zeitlich und räumlich zusammenhängende Geschichte erlebt haben. Wir erinnern uns an das, was uns und den Menschen, die wir tagsüber oder vor 10 Jahren gesehen haben, in unserer lila-weißen Traumwelt passiert ist. Erinnerung impliziert, dass da etwas ist, was vor dem Moment des Erinnerns da war.

Wenn wir uns daran erinnern, dass die letzten 10 Traumminuten auf das perfekt in den Traum integrierte Weckerklingeln ausgerichtet waren — ist die räumliche und zeitliche Struktur unseres Traumes dann mehr als eine im Moment des Aufwachens erdachte Erklärung für die Aktivität der Nervenzellen, die wir durch unser Erwachen beim Reorganisieren ertappt haben?

(Wenn ja: Wie lässt sich das experimentell für “normale” Träume zeigen? Wenn nein: Wie passen luzide Träume in dieses Bild?)

If you have always wondered why everyone says that your pancakes taste interesting, why women tend to be better at cooking (hint: they think in relations) and what your friends really mean when they rave about heuristic search planning for first-order Markov decision processes, wonder no more. Few answers but lots of pretty pictures, fresh from today’s relational reinforcement learning seminar:

Wann wurdet ihr so gut darin, professionell und automatisch jeden Tag ein Stück vergangenes Leben zu produzieren? Kennt ihr euren Weg? Manchmal meine ich, meinen zu kennen, zumindest die Richtung. Dann höre ich Manuels Vortrag beim Poetry Slam, lese, was Aaron schreibt, und bin zurück beim Ausstrecken meiner Fühler und beim Vermeiden von Einschränkungen, auf dass mein zukünftiges Ich mir dankbar sei. Wirken Lebensläufe erst im Nachhinein so eindeutig — und so beliebig?

I just wrote my first letter in ten years and it felt strange. The blue liquid flowing out of my pen and onto the thin sheet of cellulose in front of me. The cell walls of a dead tree, now functioning as a kind of disposable monitor. The paper soaked with watery circles and lines, clearly one of the most wasteful ways to store one kilobyte of plain text. In a few minutes, on my way to the Christmas market, I will put this unlikely storage medium in a yellow box next to the sidewalk, knowing that tomorrow, someone will pick it up, drive it across Germany and bring it not to the addressee, but to yet another box where she will show up, sooner or later. This takes roughly 100.000 times as long as an e-mail.

E-mail is less awkward, but not by far. Part of me enjoys typing really fast, probably due to having seen too many hacker movies in my teenage years. The rest of me snickers at the idea of moving muscles and bones, pushing fingertips on black plastic, in order to transmit information from one system using electrical signals to another one. For each bit that makes its way from my head into my computer, I move a billion billion billion electrons when one would suffice.

Each intermediate step in the process of information transmission creates borders between us and makes our conversations less intimate. Bandwidth is growing, delays and barriers are going away (the final barrier being the conversion from semantics to syntax and back).

In 2007, writing a letter is like playing with mud and electricity because you are hungry and it can’t take that long until something akin to an apple tree evolves.
 
Like taking money out of your bank account and giving it away minutes later in exchange for the thing you really wanted even if you could have paid with your EC card, because you always did it this way.
 
Like taking pictures with your old analog camera and scanning them later on, because style is not defined in pixels per cm².
 
Like writing a letter, because the textual content was little more than an envelope, because what you actually said was “I care”, and because the most efficient way would have been the least effective.

What appears to be context may be information, what appears to be information may be context. The failure or refusal to accept the unspoken social contract that defines which is which is one of the main reasons why nerds are socially inept. Think small talk.