Consciousness is an Exquisite Liar

Consciousness is an exquisite liar. “I am real, the essences and the bloom of substance, all the florid details and the concrete unchanging substance and truths of the world come universe.”, and then behind the curtain - the curtain is discovered, the curtain so pervasive, so innocuous, so dead plain, so ever present it is invisible and opaque except... can  be seen an alien world so weird, so bizarre it begs credibility. Consciousness is slyly cunning, telling us what we want to hear, reassuring our confidence, not out of malice, or greed, or consideration of our being but out of plain steely economy. But, what is the ebb and flow of the minutia out which all things are.