Peruvian Hallucinations before the Muted North African Migrant’s Story

People and Landscape of Michoacan by Alfredo Zalce

Early Dream

I walk by a dim street in Latin America, seems very much like a bus stop sidewalk eatery in Mexico or a humble restaurant in the outskirts of a Peruvian city. Immediately outside the restaurant, a man is holding a relatively sophisticated looking, tall type jar. The jar reads something about Ayahuasca. I pass by the first time, however the second time, I drop a few coins in and receive a small bit of the Ayahuasca mix that this man is selling. I sit down in the restaurant, I feel as if I am with loved ones, good friends or my wife. We sit and I start to feel a bit woozy. Suddenly, I see a classical/jazz ensemble performing their music in a relatively nice hall setting immediately before me. I am making a mental commentary on the music. The effects seem to have subsided, as expected, I tell myself I am proved correctly that the Ayahuasca that was sold had no real effect.

Late Dream

I am at a seaside café on the Mediterranean. In some ways it reminds me of a small restaurant in Malibu, California that I went to with my brother. I sit down with an unidentified young woman and a man who resembles my old friend and colleague in Egypt, a Sudanese man. He also resembles an interviewee in Sudan who was asked about his return experiences to Sudan as a returning migrant from Egypt. The man begins speaking with me in Arabic about his father, his homeland, and a story regarding his village. The story is very interesting and has many features of local history and identity related to the man and his originating village. He is telling a story about fishing. I ask him to confirm with me that he is from Algeria, he nods. Just as I begin to translate the story for the other individual present, she begins talking over both of us to proclaim her ideas about racial barriers. The man seems disinterested, and I am somewhat bereft, though only wish to convey the man’s story and practice my translation efforts in relaying a beautiful, genuine story of home in the midst of migration and conflict.

Monday Oct, 3 2011

First Nations Non-Ordinary State on the Margins of Reserve Land

Arearea (Joyousness) by Paul Gaugin

Moonlit pathway over crumbled rock, the pathway is unstable, and at the edge of a typical social stability, between myself and the dog I hold on a leash and an older man walking beside. The path seems to balance between being on a First Nations reserve and the Western world, as I walk immediately on the broken stone, side of the reserve and the dog begins to become severely angry with me, he is getting awkward on the leash and the man beside me merely follows and emits calming vibrations as we continue along the path while I continue to try and take care of the dog. 

As we get out of the open moonlight and into the darker forest, other men appear in traditional ceremonial dress, half-naked, adorned with feathers and hide, there is one in the bush who seems to be involved in an intervention of non-ordinary states of consciousness, then there is a man walking towards us, I try and move my head and walk on the edge of the path to let him through, though his attitude is that of warmly welcoming us, and the elderly man beside me assures me. 

Next we find ourselves inside of a trailer; it is full of First Nations people who are dressed in modern day Western clothing, in a festive mood, regular with any other house off the reserve with a small crowd of young, vibrant people. The elderly man is recounting our steps to the trailer, and I communicate the difficulty of the dog. One young man with glasses and a light collared t-shirt begins to tell me the way to appease my dog, through dancing. 

I ask about the dance in a popular culture attitude, though he assures me about the effectiveness of the First Nation way to dance. He demonstrates, and suddenly the lights dim, and its as if he is in the archaic mold, an embodiment of animal spirit, in a slow and deliberate show of action and expression through the limbs, extremities and face, and the dog suddenly becomes docile. People laugh and they continue to be their lovely selves, I in awe. 

July 20, 2011

Dreaming in a Transitional State

I am currently in a transition period in life, living in a place where I'm not allowed work or study or do any sustainable human activity, as I am an immigrant in a liminal state, not unlike the dream state, where I see the contents of my mind as if I was fully present, however, I recognize, as I am recognized by society that I am not completely here, am I sleeping? 

I am emigrating from my original place, am I dreaming? I am creating myself anew in this world sparked by minds filling with the stuff of dream, to go beyond body, naturally. To dream is natural. Dream.