P.K. Dick is Shiva, creator and destroyer of worlds...
Dick was an incredible Sci-Fi writer, but his personal life, became the main source of his fiction...his fiction was his reality, and his reality had many faces, so many faces in fact, that he couldn't keep track of them all; he didn't know if he had gone insane, been visited by a god or gods, was a victim of a Russian ESP thought project, was a guinea pig for the CIA, an enemy of the state, was conversing with a star, or some kind of Vast Intelligence System that was trying to impart secret knowledge to him: that world we see (the Black Iron Prison) is an illusion (Maya) that has been imposed on the "true world," a much better place (the Beautiful Garden Paradise).
He was a believer and a skeptic, some times from one paragraph to the next. He was constantly trying all these parallel universes on for size. It seems his imagination and empathy for his characters and their worlds was so finely developed that he couldn't help from plunging into other worlds and realities head first. All this is so intruiging and stimulating and evocative. It does seem clear that there is more than meets the eye to the world we live in, it does seem clear that we are hypnotized by a false world of materiality. Is it possible a brilliant, amphetimine-addled, "trashy" Sci-Fi writer, could be pointing us to a deeper truth?