Primarily a writing exercise, this dream journal-inspired blog is a quiet introspective sojourn into the process that we traverse in going from private dream to public art. I see our dreaming as an internalized mythmaking. As I philosophize and expressively exhibit dreams, both private and public, I encourage and delight in creative language as a way to practice experiential metaphors through a “public dreaming." Writing Theory: Creative Dream Fiction

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Malaika! Mama Africa Malaika!

"Little bird, I dream of you, little bird / Little bird, I dream of you, little bird"

- from "Malaika" favorite song of Miriam Makeba, also known as Mama Africa

“It all started when we began busking” she eyed me cruelly, feeling distant as ever while my scanning eyes pierce through the dizzying array of salacious bodies. The cutting immensity of decadence harbored on this night pours into our uniquely sized and filled glasses with an escalating temperament, roiling above our heads as a foreboding torrent.

I call into my childhood school from Alberta. Anxious as ever, I need to cover a deadline, before the end of spring. “I will not be present! Count me out!” as my letters turn to poetic dissertations on the finality of my language experiments, careening over a maelstrom of an ill-conceived message.

Back at the opulent restaurant table in Calgary, different sized glasses and their respective bottles and pints adorn our dining area. High end whiskeys, beers and wines flow into the embittered majestic glares at the end of a Canadian winter, survived now in the meager worries of our sex-pampered minds. My wife beside, is marked by an intense anxiety.

Exiting the table, I endeavor through night-fallen passes in these drought-severed western plains. Magically, the air breathes with otherworldly hosts. A threesome of burka-clad young girls strides deliberately from an outstretched grove, slowly needing life to burst through its seams of wintry bark. They disappear at the edge of a mysteriously placed river. The night is confident upon its paramount hour on which it enshrouds the hidden world in a veil of the spectacular above. I find a clearing. The new moon tears into the sky with quiet appeal, yet the starlight and planet’s reflections intermingle upon the wooly grass. The aura of Venus, Source of Love, kisses Jupiter, God of Power. 
"Dreaming about planets could represent desire to explore either our internal world or the world of our egos (the external or physical world). Planets could also represent deeper things such as the way that we relate to ourselves. They can say something about the relationship that exists between our soul and ego...if what Carl Jung said is true, all dream images bring us back to issues of self-identity and profound understanding of self." (iDream)
“majestic beauty of rushed earth” 

the Arab quest 

rinsed of ritual hatred

ancient as the dust 

into the flux of a speedy end

“arisen to stone but failed
shrank to mist and sold mazes for tears”

- excerpt from "Rushed Earth"

1 comment:

  1. Positively incantatory writing here. The dream prose here is especially unique and exciting -- a style to explore (since the work of conceiving so many "ill-conceived messages). There is only the divine shining through our tiny eyeholes; everything else is expendable.