Life begins and ends in the unconscious; the actions we carry out while fully lucid are only little islands in an archipelago.
No existence can be completely rendered in its happiness or its madness without taking into account oneiric experiences.*1
a creation / a vision
marked by abstraction or release from reality
it comes true
Was it ever not true?
a strong desire
something that fully satisfies me
i had a series of thoughts,
i indulge my fantasies
i IMAGINE a possibility :
floating around, hiding somewhere, appearing randomly,
Should I talk with you or about you?
because you seem to be a form of life.
Have we talked too much about you?
i don’t think so
I feel the need to speak to you as an entity, an assembled but knotted creature
in which threads of near and distant memories tangle and untangle themselves.
it is an intelligence that sometimes seems foreign, coming from... where are you coming from?
it might be very close, it might be remote…
if for a moment during wakefulness everything was a dream
how would this whole thing we are living be?
And how do I explain to myself that what I am living is not a dream?
I look at my hands
and then I see yours
and they still the same
and i jump three times and i
"dreams are like tofu"
and i take the metro
and i go to work
suddenly i forgot about all this
but then you visit me at night
i lost i won i got scared
don’t tell me about it
maybe now i want to know
I fabricate a nightmare
I get eaten, I get killed, I cry, I suffer, did I die?
I was just preparing myself
I was practising
I live with my family or
I'm visiting my grandmother's house or
maybe I am on vacation or
all of these options at once, which keep changing.
There are three small furry dogs running around...
I seek privacy in a room,
I am naked and I start moving furniture around,
a sofa, mattresses, pillows…
There is a knock on the door.
My grandmother wants to watch TV while she waits for the guests,
I let her in, because… I like the idea of watching TV with my grandmother.
But finally I go to the courtyard,
where the three little dogs are,
two of them kind of jump on me,
one of them, white and hairy, starts to "mate" with my leg.
He gets a little annoying, so I kick him to get him off me.
suddenly the third puppy,
which is grey and super cute,
appears in the picture again,
And it looks like he is getting softer and softer,
and I can feel how he smells,
it is like shampoo, like the hair of a new doll.
The transformation continues
until he becomes a kind of koala
and hugs me.
After that, the transition is confusing,
We are playing a video game
I don't know which one or how it is supposed to be played.
The little koala dog talks to me: he says something like:
“ I need to have some tea to keep playing!”
and I answer:
Is chamomile tea okay?
You know how to be a high precision mechanism.
Your solutions are decipherable in multiple registers, provided you work on constantly shifting the usual angle of vision.
Brilliant wordplay, images connected to each other like a braided bridge over trauma,
i forget you,
this recovered memory says exactly what, in a constant way, I refuse in the everyday.*2
You constitute one of the first personal stories of which we have a written trace.
You precede the novel which, in turn, links the real with interiority.
However, by placing yourself always in the "night" of reason, you are linked to the territory of confession, of presage, and you are invested with a dimension charged with occult powers. you offer to the merchants of power, of belief, a limitless surface to exploit.
I may be able to manipulate the ghosts, but I cannot act on you. Is there nothing left to do but confess?*2
To remember you is to consent to be in the presence of that which questions me.*2
you certify the value of a life. You validate the actions of the characters, their thoughts, their doubts, their ideals. It is the scene on which their interrogations and their tears appear. Room of echoes of the inner voice, it opens in the legend. the space of the marvellous which is also that of the monstrous.*2
What if we could summon a vaster intelligence of perception, which overflows consciousness on all sides?
That which informs your intelligence, and of which angels and geniuses are late and masterful figurations,
It would be like an ever-renewed call towards a conversion, whose possibilities of creation will be a constant challenge to the programmed closing of limitless horizons.*2
Hearing without Sound?
Some dream speaking/sounding is clearly aural while other such
phenomena is less so. For example, there are the words or phrases
that come that are simply understood with little or no overt sonic
content. One is aware of the words and the meanings during the
dream or upon awakening, without necessarily being cognisant of
the sounds of these words.
For example, I know my grandmother was communicating with me
in my last night's dreaming. But now that I think about it, I realise
it was coming on what might be called a telepathic level rather than
with audible words.*3
I once traveled back in time
to prevent my parents from meeting
at a Californian party
I gave my mother tongue kisses
like that exotic species of flies
that lay their eggs in people's ears.
I wanted to nest in her brain
so she would stop being just my mother
to become a celebrated lesbian poet
with fever-colored eyes, convulsive beauty
and a fragility disguised with eccentric stagings
who would declaim elegies to her unborn daughter
before an audience of lizards
who would abandon their skin in the bath
and would fill her bathtub with cheap wine
and laudatory phrases
and dead poodles embalmed with black olives
and reheated food in little plastic saucers
and I didn't like
the whole time-traveling thing
in economy class
*1 - P.B.Preciado "Un departamento en Urano"
*2 - Modified texts based on Anne Dufourmantelle "La inteligencia del sueño"
*3 - IONE "Listening in dreams"
Translation of "Volver al futuro" by Ana Llurba "Este es el momento exacto en que el tiempo empieza a correr"