This is a story about dreams.
About whispers and unbroken thoughts.
This is a story about hope.
What is it about dreams that lets us peek into the future?
That lets us tell the fortune to the fortune teller.
That lets us…
… Crave sound proof bullet vests for
coercive invincible replies
to your childhood trauma.
When I was child I used to have this recurring dream. I would go down the rabbit hole of sleep and enter this green pine tree forest. I would walk in a straight line until I found a small path surrounded by thousands and thousands of arum-lilies. Following this path I would arrive at this round glade. At the center of this glade there was a medieval stone fountain. Surrounding this fountain there were fairies and elves. Dancing, singing, chanting. One of them would say: Hi Rita, nice to see you again. And there I would stay hours on end until I would wake up. Every other week, when I fell asleep I would come back to this place, where all the creatures would be waiting for me, asking: Where have you been Rita? We had been waiting for you.
I had this dream until I was 14.
(SINGS)
Until 4 years later, when I was 18. I went to bed. fell asleep. I walked 1 hour through the green pine tree forest, I went past the thousands and thousands of arum-lilies and I entered the glade with the fountain. But this time, I was alone. The fountain was empty, crooked and abandoned.
I woke up.
(SINGS)
I used to dream about my mother’s eyes upon me. Inquisitive. Disapproving. It wasn’t my mother if that makes sense to you. It was as if you looked in the mirror and you didn't recognize your own image. What eyes are this that watch me without permission?
I always knew how to give permission to those who ask what about those who don’t?
(Water movement sounds)
I never thought of this dream again. Or at least for the upcoming 3 years.
I had moved back to my mother’s house. My childhood house, in the countryside. One day my mother asked me to go with her on a walk, and I said: - Sure! Why not?
And I walked with her. We walked and walked. We walked for like 15 minutes. In a straight line.
What was that?!
We got to this place with dozens and dozens of lilies. Arum-lilies to be precise.
I walked to a path in the middle and… and … and I thought… I thought … the fountain?
In front of me there was a dog. There was a big big dog, one eye red, one eye blue… he didn’t let me go through…
I went back home.
The next day I decided to go back and take my camera with me. Determined to register this place, that was for so many years physically so close to me, yet the only memory I had of it existed only in my childhood dreams.
And so I walked through the forest until I got to the lilies. I took out my camera, ready to document this place and… In front of me, the dog. One eye red, one eye blue. Wouldn’t let me go through. It’s like he was saying no pictures allowed, no pictures allowed.
What happens when you cannot take pictures?
How do you document reality?
How do you shape the revolution?
How do you become Catharsis?
How do you fight?
And that was it.
A fire place.
Never to be lost and never to be found.
A Burning fire that neither extinguishes nor deceives.
I’ve been thinking about war lately.
I’ve been thinking about my government.
I’ve been thinking about your government.
And when you say:
I have to take a stepback. I cannot deal with this anymore.
I have to take a stepback. I cannot deal with this anymore.
I have to take a stepback. I cannot deal with this anymore.
And you start falling asleep and if you are like me you lose all the control you have over your body and saliva starts dripping out of your mouth, leaving this pillow soaking wet.
Oh wait, have I said this before. I have. Do you remember? Not here, not now.
aaaa
nevermind, nevermind
I have to take a stepback. I cannot deal with this anymore.
I have to take a stepback. I cannot deal with this anymore.
Forgetting how to act in this world.
This is not a step back!
(SINGS)