To Dream in Red is to Uncover the Veil of Consciousness

Judge

"Yesterday, I had a dream – I had a dream about you. You were 40 or 50 years old…and you were happy."

Student

"Do your dreams come true?"

Judge

"It’s been years since I’ve had a really pleasant dream." 

Dialogue between the two principal characters in the classic filmmaking masterpiece "Three Colors: Red" by Krzysztof Kieslowski

Along these lines of artistic development towards a pseudo-scientific theory of colour, the iconic German poet, Goethe, produced a volume entitled, "Theory of Colours". While not being received as proper theoretical discourse by the scientific community, this was Goethe's prideful involution into the realm of human experience beyond the sublimities of intellectual life. 

Should your glance on mornings lovely
Lift to drink the heaven's blue
Or when sun, veiled by sirocco,
Royal red sinks out of view –
Give to Nature praise and honor.
Blithe of heart and sound of eye,
Knowing for the world of colour
Where its broad foundations lie.
— Goethe

(Quoted from Wikipedia article, "Theory of Colours")

Also, see my previous post: Reflection on Zbigniew Preisner's "Silence, Night and Dreams"

_________

I wake with eyes closed. I won’t open. I can’t look. The bed feels dishearteningly unlike where I know myself to be in my present life, yet strangely familiar to the one bedroom I never wanted to wake in again. It’s my father’s, and stepmother’s.

Bedroom in Arles by Van Gogh

Cat litter sheets and the nauseous sky pelt the window by my ear, as I smell the cheap havoc about in tepid condensation of humidity, a feeling of being too close to home, where abuse reigns on every familial plane, as a tree bespattered with the lifeless trembling of a deadly morning earthquake.

The woman at the window by Jozef Israels

I sink deeper, and the outdoors opens as an unsheathed bronze, polished and brandished for timely wielding about the nascent plain of equal hue, enlightened by the western sun. As a beckoning from Manifest Destiny herself, I trudge through the yonder horizon with a mind for exploratory happiness, in pursuit of the ear and chaff of corn and grain, the dizzying panorama of emptied wilderness, where the Vanishing Indian now only lives as a politically corrected name.

Westward Ho! by Emanuel Leutze

I tip my hat squarely to the north with scythe in hand. I wander through the flooding dusk lit pasture, a son of the mindless hate staring me in the back, now buried in the lightless flat of night’s self-awakening. 

This and two other dream narratives (21st Century Space Race of Sustainable Housing & Mindscapes Interpenetrate Dream with Reality) feature subconscious experience surfacing amid the sensual spheres of daily waking.

_________

The western pathway to slavery lies feebly
over the chasm
         As a vile whore reminds us
         to put grace before prayer

In motionless wonder,
personifying the lush diligence of an ancient society
         Dismembered at the plan of a cursed monotony
               To stare into the black façade
               and feel dreams slip through sleep,
                         In and out

excerpt from "Blind Daemon"

The Dark Ages Revivified by the Colour of Welsh Dream-Lore

Pont-Rhyd-y-groes, the bridge over the Ystwyth

"As soon as sleep had come upon his eyes, it seemed to him that he was journeying with his companions across the plain of Argyngroeg and he thought that he went towards Rhyd y Groes on the Severn...this tale is called the Dream of Rhonabwy...no one knows the dream without a book, neither bard nor gifted seer; because of the various colours that were upon the horses, and the many wondrous colours of the arms and of the panoply, and of the precious scarfs, and of the virtue-bearing stones."

- excerpt from The Mabinogion by Lady Charlotte Guest

________

Emerging from the final step of competitive glares and adolescent misdirection from the fair of scholastic races, I flee a field trip in Boston with a bunch of docile, bored Canadian tourists. These are my old stomping grounds, and I know a restaurant where my brother’s reputable. So, I saunter over.

The restaurant owner gladly greets me with the warmth of an old family friend. His restaurant, of aesthetics, which call to the sleek mindfulness of the Netherlands, is overwhelmingly chic in its opulent splendor. Utilizing just a small space, he manages to accommodate the finest tastes of the city.

As I step out over a neat veranda, I see the resplendent visage of architectural prowess, gathered from a hillock vista overlooking the downtown core. Majestic crimson checkers and dazzling cerulean pillars angle with perfected arches and pristine domes. The city has sure gained a wealth of ingenious focus. Staring out over the brink of the ocean cliffs, the Atlantic assuredly behind me, I gather my eyes, besotted with the dizzying color palette of form in the buildings below.

After quickened absorption in the wealth of tones outside below, I clamber upstairs into a hollowed attic within the restaurant. There, I am met with hostility from a ghost and small red fox, which to my contempt, I kill over the metal ledge of a bed. Stupefied by the unintended violence, I climb into a top bunk and lay to rest. The ghosts may transcend the locks, and the smell of dead flesh is their very calling.

_______

Interpretation: Experiments With Conventional Dream Definition 

After contemplating the recent series of interpretations based on the application of generic dream dictionary usage, I have experienced the truth that in fact, the interpretation is in the writing, that meaning that in creatively writing the dream with imaginative insight into the narrative structure and enlightening detail, the interpretation is made, not as a definition or forecast, but as an act of creative impression in the waking mind of the public collective, where art and dream interfuse in a subtle rendering of meaning in the act of envisioning the import of the imagery on waking, through conscious language, yet still poetically, in a language that minds the unconscious relativity of creation, as a holistic creative act in tune with the entire phenomenal experience of being human. That finally, the dream and its interpretation are one.

_______

and so the strung chords of the world's birthing are plucked
duly, with grand motion over the starboard ocean rains
tunneling into a thunderous vision,
the pierced hawk
eyeing ground from atop the archaic skies of timeless dream,
the soundless above slips beyond the social canopy

...

our once upraised wilderness
now chained
to European drug lust

- excerpts from "I, Internalize My Body" 

Vibrant Dream Colours from Water Fasting

Fasting & Dream - Water & Lime cleanse, 7 days

Details: dreams are very realistic, relaxing without unusual, frightening tangents, if I noticed weather, colors or textures in the dream it was always very pristine, a lot of conversation style dreams, where when I haven’t fasted I don’t recall ever having dreams when conversations ever made sense or went anywhere, though conversations in dreams when water fasting was similar to having a conversation in daily life, it wasn’t disjointed or restricting, speech was very flowing, surroundings are extraordinarily vivid and lucid, upon eating again, bad dreams return...

_______

An Iranian friend, steeped in the tragic wisdom of silence, broods in a shadowy corner. His long Sufi beard and uncut hair masks him in an aura of incredulous perfection, looking from stolid eyes at my cowering brother. We are in a room of ghastly hosts, a live auction of sorts, only to entice participants in creative performance. “Create art to reflect your dearest love relationship!” The auctioneer steams with cacophonous temptation. My love stands upon the stage, white and delicate. Throwing myself in a purge of color and form, I choose vermillion, ebony and a touch of cobalt. The canvas thins over a pale, dried grass and carpet springing untamed from the welcoming floor. Without impediment, I stretch a rudimentary sheath of black over the rough medium. Paint filters in between the cracks as I begin to include a light bluish, red-bordered sailboat along the top of the canvas. I draw with unknown talent, creating instantaneous angles and exacting renditions of my sailing ego upon a clashing infinitude of ocean waves. The ebony drips flat with humongous brush strokes into the saturated grass and carpet thread, conveying icy death in the storm clouds beyond. The ship tosses, animate in the innumerable play of dancing strain on the veld of sea and sky. Livid vermillion lies agape near the sun-opened crests, stark, aflame, directing the sail away from the inexorable closing of opaque storm ahead. I embrace my love, unafraid.  

_______

Painting

"Dreams about painting often signify renewal and emotional growth for the dreamer...The painting is symbolic of your intuition and inner realizations." (iDream)

_______

“A beautiful body

gone cold with death,

yet still contained in glad purpose

towards another weary world decay

feeding sacred bushes that smoke & thin in the desert winter

blinded on sandy beaches, hidden beneath a glade & cliff,

as profaned skeletal thunderbirds fly with mouths shut

before a lunar god dreams a song inside another human.”

All so caught up and timed

each finger presses against her hair

and her snoring wink uncovers a madness in spring

bringing together all things in the mystery of continuity

- excerpt from "Repeated Dance of the Fluid Earth"