The books are about consciousness, awareness. The things happened, they didn’t happen, some happened, some didn’t happen – it doesn’t matter. As individuals we each move among many levels of awareness. What can be called real, what we think about it, what we think it is after we process it. What we dream when we are asleep, what we daydream about, the things we carry with us, saved movements in time that are as real in the present as they ever were in the past, all get bundled into what we know, what we perceive. Much of it is something we can’t explain, can tell to no one, as if it too complex, to a degree, but because, really, no one is interested in hearing about it. Castaneda allows that all of these levels exist and uses each of the separate realities in a linear fashion, coming and going among them.
They are books about a lot of things, but the uniting theme, among them, is a simple explanation of how most anyone perceives, thinks; how we form what is known as conscious thought, the inner voice. That he brought these books, and his life, into one expression, one way of saying things is the brilliant part of this art. The fact that he created the characters, and events, maybe molded them from bits and pieces, doesn’t matter. They become real are real, is the point. Each of us do this, when we imagine what we will say, should have said, would have done differently in the past, what would have happened if, when and why. I can just as easily reimagine a situation with a different outcome, and say it as such, an imagined thing, but as I am thinking it, it is as real as anything. I am imagining it as real. It is functionally no different than recalling something, something previously forgotten. Each are alternate scenarios, separate realities. We bundle these alternate version of our pasts, presents and futures together to create who we are, to become the conscious version of ourselves. They are a brilliant explanation of the common, everyday existence of anyone.