first dream
Year 2011
Year 2011
I mono and I'm accompanied by a monkey. We are united by some kind of emotional bond that can not be named as eroticism, passion or friendship. It's a strange feeling that binds us so hard and uncertain. Fear has been guiding us through this labyrinth of rooms that we cover and describe a journey in which I am like a teacher who reveals secrets to his disciple just know, without meditation or sober distance, the ideas spouted the party breath from the exertion. This precariousness of my expertise, our relationship is more egalitarian and compassionate than hierarchical. We could say we're two monkeys existentialist fleeing terrible danger, and in this situation, I have had to go ahead, show me ignorance and clumsiness in the form of wisdom. I'm a monkey in charge of their duties. Do not ask me how to be responsible in the world of dream world that only with great effort supports an interpretation. But the fact is that I live in the dream-laden monkey responsibility for the monkey.
Being a teacher and existentialist mono means that I perceive myself more as a place of ignorance stammer than an expert source. Tao a cracked vessel, with flakes that are the syllables of a crossword Dada. Mono unusual to feel lost even in a dream and having to simulate safety and teaching because the other needs you. I'm not yet spiritually prepared for such an ethical metamorphosis. A monkey faced with an epic esthete ethics without having read Kierkegaard.
I said I was a monkey but it would be more accurate to say that in my dream I see myself as a man trapped in the body and the soul of a monkey. I perceive myself as one of the commanders gorilla film Planet of the Apes but without the intelligence or language ability. O has not yet sprouted, or perhaps has been lost in the shadows. Hairy as Gregor Samsa in place did wake insect mono and had gradually been losing humanizing traits. Guerrilla a girl that god punished by a curator or dealer-male, was unable to drop the mask, being condemned to be featured circus freak. In humans we only have eyes and a tremulous piety reflected in them scared. And fear.
These are, therefore, two monkeys running away from ourselves or others, of our monstrous bestiality or living in the heart of some god or cruel man. She and I we move into a closed maze formed by connecting rooms with small windows and other passages as a cattery or skylights. Leave a room to reach another climbing walls faded much like someone painted or papered many years. All construction debris and threat means collapse. We went from one compartment to another lest the ground sinks or we catch the crash that follows our movements. And we do it obsessively - as things happen in dreams - and to exhaustion. Monkeys are not skilled and navigate the maze of rooms we are tired and accentuates our fears.
stop because my companion We can not go a step further. I take the break to show two objects that I put in my lap: a revolver and a cordless phone. I think I can not speak in human consciousness and my explanations run over run by a middle way between telepathy and gestures (Strange line, closer to the illusion than anything else, that occurs when two eyes afraid to cross!). I tell my co-disciple who never know whether to pull the trigger the gun fires a bullet. Sometimes Gatillazo only hear the firing pin in a vacuum. In other cases, the gunpowder explodes and we, as monkeys are, afraid to shout to the ground by pulling the gun display by our simian nature. I make several attempts and, indeed, the fourth or fifth shot hit the gun trigger and my partner and I scream like monkeys. It is a humbling experience having to do this ritual because, in our human background, vaguely understand that there is nothing to be afraid.
Something similar happens with the phone. Sometimes, pressing one of the keys, appears the voice of someone articulating words. However, we do not understand your message - if it is offered - and we have no possibility to understand if the speaker gives tips dictatorial or democratic orders for our good. We do not understand their language but felt, with tears in their eyes, that language was ours in the past or could become so in the future. This nostalgia and fear of being discovered us to remain silent when the voice comes from the handset, which, as I said, does not always happen.
My partner is very tired. Something tells me it has been surrendered and that will not leave this room. I look at the gun and the phone. I think in a maze like this gun should be used to kill Minotaurs or break open doors. However, never have the assurance that the next shot will be in a vacuum or a bullet will explode. Do not even know if there are more bullets. The phone, on the other hand, should allow us to ask for help. But the shame I speak, could not bear the humiliation of having my partner thought the other side of the phone is a monkey.
Sweat makes us ugly. I know I should leave my partner. I dare not kiss him. No I would remind you that the went past human or, hopefully, we could be in the future. It is more humane to shoot in the head. Even cry or molesting his weakness before escaping to other rooms. To relax and ejaculate a little afraid before going, alone, walking.
And these I wake up with a strange sensation in the mouth.
King Kong Love (John Barry, 1976)
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