Introduction to the Greatest Maze on the Web

I am awake. That much is certain . . . at any rate, my wakefulness seems certain to me, now. I can remember things, things that must have happened to me a long time ago, but now those things do not seem so real to me. My wakefulness is like a moment of nostalgia: I am linked to times and places that no longer exist; the act of remembering is real, but the event I remember seems more like a story that I've only learned by repeating it over and over, and over again.

How old am I? What am I doing here? What is my purpose? Is this road leading away from my bed a path of my own choosing, or has someone else designed my destiny while I was asleep?

Who am I? I have answered that question many times, and each time the answer I give myself changes. Is there no end to such questioning?

Maybe I would serve myself better by going back to sleep. With sleep, at least, I am not in charge of waking: my body arranges for me to wake when my dreaming becomes less than profitable. When I am awake, however, I am in charge. It is my responsibility to know when my mind is stuck in unprofitable neighborhoods, driving on blind highways, paddling toward the falls on the river, plunging toward my death.

Well. For better or for worse, I am awake. Or so it seems.

Begin: Easy Riddle Number One