Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

Tag: thoughts

Splintered Perspectives

I suppose that this is less exciting with the advent of Inception, but over the last couple of years the idea of dreams as alternate universes that we view in unconscious states has fascinated me. It is somewhat inspired, I suppose, but Proust’s fascination with the confusion of waking. We’re never really confused when we enter dreams, it’s only afterwards that they seem strange. I posted something about it last March:


Anyway, this is a continuation of that idea:

The Eyes Have It, But Who Has Them?

When he awakes, his eyes are his own. Every night they are taken. He hardly dares to close them. But sleep finds its way inside his thoughts, slowing them, cold hands on his neck massaging out tension and care. Then lids slip downward and he feels them begin to leave. The flashes of color, the sketches of old trains and film-grained men riding unicycles. Images unrelated sweep past those eyes as they slowly untangle blood vessels and sever nerves. And finally into darkness as ether begins the countdown.

Sometime in that blackness they must drag him away, down crooked hallways through anesthetic air. Through a doorway that catches his ankle as he passes and into a padded stock, arms dangling.

He’s forgotten who he was.

The scar is on your left wrist.

This is not your house.

But he looks out and sees it, and his hands seem familiar. He remembers the bent ring finger, caught in the high bar when he was eight. When she tells him she doesn’t know him, he cannot protest. He’s almost forgotten. And even as he accepts it, he wonders which man they drag off into the night. Will he awake to that or fall into sleep from this?

Another Landmark of Dreams

The Northern Path

Return to the place of divergence.

An unconscious man poured out on the floorboards.

In each conversation, when we speak of travel, he tells of a road in the north.

“At first it seems common… If there are gentle hills, these sidle by like lambs toward a clover. Never a curve ahead.

But the dark earth pulses… ley-lines strung loosely on telephone poles. Sometimes we balance on them and feel ourselves pushed along above the thick, oak branches. When clouds shadow the path, young ivy creeps along its edges.

Dark, square sedans hurtle along the length. Every exit swings on hooks, they rotate on their racks like gates in a pinball machine.

Once your feet have taken a single running step on its surface, once you hurtle forward, once you send the wind retreating to the parcel (still in the hands of careless men), thoughts of flight seem vulgar.”


In one she lies in bloody paroxysms
eyes flutter
In another strolls beside me without a scar
eyes flutter
In others my brothers genuflect
eyes flutter
In this my nephew fills a fresh-dug grave


Dreams come before me with familiar casts and scripts. Without a moment of confusion I find my mark. All the details fill me.

In this one the hall runs this direction.
In that one a dumbwaiter descends to horror.
Above the garage is a thing of power.
Can I cope with the thought that he’s gone?

But is it all fluttering eyes and subconscious process? Is it all imagination, creation of minutiae? Or do I connect to something else? Does my mind instead find someone somewhere beyond the curtain? Someone in a mystic place. Someone with a home like mine or a darling child that inevitably wastes away.

Sometimes I think it’s just too familiar. Sometimes these dozens of revisits wear at my certainty.

In the hierarchy of dreams, for me, these hold portent.

A Study of Nonsense (NY Times)

Really interesting study on how the mind reacts to nonsense. Apparently they tested students by reading each group a story (one nonsensical, one conventional) and the nonsense group tested 30% higher in identifying patterns.

Might be worth thinking twice before saying, “That’s just nonsense,” next time.


via Carrollian @ the http://alice-in-wonderland.net forums…

As Angels Alight

There’s something amazing about falling asleep at night with someone clinging to you, their head resting on your shoulder. It brings me awake and sets all thoughts of sleep aside for those first moments in our darkened room. It is a time of being loved in repose. Not with a thought, but in existence. Simple yet blinding to comprehend, its essence is what I imagine will encompass the first epoch of worship in heaven.


All the words slip past in violence… tearing walls and conscience in a rain of sneers. Burdens of proof are lobbed about and pirouette corpses of the simple and confused.

But, beneath it we gaze… up in wonder, tasting sacraments that cannot be proved or measured.

Always… we are pixels no more.

What is my world? What is my joy when my most startling revelation comes in seeing a message online and realizing that it’s not from a thousand miles away… but my own little apartment to which I’m returning?

A screen tells me I’m happy. A screen lets joy through. A screen that had strained and grated all of our love, all of our hope… is now subservient to our proximity.

Today I realized my gladness in our closeness. Today I found Permanence where it had been hiding for weeks.

It happened…

So maybe it goes without saying… but I did finally get married on December 30th. I’m trying to think of a way to express all this without sounding vulgar. Really I don’t think I quite have the words yet, so I’ll just talk about more mundane aspects.

We’re getting our little apartment stocked and supplied. For me just the microwave might be enough, but it’d be a very unhealthy existence. As it is, my darling is teaching me a lot about things. I love it. Things for me have been somewhat chaotic for a long time and this feels like a wonderful change that I can embrace. I’m learning to do my part. We’re still finding our routine, mostly because work and school haven’t really started until this week. So things will fall into place soon.

a part… a hole

I know what I’m about to mention is a paradox of sorts.

It is a representation of the ridiculousness of my mind that, when I miss my love to the point of laying down and sobbing and clutching pillows, I cannot but wish she were just here to cry with me about it. Not to sooth it and relieve it by her presence, but just to join in physical empathy.

She would indeed remedy it completely.

So on mornings like this I find myself wishing for impossibilities, because the possibilities seem almost as far away.

I can’t stop thinking of soft, wet cheeks kissed in streams of mourning. Too many times they’ve been my last touch and remembrance in the months of waiting. And so my hunger increases for them, for sorrow joined… Pain with love and presence seems irresistably alluring. The salt of tears better quenches all and would dearly send me off to a better rest, and Grief would be my welcome companion, if only he’d bring my blue-eyed friend.

How to know if you’ve found the right one…

Disclaimer – I wrote this mostly with humorous intent.  If you’re more serious about this question, I did write something up along these lines: http://lunaticisland.com/blog/2009/10/19/the-search-for-thorns/

So when Megan and I were talking around the time of our original engagement, we talked about TV.

Neither of us really watches tv. Just a few little things. A lot of people say that… but if you mention a commercial they’re all, “wow… yeah, that one’s hilarious.” Whereas I’m just clueless. We agreed early that there was really no reason to ever get cable or satellite. The idea was to just use the tv for the occasional fabulous fim… and maybe DDR. :p

Fast forward a bit. My two vices have been the Scifi Channel and Cartoon Network. I moved a while back and didn’t have cable, so my love of cartoon network was laid to rest. At the same time… one flame burned strongly… my love of Scifi’s Battlestar Galactica. Seriously, if none of you have watched this… it’s, in my opinion, the best show on television. The strength of the characters and the complexity of situations and principles expressed are just beyond the ken of anything else out there.

So I loaned her some dvds, including the first season, and first half of the second season, and she’s been watching.

So last night we’re talking and the subject came up. She says, “I think we’re going to have to get cable just for Battlestar Galactica.”

Stop and ponder that. Ask yourself how many women would ever utter that phrase.

The answer is: “No, gentlemen… you cannot have my fiancée.”