Here’s a dream
from last night.
I’m in a warren
of bookcases, piles of books, audio equipment, records, tapes, etc., in a
private archive of words and sounds. I’m busy tidying things. It’s all very
orderly, if eccentrically so. A young woman is looking through records
disinterestedly. I pull our a heavy plastic record, shaped like a soft-edged
triangle, and place it on a turntable. I’m not sure it will play, but I feel
confident. The record produces sounds including mouth popping. The woman begins
to nod listening. A man nearby begins to imitate the sounds. We all work
together, as band mates and archivists.
In one room, I
discover a glass case over an owl’s next below. I excitedly tell the others that
there are baby owls in the nest. They discourage me from looking at the owls,
as they’re covered in fungus. I return to find raccoons roaming around the
case, and decide the leave that area alone.
A young man is
searching for something specific. He doesn’t require assistance. I move around,
rearranging materials to encourage his “serendipitous discovery” of sounds and
words I find interesting. A number of others gather to talk and compare notes.
I try to reach around them to open my private stash to offer for his perusal. I
can’t reach to show him, so I indicate where he can find it.
Some of the
recordings seem purely arbitrary but relate to the chance in art, as in Fluxus.
I have a lot of material from a Czechoslovakian movement that we listen to in
order to perform and keep the form alive. I play one record of words and
sounds. One young woman gets up to dance. Two others join her. Their dance is
utterly joyful and in tune with nonsense. We’re all very connected.
I’m alone again,
baking for a large group. I mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. I’m
confidently playing with the recipe. I go back and forth to a garden for
ingredients. There, I have a flower that is of interest to an older military
man. I teach him about the flower’s properties. As I do, I play with the
petals. Arranged on one side, the flower looks like a spider. On another, like
a glove. Around the circumference, like a sun. The man is interested in what I
know about the flower but not interested in these games; he’s very no nonsense.
