I woke up this morning with an unusual feeling – a noticeable hunger for reality. I had been having one weird dream after another and waking up sometimes relieved that they were over and could be escaped by waking up and realizing they were just an odd collection of people and events put together, but they were really just fiction. Then it hit me – that's really what my perception of life is. The way I view others and circumstances and try to put it all together – they may all be factual and really exist, but how I try to make sense of it all always produces just fiction. That's all I'm capable of producing. The father of sinful flesh is also the father of lies. Left to myself it is completely impossible for me to come up with a right view of reality no matter how plausible it may sound. Then I thought of the The Analogy of the Satellite Receiver.