Shall I lie upon the couch, arms folded, recite to you the dream that has
dogged my earliest days ?
The world is a raised grid spread as far as the eye can see. In each square
a small red sphere bounces up and down. The strobe light flickers on and
My world has nothing conscious in it. It is insensate to cold
or heat. It is not the indecipherability of this dream that frightens me.
There is nothing abstruse or complex; there is nothing to decipher. It is
all too simple. The grid is clearly drawn, the movement is random, variable,
binary. I have been attempting to attribute meaning and reason to a world
in which the rules are amazingly primitive, the motions simple, yet unpredictable.
The strobe light flickers on and off. Grey, white, blue or red.
I have dreamt it so many times that it is now a mimetic image, etched on
the inner lids of my eye.
Each time I dream this, the senselessness of my life becomes apparent and
the comfort of philosophy, religion and human companionship fall away. It
is the conviction of dreams that fascinate me--because the emotions that
arise from the situations are so indisputable. It becomes clear that I have
lost my mind and wasted my life attempting to attribute values to a world
in which all things are random, variable. Brownian movement. I am even afraid
to die simply because I am afraid that death will be simply this and nothing
more, the same grid. No eyelids. And all these works of so called genius
are merely the finger exercises of minds which can only partially express
or comprehend the glimpse of what they have envisioned. Our identity is
a deck of cards. when we think, we shuffle our cards. We are not personalities
but simply habits, conglomerated, opinions fastened to one another like
the beards on oysters, the tiny suctioning fingers of ivy. Without this,
we would fall apart into disparate thoughts, floating without context, a
colony of opinions, voices, ages. And each moment of our lives has been
recorded, filed in the seemingly endless drawers of our mind---a complact
blue or red ball bouncing up and down.
How shall I catch up with you?
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