The Dream

(I am publishing purely as I am using this as a transcript for a surrealism performance tonight)

There is a city in my mind that I regularly visit when I dream. It is a city of many bridges and train tracks though never any train. This city is always familiar but never the same, the streets shift and the houses change color, buildings grow and collapse and sometimes there is a market where music plays.

On one of these visits to the city I was pulled towards a particular house, amongst all the others that were now pink this one was entirely made of masks, masks of feathers and of beads, masks large and of leather and some with teeth. They rattled as I approached.

Entering into the house revealed not an interior, not even a house at all. It had become a path winding up the side of a mountain. As I walked up the path I began to see people teeming about the opening of a cave. They were all naked. Because, naturally.

No one spoke as I went into the cave. A cave vast and vaulted where here and there appeared in small alcoves singular objects. In one alcove was a glowing orb on a pedestal. In another a book of blank pages and the last a vine on which grew white flowers that dripped blood.

It was given to me to understand in this cave amongst the naked people that here, here were all the secrets of the universe. I did not understand the secrets but there was a joy in being witness to them.

At the back of the cave was a small river and into it I went carried out on the water into a wide and ever widening river where I became a boat sailing past the city and under a bridge and into the setting sun.

Then, I woke up.