A cutaway is a shot that's usually of something other than the current action. It could be a different subject, a close up of a different part of the subject, an earlier or a later time than the present or any of many scenarios.
Many movies use this device to add suspense, mystery, time travel or to fill in otherwise missing facts to a story. The camera may dart back and forth between the current and the past or future action. Authors use the device in books, using words to change the scenario back and forth. In fact, in some cases, it can be confusing as to in which scene the action one is viewing or reading as taking place, the "present, real" one or the cutaway. It does keep one’s interest piqued.
But what if it were not just a fictional device? I was thinking, how interesting if would be if our real lives had this capability of wandering back and forth between times and places, of actually reliving or pre-living those "flash-backs" we may at times sense or recall. But instead of vague feelings, what if the blanks were to be filled in so we’d be living the details while "there"? Just think! It might be an entirely different time of history, in a totally different place on Earth! Our role there could be any from the top banana to a lowly servant. We might walk the face of another planet or go to the farthest area of space! Or- we might be in the same place as now, but in a slightly different setting and time.
It would be a bit like a Time Machine, perhaps; and what if the fast forward or reverse actually delved into times we may have lived or may live in the future, but don’t recall at all? It’s mind boggling! If we could transport back and forth at will, - that would be really interesting! What if we could actually recall things that happened before our memory capability kicked in, perhaps even prenatal memories?
It almost seems that, if we can conceive of something, it’s possible. Makes me wonder whether all that we think we see and hear, smell, taste, touch and feel are somehow extensions of our own imagination and invention. Details we think of as real parts of life, such as joy and pleasure – well, think about it! They’re not organic, and if they are, they’re organic only within human life; you might say, subjectively. The earth and its features don’t feel these "realities" and we can only truly feel our own - subjectively.
We become so accustomed to accepting our subjective perceptions as "fact", though, that we really believe it is when often it’s really "just in our head". That’s not abnormal. In fact it’s probably the "norm". It was the mindset which had people believing that the sun rotated the earth. It’s ego-centric. So what-if we imagine a cutaway which is only in our minds? Does it matter? If one prefers truth, yes it matters when one believes and accepts an untruth – as truth. On the other hand, "positive thinking" means one chooses to emphasize the better rather than the worse in reality. There’s much to support that focus on the better brings it forward and that focus on the worse brings it forward. So perhaps we walk a narrow line.
Along with the ability to believe in one’s choice of possibilities, humans are also vulnerable to outside influences with hidden agendas promising things. Unless we are jaded, we also tend to trust, which allows unscrupulous manipulators to gain a hold on our credibility. Skillful manipulators are able to lead entire groups into incredibly self-harming beliefs. I think of Jim Jones and his followers.
So what is healthy cutaway? Better yet, IS there healthy cutaway as we’re considering it? And what-if we’re living, breathing cutaway artists? What-if there really are parallel universes in which we live the same – or different lives, with different time sequencing and populated with different "others"? Would we be aware of that if it should be so? Do we get glimpses across times/miles/eras? Is that possibly what déjà vu really IS?
I remember many years ago reading a book by Edgar Cayce. I found it felt so disturbing, I was unable to finish reading it. I wasn’t cowardly; it just seemed wrong. I recall thinking quite consciously, "Some things are better left unknown." The moment I thought that is so vivid in my memory. I was resting in the afternoon with a book, upstairs in the master bedroom of the farmhouse up in "The Knobs" in Southern Indiana where we lived then. The wallpaper was a tapestry design in pale blue, flocked design on silk shantung-looking monotone background. The floors were the original wide-planked pine, some with gaps between the planks wide enough to stash a secret poem or two. The book was thick, burgundy cover. Why did I remember that so vividly, though I stopped reading before I felt more uneasy? It was not typical of me to shut off knowledge or information. I was accustomed to reading quite serious and factual books, history, economics, science, psychology, philosophy. I had time for reading and took full advantage of it. Why not Edgar Cayce? I shall probably never really know. But I can vividly recall the cautious feeling I had at the time. Was I getting too close to opening some door within me I was not comfortable opening?
Am I unique in experiencing this kind of moment, – with it’s long-term impression?
Also - has this ever happened to you? I had a memorable recurrent dream for awhile. It was so vivid I still can almost physically feel the experience of approaching and entering what seemed to be a large single room, completely encased in glass, high-ceilinged , set up several steps from ground level, with the curved graceful steps all the way around the base and with silently sliding entry panels wherever one happened to approach. I never found it locked.
Inside the enclosure there was but one main thing: a lovely grand piano with its bench. But when I’d entered and looked on further, I discovered there were multiple lower levels to the edifice, with many nacelles – living nacelles with sleeping, bathing and eating facilities. However these were arranged artistically as personal spaces would be in a single-family dwelling, not as formal separate apartments. Each nacelle had its own lovely color-coordinated décor and tasteful accessories throughout its premises. Adjoining hallways were intimate, beautifully appointed extensions of the nacelles, though they did separate them for privacy and the hallways, as well as the nacelles were always appointed with fresh cut flowers on antique hall tables exquisitely lit with lamps and placed on gorgeous oriental rugs. The entire place was bathed in light, although one sensed it was all progressively underground in "stories". "Windows" were more like murals, though they were adorned with draperies and shutters like real windows.
But on each visit, I was intensely aware that there were no other people around or about, although each time I dreamt this dream, I discovered more stories and layers of its underground hive. But then suddenly I ceased dreaming this scenario.
What was all that? The only other recurrent dreams I’ve ever had were as a child when I dreamt I could fly and was always flying away from kidnappers! I understood the basis for that recurrent dream, though. It was during the Charles Lindbergh baby kidnapping incident all over the news. I was afraid I’d be next, though Mother assured me that 1) we weren’t rich or important enough folks for kidnappers’ attention and 2) they would hastily return me if they were so foolish as to kidnap me. That possibility of rejection by kidnappers may have frightened me more than being kidnapped, though I felt sure she was mistaken about it! After all, I had Shirley Temple ringlets and everyone I knew loved me! So I continued my flight practice in the unlikely event that they overlooked and didn’t realize we weren’t important or rich enough folks fo merit their attention! Besides I really enjoyed flying and escaping those kidnappers!