I like the feeling of dream, the look of dream, the words of dream, the music of dream, the LSD of dream. I like the blur, the opacity, and the glow of dream. I like the strange wrong flawed perfect images of dream that sometimes tell a strange wrong flawed perfect truth.
All roiled up, that’s what I am right now. Trying to work out the meaning of dream — not the specific meaning of a particular dream, not chasing dream interpretation — but trying to understand why I dream, why I have to dream. So I am making a list, a list that looks like this:
When I dream I:
1-find solutions to problems (find problems to solutions);
2-find answers to questions (find questions to answers);
3-go to far away places (and also to places just around the corner);
4-learn things I didn’t know I didn’t know (and learn things I didn’t know I needed to know);
5-find catharsis (without parenthetical aside)
Now I am making a second (shorter) list. It looks like this:
1-”I believe in deeply ordered chaos.” — Francis Bacon
2-”Il y a un autre monde mais il est dans celui-ci” (“There is another world but it is in this one”) — Paul Éluard
The Francis Bacon thing? Wow. It’s an article of faith for me, the importance of deeply ordered chaos. Deeply ordered chaos — that’s what dream is, really, isn’t it? And the apparent disjoint between those two things — how can chaos be ordered? — is immensely seductive, a problem I return to over and over again, that I stroke and cosset, that I whisper sweet nothings to. I want to connect it to the deeply ordered chaos of the fractal, very much I want to make it connect up that way. I can’t seem to formulate the formulation tho’, not adequately. Maybe I should sleep on it. Hah! Hah!
As for the Éluard thing, well, goddamn! that is in my brain kind of just about all the time. What is that other world he refers to? Huh? I think it must be the world of the imagination or the world of dream. I think tapping into that other world is immense and beautiful and terrifying. I think it is the goal to strive for, always, the destination to head for, always. I crave that place, even as I don’t, even as I am afraid to go there. Which of course reminds me of running. Running is hard work. To do it is to court physical pain and never to be disappointed — the pain will come, always. To do it is to court mental and emotional upheaval, and, again, never to be disappointed. I look for reasons not to go for a run because it seems so crazy to go voluntarily, to go if you haven’t been conscripted. But I do go, because to be pulled apart by running is to find revelation, sometimes — which is true of dream, too.
“Il y a un autre monde mais il est dans celui-ci.” I want to find that place and make that place and go to that place. I do. And I do. And I do.
Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo:
Edited to add this video, with many thanks to commenter Barbara for bringing it to my attention.
Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie:
From the series Cinema of In Between STILLS by Rosa Mathijssen Via Rosa Mathijssen
Untitled by Kenichi Hoshine graphite, gesso, acrylic emulsion, tea, shellac on canvas mounted on wood (22"x20") Via Kenichi Hoshine