Cosmic Lizard and his friend the Headsman live on a lonely shore. Cosmic Lizard eats the world, bit by bit. He digests what he eats. Hopefully he takes in the nutrients he needs to live. Then he regurgitates the digested bits of world along with Cosmic Lizard’s own blood and bile.
Cosmic Lizard hates the taste of regurgitated world, and Cosmic Lizard is possessed of the regenerative power known to all lizards, except times ten. So when he is done regurgitating, he signals his friend the Headsman. The Headsman then whacks off Cosmic Lizard’s head and Cosmic Lizard grows a new one.
Cosmic Lizard’s head grows back quickly, but the severed heads of Cosmic Lizard take some time to pass away. So, for a while after Cosmic Lizard’s regurgitation, Cosmic Lizard’s old head tries to engage Cosmic Lizard’s new head in conversation. Cosmic Lizard’s new head is usually too busy to chat. It needs to eat world to replace the energy lost in regeneration. Or maybe the body holds enough sway over the new head to keep it focused on the body’s business.
Sometimes Cosmic Lizard thinks he is finished regurgitating but is mistaken, and on those occasions there may be several heads in colloquy beside the pool of yack. Buried in their suserration are comments on what was eaten and what was regurgitated, what it means to be freed by the Headsman’s ax from the digestive function, and how the heads have been getting along since the blow was struck. Together, the heads imagine what they might have done had they never been bound to the back, legs, belly, and tail.
My daughter, such is the nature of consciousness.