To all the inhabitants, it is like a light-switch being flipped on-off-on-off, a few times a second, like a strobe at an underground rave, leaving all the inhabitants DRUNK by their confusion, writhing about on the floor in pain. This is called, the Suffering of Not-knowing.
Put enough people in a dark box [room, planet, solar system, what-have-you], and feed them an unbroken stream of Slumberverse Stories™, and they can actually stay relatively occupied trying to "figure it all out", for sixty or seventy or more years without experiencing the "Flinch of the Nearly Awakened" - believe it or not!
Earth is such a place - a Slumberverse™ - and the chief commodity of the inhabitants is language - "The Language of Dreams" and all the rest of it - in a continual in-out-in-out flow of partially digested mental excreta - from one to the others, and from the others to one - which, to the more-sensitive noses of the Nearly Awake, smells like the other kind of excreta they know so well.
Their motto, en masse - sounding a bit like the background HUM of high-tension electrical wires overhead, that can be heard for miles - is: "Does anybody really know what's going on here?" (And by "here", they actually mean, "in my mind.")