a galleon in full sail

We search for dreams under the same moon. You and I. Standing in the cold in the heat in the desert in the mountain in the urban midstream. In my night your day, your day my night. A part of this shared revolution. For those passing and who have passed, for those entering tumultuous waters, and those who have found refuge in calm seas. We search for the moon in our same dreams.

moonshare2

 

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Transgression

“In dreams there are no rules under sleep my ear folds…”

9 minute sound piece.

Text: Julia Robinson Bouwsma

Composition/Sound: Christopher Preissing

Transgression

This collaborative project by fellow dreamers Julia Bouwsma and Christopher Preissing—though a digression from flying—was borne of a vivid series of dreams that Julia had while we were all in residence at the Viriginia Center for Creative Arts. Preissing’s soundscape matches the strange netherworld experience of the words that haunt the dreamer. One never knows where the subconscious sleeper may meander. – hsk

In neurons we are linked: our hippocampus, our dreams.

As the rat sleeps in dreams she relives the activities from the day. Through the maze she repeats her path perfectly never missing a turn. As the woman sleeps in dreams she relives the activities from the day. Through the maze she repeats her path perfectly never missing a turn.

rat and I_mastermerged
We delve in to our bodies to find our minds.

Matthew Wilson, Professor of Science at the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory at MIT asks how episodic memory connects to spacial memory. How is time and sequence incorporated in to memory. And how do these spacial and experiential acts become part of our unconscious or dream space. To do this he reads the memories of Rats in their dreams.

Wilson on the rat in the maze

Flight training desperate measure

past few nights monkeys in the foyer, a series of white colonnaded steps leading in every direction. there is a menacing stranger oblivious to the monkey’s rapidly ascending of the steps. the glass doors to the shape shifting houseboat at the edge of the field are locked. my legs will not move. the stranger is getting closer. the monkeys are at play.

i wake knowing i need more training. ability to get off the ground. to make the iconography of childhood present in dreams. i find a cape and begin training.

the flyer asks too much of the air. the lacuna of molecules between her and the surface of ground still too wide. more training will follow.