Dream Sequence No. 2

Dream Sequence No. 2

Aristotle

384 – 322 B.C.

 

In this dream Aristotle lies stricken, felled by the thought that many of his words, and works, will not survive his time, later Times, or time.[1]

(The Author requests the Reader’s patience, for here I translate from the Greek in a literal fashion.)

Aristotle cries out, “For it to be for them never to be, never to have been, never to, even, had have been!”

He then descends into in an translatable gibberish, almost a wail, a wailing of the most indescribable sort.

 

5.11.95, Over the High Sierra to the Black Hills

6.21.95, Summer Solstice over the High Plains

9.18.95, From the Prairie to the Piedmont

[1] Ancient texts list 137 title of works by Aristotle that, apparently, did not survive Antiquity.

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Dream Sequence No. 3

Dream Sequence No. 3

Heraclitus

Flourished.circa 500 B.C.

 

In this dream Heraclitus is standing upon or, rather, lying astride (truth be told, I do not remember which), an ancient – and dry – riverbed.  The scene is not unlike those you might stumble upon in the high desert country of the American Southwest.

He looks me directly in the eyes and begins as if amidst a lecture:

“In fact, you can step in the same river twice, thrice, or even more so, provided the following three conditions are satisfied:

1. Shards of hope must be held in acute opposition to, and in distinction from, shreds of hope.
2. All relevant data must be obscured, obfuscated, or otherwise obliterated, and
3. The universal need for convergence must be tempered through the acknowledgement and acceptance of rounding errors.”

 

 

6.21.95, Summer Solstice over the High Plains

8.29.95, Over Salt Lake and the Great Basin

9.18.95, From the Prairie to the Piedmont

Dream Sequence No. 1

Dream Sequence No. 1

Abraham Lincoln

A.D.1809 – 1865

 

In this dream Lincoln appears as a young boy.  I interrupt his childhood game; he stands by a small pond.  He looks directly into my eyes.

Already at seven or eight, he carries within himself a profound weariness.  This much is obvious.  His eyes are hallow, sunken.  His manner distant, distracted.

No childish things spoken of here.

Awaiting his fate, he already carries his future burden, hidden only to himself.

4.24, 4.29.93, Paris

5.9.95, San Francisco

Dream Sequence No. 6

Dream Sequence No. 6

 

Johann Sebastian Bach

A.D. 1685 – 1750

 

In this dream I am present in a great hall.  I am standing directly in front of Johann Sebastian Bach, who is scribbling furiously.  Apparently Bach is in the midst of a creative frenzy.

Every now and again he turns to the nearby organ and plays a bit, a wisp, even a whispering of a piece that I recognize as embodying, perhaps, the basic elements of the Magnificat in D Major.  He continues in the described manner for quite some time.

Eventually he takes notice of my presence; he glares at me with contempt.  “If you must know,” he answers in answer to my unasked question, “I do not hear the music so much as I see the music.  I do not hear the notes so much as I see the notes.  I do not hear the sound so much as I see the sound.  I then simply record that which I have seen.”

Dream Sequence No. 4

Dream Sequence No. 4

Claude Monet

A.D.1840 – 1926

 

In this dream Monet appears as an old man on the grounds of his estate in Giverny.  The subject is water lilies.

He looks up from his easel and stares distantly into the ether, peering into or, rather, gazing upon that which only he can, would, or could, see.

He whispers, almost as if a silent sigh or quiet cry, “I would have painted the entire world, if only I had a canvas large enough”.

On the Nature of Light

 

 On the Nature of Light

Let us examine, now, the nature of light.

By its very essence, light is ephemeral. It exists on that boundary between the real and the unreal.   You can touch it not, but it’s warm to the touch.  You cannot see it, yet you can’t see without it.  It is weightless, the embodiment of stillness, and silent.  You can hold it in your hand.  Without light, the world would be a cold and lonely place; a world bereft of light, unworldly.

When God thought first of the universe, His first  thoughts were of light.