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The magic of sleep
In the evening, just before entering the dream, I begin to observe a series of stories in my mind: some children who run, a conversation in a country house, a drizzle in a distant landscape. Just at the time that I am aware of it, disappears. It does not belong to me, I can not think, I can barely remember. According Borges, the lyrical poem Kubla Khan was dreamt by Coleridge in the eighteenth century, after reading a text on building a palace, dreamed by the mogol emperor Kublai Khan in the thirteenth century. "Perhaps an archetype not revealed still to men, an eternal object, is gradually entering into the world; its first manifestation was the palace, second, the poem." [1] Poem and palace were given to different persons at different times through the dream. As if that strange object wanted to exist and revealed itself in dreams. This eternal object, these series of stories in my mind just before entering the dream: where they come from? Who creates them?
In the evening, just before entering the dream, I begin to observe a series of stories in my mind: some children who run, a conversation in a country house, a drizzle in a distant landscape. Just at the time that I am aware of it, disappears. It does not belong to me, I can not think, I can barely remember. According Borges, the lyrical poem Kubla Khan was dreamt by Coleridge in the eighteenth century, after reading a text on building a palace, dreamed by the mogol emperor Kublai Khan in the thirteenth century. "Perhaps an archetype not revealed still to men, an eternal object, is gradually entering into the world; its first manifestation was the palace, second, the poem." [1] Poem and palace were given to different persons at different times through the dream. As if that strange object wanted to exist and revealed itself in dreams. This eternal object, these series of stories in my mind just before entering the dream: where they come from? Who creates them?