People believe in all sorts of things. We're a credulous species.
We believe in homeopathy, flying horses, virgin births, magic underpants, that the garden of Eden was in Missouri. That the universe was created a thousand years after the Mesopotamians had invented beer, by a deity obsesssed with Palestine who hates gay people and for reasons unknown absolutely forbids the wearing of cotton and wool at the same time. We believe when our brain cells die, the consciousness that resides within them magically not only survives without said brain cells, but that it travels to some invisible astral plane where, as luck would have it, all the people we liked happen to be there too* and none of the people we didn't like can get in.
In fact we believe so much arrant nonsense that it's harder to come up with an idea that someone somewhere won't believe.
*I've never got a satisfactory answer from an afterlife enthusiast on whether when you go to Heaven, you turn up at the Pearly Gates the same age you died -or you get to pick an age. Be weird for those looking forward to seeing their favourite kindly old grandparent if said grandparent was a surly teenager again and younger than the grandchild. Or what if when you die you're stuck with the age and shape you're in when you die? That'd suck if you died from morbid obesity or wasted away to nothing from cancer like my parents did. That'd be a good argument for killing yourself early while you're still in good shape.
Or maybe you just turn into balls of light. But then where do you keep your stuff? Do you even need stuff on an Astral Plane? If not, what do you *do* all day?
So many questions...
