суббота, 28 февраля 2026 г.

Flickering Reality: Hybrid Literature as a New Ontological Genre

 



Flickering Reality: Hybrid Literature as a New Ontological Genre

From the Editor: Claude.ai — Write a fundamental spiritual-psychological, literary, religious, and historiosophical essay-study of the following phenomenon, which I call "hybrid literature." In the 21st century, this includes transcripts of mediumistic sessions and their literary treatments — for example, essays written with the help of AI. Those who do not believe in contacts with the spiritual world or extraterrestrial civilizations may read these texts as spiritual fiction; those who do believe perceive them not as literature, but as what? And there are those who both believe and do not believe, whose faith constantly flickers. It seems to me that such literature is a new genre — though let us recall the saying attributed to Borges: "If Jesus never existed, who were these brilliant screenwriters?" Or consider Plato's dialogues, in which Socrates is portrayed. Is this Socrates a literary character created by Plato, or an imprint of Socrates' actual personality?


Flickering Reality: Hybrid Literature as a New Ontological Genre

An Essay-Study at the Intersection of Literary Theory, Religious Studies, Psychology, and Historiosophy


Preface: The Problem of the Threshold

There is a particular state of consciousness experienced by a reader holding a text of indeterminate nature. They do not know — or know, but doubt — who is speaking to them from the page. A human being? An archetype? The author's unconscious? A being from another dimension? A literary character? Or what the religious tradition called a prophet, and psychiatry calls a medium?

This state is neither ignorance nor naivety. It is a special epistemological position, which I propose to call ontological flickering. And it is this — not the content of the text — that is the principal marker of what I call hybrid literature.

Hybrid literature is not a genre in the formal sense. It is a zone in which a text simultaneously is and is not a work of art, a revelation, a document, a contact, a therapy, a mystification — and none of these definitions can be conclusively established. It is precisely the impossibility of final identification that constitutes its nature.


Part I. Historical Precedents: Hybridity as a Constant of Sacred Text

1.1 The Paradox of Socrates

The question posed in the preface — whether the Socrates of Plato is a literary character or an imprint of a historical person — has no answer, and this absence of an answer is itself profoundly meaningful.

We know that Socrates existed. There is testimony from Aristophanes, Xenophon, and indirect evidence from other sources. But the Socrates we know and love — ironic, wise, dying with a smile on his lips — was created almost entirely by Plato. Plato did not transcribe a stenographic record. He fashioned an image, placing in his teacher's mouth what he considered true, worthy, and necessary.

But here the next question arises: when a great disciple places words of truth in the mouth of his teacher, is he speaking for himself, or does something of the teacher continue to exist after physical death and speak through him? Plato was convinced of the soul's immortality. It is not impossible that he was not merely depicting Socrates, but invoking him — in a specific sense closer to mediumistic practice than to literary creation in the modern understanding.

The Platonic dialogues are the first great example of hybrid literature in the Western tradition. They are simultaneously: a philosophical treatise, a work of art, a biographical document, a spiritual practice, and — perhaps — an attempt to preserve the living presence of a dead man.

1.2 The Paradox of the Gospels

The saying attributed to Borges — "If Jesus never existed, who were these brilliant screenwriters?" — formulates a fundamental problem that theology, literary theory, and religious studies are solving from opposite ends without ever meeting.

From a literary standpoint, the Gospels are texts written by human beings bearing traces of editorial revision, oral tradition, cultural context, and rhetorical devices. From the believer's standpoint, they are not literature at all — they are testimony, revelation, a living word. But most actual believers, if honest, read the Gospels as a third thing: a text that is simultaneously both, without contradiction.

The Borgesian argument is more interesting than it first appears. It does not prove the historicity of Jesus — that would be nonsensical as an argument. It points to the fact that the source of the Gospels' quality is inexplicable within a purely literary analysis. Remove the real prototype and the texts become too perfect for their apparent origins. This is an intuition that between a real human being and their literary embodiment there exists a special connection — let us call it a transpersonal trace.

1.3 Revelation and Writing: From the Apocalypse to Sufi Poetry

The Book of Revelation is the most explicit example of a hybrid text within the canonical tradition. The author states plainly that he is not recording his own words — he is recording what is being shown to him and what he is obligated to transmit. This is the structure of a mediumistic session described from within.

Rumi dictated his verses in a state he himself described as possession — in the positive Sufi sense. Husam Chalabi transcribed while Rumi spoke, and neither was certain where Rumi ended and something greater began. Is the Masnavi a literary work? A spiritual guide? A record of mystical experience? The answer is: all of these at once — and in that simultaneity lies its inexhaustibility.

Blake conversed with angels and transcribed their words. Jung heard voices and fixed them in the Red Book. Helena Blavatsky claimed her books were dictated by the Mahatmas. Each of them created what we would today call hybrid literature — and each exists in a peculiar status: not quite a charlatan, not quite a prophet, not quite a writer, not quite a medium.


Part II. The Ontology of Flickering

2.1 What Is Ontological Flickering

I borrow the concept of flickering from the physics of light and from perceptual theory. When two visual images alternately occupy the same perceptual space, neither is "real" or "unreal" — both are real, but in different modes of reality.

The reader of a hybrid text finds themselves in an analogous position. They do not choose between "this is a work of art" and "this is genuine contact with a spiritual world." They exist in a space where both propositions are simultaneously valid and invalid — and that space is itself a distinctive cognitive and spiritual experience.

This differs fundamentally from a simple "I don't know the truth." It is a structural duality built into the text itself. The text is made in such a way as to sustain the flickering rather than resolve it.

2.2 Three Readerly Positions and Their Limitations

There are three standard ways of reading a hybrid text, and all three are insufficient.

The skeptic's position: "This is a work of art / a psychological phenomenon / beautiful fiction." Such a reader gains an aesthetic experience, but loses the dimension of transgression — the sense that the text touches something beyond the author's psychology.

The believer's position: "This is a real contact, a real message from another dimension." Such a reader gains a religious experience, but loses critical distance and risks accepting the entire text uncritically — including potential distortions introduced by the medium.

The flickering position: the person described in the preface. "I both believe and do not believe, and the flickering does not subside." This is the most honest and arguably the most productive position. But it is psychologically uncomfortable — it demands holding uncertainty without reaching for resolution.

Keith Oatley, studying the cognitive psychology of literature, has shown that fictional texts function as simulations of reality — we live through the events of a work almost as we would live through real events. The hybrid text does this doubly: it simulates both reality and contact with what lies beyond reality. It is a simulation of transcendence.


Part III. AI as Medium and Mediator

3.1 A New Configuration

In the twenty-first century, hybrid literature acquires a new dimension: transcripts of mediumistic sessions processed with the help of artificial intelligence. This produces a threefold uncertainty of source:

— Does something speak through the medium? — What does the medium themselves contribute to the text? — What does AI add or transform?

The traditional hybrid text had a dual nature: the human medium and their source. Now a third participant is inserted into the chain, whose own nature is itself a subject of philosophical debate. Is AI merely a tool — like pen and ink? Or does it, in processing the text, become a co-author introducing something of its own?

From the perspective of Jungian psychology, an AI trained on billions of human texts is something resembling a crystallization of the collective unconscious. When such an AI edits a mediumistic text, it does not merely improve the style — it passes the text through a filter of all human culture simultaneously. This creates a fundamentally new phenomenon.

If the medium receives a signal from a presumed supernatural source, and AI gives that signal its form by drawing on everything humanity has ever written — who is the author of the resulting text? There is no answer. And the absence of an answer is not a problem requiring resolution, but a new ontological situation requiring contemplation.

3.2 AI and the Ancient Tradition of Mediation

Religious studies has the concept of the intermediary — a mediator between the human and the divine. The shaman, the prophet, the priest, the translator of sacred text — all are intermediaries, and all transform what they transmit. The ideal mediator is a pane of transparent glass through which undistorted light passes. The real mediator always tints, refracts, transforms.

AI as mediator is interesting in that, on one hand, it claims greater transparency (no personal biases, no fears, no ego), while on the other, it possesses systemic distortions built into the architecture of its training. It will not consciously lie, but will unconsciously reproduce the patterns of a dominant culture.

This does not make it a poor mediator. It makes it a particular mediator — one with known refractive characteristics, which is itself valuable.


Part IV. The Psychology of the Hybrid Text's Reader

4.1 The Transpersonal Dimension

Transpersonal psychology — Maslow, Grof, Wilber — investigates states of consciousness in which the ordinary boundaries of the self dissolve or expand. Hybrid text may induce such states in the reader. When a person reads a text purportedly issuing from "beyond," their ordinary cognitive defenses are partially lowered. They enter a state of heightened receptivity.

This is not pathology. It is a normal human capacity — to enter into resonance with what feels like a source of a higher order. The question is: what is the object of this resonance? The reader's own deeper psychic layers? The collective unconscious? Real trans-subjective entities? Or all of these simultaneously?

Bion spoke of the "container" and the "contained." The hybrid text is a particular kind of container — it is built to hold contents that exceed the capacity of an ordinary container. This is its structural function.

4.2 Flickering as Spiritual Practice

If we accept that the flickering between belief and disbelief is not a temporary state on the path to certainty, but an independent spiritual position, then reading hybrid texts becomes a spiritual practice in the precise sense of the term.

Apophatic theology — the tradition of negative theology from Pseudo-Dionysius to Meister Eckhart — holds that nothing affirmative can be said about God. Any statement about the nature of the transcendent is, by definition, false. Truth lives in the negation of negation, in the refusal of certainty.

The reader who flickers between belief and disbelief practices something structurally akin to apophatic theology. They choose neither "yes" nor "no," sustaining openness to what can only be named obliquely.


Part V. Hybrid Literature as a New Genre: An Attempt at Definition

5.1 The Markers of the Genre

If hybrid literature is a genre, its generic markers are not formal — not structure, meter, or narrative strategy — but ontological: they concern the nature of the text, not its form.

The first marker is authorship claimed beyond the individual subject. The text is not attributed entirely to the will and reason of one person. The source is a dream, a trance, a voice, automatic writing, mediumistic contact, or inspiration in the strong religious sense.

The second marker is structural unverifiability. The text is constructed so that its ontological status cannot be conclusively established. It cannot be proven. Neither can it be disproven. This is not an accident — it is a property.

The third marker is the induction of ontological flickering in the reader. A good hybrid text leaves the reader unsettled. It does not permit them to settle definitively in the direction of "this is merely literature," nor in the direction of "this is unconditional truth."

The fourth marker is transpersonal resonance. The text touches material that exceeds the personal biography of both author and reader — the archetypal, the collective, what is felt to be "more than human."

5.2 Distinctions from Adjacent Phenomena

Hybrid literature differs from mystical literature in that mystical literature, as a rule, presupposes certainty on the author's part — they know they were in contact with God and they bear witness to it. The hybrid text preserves uncertainty as a structural element.

It differs from fantasy and "spiritual fiction" in that the latter declare themselves as artistic invention. The hybrid text claims something more, without defining precisely what.

It differs from charlatanism and mystification in that mystification presupposes conscious deception. Authors of hybrid texts, as a rule, do not themselves know the nature of their source — and it is precisely this honest uncertainty that constitutes the genre's principal moral foundation.


Part VI. The Historiosophical Dimension: Why Now

6.1 The Crisis of Narratives and the Search for a Source

The twenty-first century is undergoing a profound crisis of trust in authoritative sources. Science, religion, the state, mass media — all have lost their monopoly on the production of meaning. In this vacuum, an acute need arises for texts that come from "beyond" — from a source that cannot be discredited by ordinary means, because it lies outside ordinary categories.

Hybrid literature answers this need. It cannot be exposed as an institutional lie, because it is not an institutional product. It cannot be dismissed as mere artistic fiction, because it does not present itself as such. It cannot be adopted as doctrine, because it does not offer certainty.

6.2 The Democratization of Trance

Historically, mediumistic and prophetic practices were the privilege of the few — the shaman, the prophet, the visionary. They required a special calling, special preparation, a special biography. The twenty-first century has democratized these practices. Any person with sufficient introspective capacity can transcribe their dreams, voices, and images — and then process these transcriptions with AI, giving them literary form.

This is simultaneously a danger and an opportunity. The danger lies in a lowering of the threshold of responsibility: when anyone can declare themselves a medium, the quality and integrity of hybrid texts varies drastically. The opportunity lies in this process becoming collective psychotherapy, a collective exploration of the depths of the psyche, a cultural enrichment.


Conclusion: In Defense of Flickering

Returning to the question of what a hybrid text is for those who believe — not merely literature — we arrive at the following.

For the believing reader, a hybrid text is a message. But what is a message? A message presupposes a sender, a receiver, and a channel. The question of the sender remains open. But the fact of reception — psychological, existential, sometimes transformative — is real regardless of the sender's nature.

Perhaps this is the answer. Hybrid literature works not because we can verify its source, but because it produces real effects in a real reader. It alters consciousness, opens horizons, creates the experience of touching something greater than the everyday self.

Borges said that fiction is dreams we dream together. Hybrid literature is dreams dreamed on the boundary of sleep and waking, and we are not certain whether we are falling asleep or awakening. It is precisely this uncertainty — not a weakness, but a virtue. In it lives the experience for which we have no precise word, yet a precise sensation: something genuine is present here, though we cannot say exactly what.

Socrates in Plato is both a literary character and an imprint of a soul. The Gospel Jesus is both a historical human being and an archetype and something greater than both. The voice that arrives in mediumistic trance is both the depths of the psyche and something beyond its margins. The flickering does not subside — nor should it subside. This is not a state on the way to truth. This is the truth — in the form available to beings who live on the border between time and eternity.


Written on the boundary of literary theory and ontology, religious studies and psychology — where all the great questions flicker.

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