You’re vaguely familiar with all the particulars that will and can happen, but can’t hold them all in your mind at once, so no thing surprises you when it passes before your eyes, but you still react.
Other people still exist, but no thing they say feels new, or unexpected. Not because you can predict or expect what they say, but because everyone occupies the same relation to reality, the same relation to existence. So when they speak, it’s of what is, or what was, or what will be.
No new thing is possible, but experience still exists, so it takes on its own, novel quality, but no thing in particular possesses it, just a feeling, vaguely entwined with all of experience.
Uncertainty, still exists, but only as a sense, a feeling, because what would happen hasn’t happened yet, and what has happened cannot change. It’s that glimpse as the moment slips from the future into the past, a way to relate to existence. Without it, reality wouldn’t feel real at all.
You’ve ventured into the known.