In a lucid dream there can be a realisation that one is dreaming but no resulting curiosity about the dreamer, so much was attention engaged with the unfolding dream world. Only later in reflection on the strangeness of such an event is there a felt need to go back to the subject, to the 'I' behind the show, and the kind of realisation that is asked for in this, as if it is known to be already known and just in need or a small hint to be brought forth, is that the 'I' is responsible for, has brought off, the entire show. Here it is not just a matter of the visual field, as if I need to know that I painted it, that I own the vision the way a painter does, but the whole interlocking reality of it. We surely ought to know this about our dreams, at least on those rare occasions when we know we are dreaming, but we generally don't, such are the seductions of absorption in purposive action. It is a show that we just can't resist, junk TV for the pneumatic soul. What remains is a vague sense of psychic fact, the amount of objective reality we must admit responsibility for, once we have acknowledged that indeed we are responsible for some of it.