Modern man has been constructed around error. Error is at the very core of modern mental construction––in almost every case, a fundamental error is at the nexus, the very connective center of modern personality. This leaves us hopeless, and, in the very most hopeful position. We are the product of a guilty dream, and indeed, we dream all the world into being each moment. I detest mysticism so I will explain myself: In dreams, we assemble unsaturated memory traces, uninteresting aspects from the last few day’s life experience, and give those unimportant things symbolic meaning as we place them into a narrative. Likewise, each day all the world is but a dead thing, a potential memory trace, a perception free from endemic quality, an object free from meaning, a “what if” to which we assign affective/emotional value, and hence, give definition. Eg., One person may look upon my pet mouse as a disgusting creature most ugly and grotesque, another may find it cute. The mouse is the same, a neutral perceptual substrate, it is the affect with which it is endowed which give the mouse its perceptual and experiential quality, not any quality in the object itself. The mouse is as all the universe is to us––a symbol. Hence the notion––we dream all the world into being each moment. The problem lies not in the universe, but in the dreamer who has created it.
The most Hopeful question:
What is illness but a poorly crafted dream––what is unhappiness but a dreamer with broken eyes––what is hope but change––what is truth but an assault upon our broken dreams––what is the highest hope of mankind but the knowledge, that he may yet dream again?
To walk away from the fact, so very useless, the fact of our unshakeable belief: to recast our world––it is this that we may dream. Our dream, is to dream again. No less than that. To understand why, why you are the way you are, the error and the height which is you and all of us, the question so poorly summed, the error can be reformed, re-dreamt and re-known!––the error is but a piece of history and a fake! All the world can be re-dreamt, the dreamer free from the fact! We are both the dream and the dreamer––indeed the dreamer is but a bit of his own dream, and so, even he can be reclaimed, his world and himself––hoped and dreamt––anew. Of course, quite naturally––such hope comes at a price.
First, one must look plainly upon the problem. The guilty dream is but a wound most desperate, a wound holding us close, and holding us––forever sick. A pill will not cure this dream, this darkness is not shed with pretty thoughts and forgetting––never! Only those willing to look and never forget, only those such as you or I have this strength––only we might both wish, and wish it so––even wish to know. . . this. Yes! Let us know––even this! Only then will we become worthy of a new dream––only then have we earned the right––to dream again.
So, my friend, I hold the choice before us both and tease you, in hopes you will find strength enough to be curious, and perhaps––to look. Are you strong enough? Here, look, read with me and know of it––for only then might we begin…to dream again. The universe is ours! So shouts my dream of the world and life––a silver shout to light the blackness––to find the world borne out––a spark snaps the void awake to sudden laughter and warmth, bright and shining is the day dreamt again and anew, a dream as brightness, a dream to crack open the guilty stupid heart of man until it spills itself anew, re-founded in a spring of tears and light. Read of our sullied error, of Prometheus, and our silver hope swallowed beneath ugliness, now free…read of Native Psychoanalysis. To begin a new dream is a simple and daring thing, it begins where your fear holds you blind and mute, as an invisible question, a question we can not hear but to ignore––until Strength finds Hope awake and dreaming, and decides…to look.
Here my friend, go to the journal…and know: