A fortnight ago, while I walked through the woods of my dreams, I came upon a familiar clearing and a familiar campfire. However, I came upon an unfamiliar man in tattered clothing. He was sitting indian style, he was alone, and his his eyes lit up when we made eye contact.
He stood up, in tattered clothes, and spoke to me, "Come here, let us speak. I know that your ears my not be ready for the words which I have to say, but you must listen anyway, okay? I know that you're young, and perhaps in the middle of an identity crisis. I'll tell you now what you need to know to make your transition to the adult world a bit smoother. Today, I (your future self) am a hermitic, Buddhist priest and moral philosopher. I chose this path because I realized this: Morality may be relative, but virtue certainly isn't. You can call whatever you like Right, whatever you like Wrong, and you can carve your own Buddha sculpture. However, you cannot achieve enlightenment if you continually chip away at his countenance by sinning against yourself. You must construct your own ideas of Right and Wrong, and then you must stick to them and remain virtuous. This is the only way to find that which you seek - Nirvana."
"How am I supposed to remain virtuous," I replied, "when my ideas of Right and Wrong are in a state of perpetual fluctuation? How could a rational mind ever develop moral absolutes? I'm not sculpting any Buddha statues, but if I were, then I'm sure that I wouldn't sculpt just one. If I were confined to sculpting just one, then I'm sure that I would spend too much time thinking about what he should look like, and I would probably never even start the damned thing. Anyways, do I really need one of these statues to be 'enlightened', or to reach 'Nirvana'? What do those words mean? The statue is a metaphor for virtue, right? The appearance is a metaphor for relative morality, right? Are you sure that you're me? I'm guessing that you're lost."
His gaze remained the same as I spoke my words. When I finished, he looked away for a second, then immediately came back with a grin. He spoke again, "Damn. That was a weird dream."
Somewhat startled, I could only manage to mutter, "What?"
"Well," he drawled, "I was just letting you know what everyone else was going to say about 'this', at least up until that point. You see, I'm you, and I'm the one pecking away at the keyboard. I'm writing this story in retrospect, but from your perspective."
"Nice try," I scoffed, "but I think therefore I am, right? La di da di da. I can't prove it to you, but you're a product of my mind, so I don't have to."
He grinned, flung his tattered cape across his front shoulder and giggled. Then he spoke, "Of course, yes, but you're still not seeing the bigger picture. It matters not the reference frame, the time, or who is typing and who is dreaming. We are still one and the same. I am a product of your mind as you are a product of mine, yet this certainly doesn't belittle either of our existences. Do you get it yet? Oh, by the way, I was just teasing you about being a hermitic, Buddhist priest, moral philosopher, crackpot. I'm certainly allowed to have my fun, right?"
THE END, now go away.
EDIT: Don't ask me why I typed this, I just couldn't sleep.