I have been to the depths of my dreams and back
...and it was fantastic.
As a total evacuation, everyone was called in. An infinite number of known and unknown people. Corridors and corridors of people.
An auditorium with endless sides. Only a big light blurring the depths. At one end of the axis, the stage. At the other, the entrance.
Memories in boxes. People in groups. The exchange of memories inside the boxes. Papers, drawn and annotated notebooks. A moment of genuine exchange, without judgements. Lots of tears. Tears of longing, of love, of union. Tears of beauty and life. Recognition, connection.
The sensation that everything is all right. Eyes that shine.
Finally, the farewell. Why is it that all good things end? Because the good is in that exchange, face to face, eye to eye. Hands that touch. Hugs.
An object, here and there, that contains the summary of a memory. Smells, touches, sensations, sounds, noises, flavors, tastes and images.
At the auditorium, the event seemed to be ending.
What was the event?
The event with several protagonists.
Everyone in the auditorium seemed confused, was it time to stay or to go?
As I have the habit of observing other people’s actions, I stop and observe.
I see a familiar face and go to her.
Not too long ago she was there, on the stage, but her presentation was interrupted. The event was ending in the same chaotic way it began. Lots of pushing around, crowds of people starting to move while others stayed sitting. Funny how humans think they rationalize so clearly, when in fact the tribal mentality never left us. To belong or not to belong, that is the question.
The familiar face is still there. She keeps talking, it seems like she’s reciting something, but little by little her energy seems to run out. Her mother, her partner and her family comes to carry her on their lap. I talk to her to see if she’s okay. Her eyes, dark green, very beautiful, gaze at points invisible to other eyes, moving in a lethargic manner. What must she be seeing?
I look back at the auditorium. I see a big movement towards the entrance.
Lots of boxes were left below the seats.
Lots of books, similar to encyclopedias, were also left over the boxes or seats.
And I remained there, waiting.
What happens after the big event?
Do more people come, do those who left come back?
I look around and see that the people who stayed are cleaning and organizing the room.
People of all kinds.
When they look at me, their faces seem to morph, in a kind of glitch, to another face. Everyone has my face and they’re all saying something in synchrony.
The message isn’t clear, but it seems to be represented in a moving image. Zero flattens until it becomes a line. Zeros and Ones. An infinite loop between existence and non-existence.
Hello my dearest people!
What you just read is a result of a process that I’ve been following almost every morning, the Morning Pages, suggested on the book The Artist’s Way.
In this case this is a dream I had recently, which I forced myself to write at 6am on an Wednesday, because of how much it amazed me.
Anyway, this a very interesting practice that I’ve been adding up to some morning scribbles. I highly recommend it if you’re someone that has millions of things on your mind at the same time and just want to release some of those thoughts.
Every once in a while some idea or text comes to the surface, which can be extremely valuable. Just remember you don’t have the obligation to show it to anyone >:)
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