Philip K. Dick said it best:

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.”


“This,” announced the Doctor, “is the Monestary of the Believers.”

“The believers in…?” prompted Sally.

“Everything. Everything that is. And a few things that aren’t. They devote a lifetime to it. Each devotee is not allowed to have the item they’re meant to believe in.”

Sally peeked through the slot. A monk knelt on the floor, writing or praying or both.

“So they’re a believer in chairs?”

“Yes. Fella three doors down believes in tables. Poor man has to do his writing on the floor.”


“I feel sorry for the lady at the end of the hall. She believes in cushions.”

“Why go to all this bother?” Sally asked. “Things had to exist before people believed in them.”

The Doctor gave her one of his smirks. “Did they? Or were they just collections of atoms with a convenient shape and a familiar name?”

Sally would spend the rest of her life asking herself that question.

[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]