The apocalypse is rarely feared because it ends the world. It is feared because it ends interpretation. Nothing terrifies consciousness more than the possibility that explanation itself may expire.

https://lucidloom.xyz

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#dreams #surrealism #digitalArt #photography #lucidloom #monochrome #noire #philosophy #mythology #psychology #esotericism

I was atop the open-space of the reservation ridge in my hometown where I once saw a Revolutionary War re-enactment. I was dressed in a suit as if attending an outdoor wedding or taking part in a graduation ceremony, though I had no idea exactly why and/or to what I’d actually been invited. Someone in a poorly-fitting tux rental with a wired, wraparound headset and name-tag on a lanyard came over to me, and in the schlocky style of someone giving a pitch to unsuspecting conference attendees to become fly-by-night door-to-door salesmen told me I’d been granted the ability to morph into an aviary creature and next-level myself to glory. It took him a few proddings until I allowed myself over… to my arms and head alone morphing into little more than those belonging to a Pingu-esque claymation character. The salesman-pitcher then physically turned and directed me to head in the direction of what appeared to be some King Richard’s Faire / “Safety Dance” video gathering. “But I don’t want this,” I thought to myself.

#Dreams

Cat and Crow 48

#cat #crow #friends #comicstrip #digitalart #comic #humour #animals #noai #morning #dreams #pixie #breakfast

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So far this week, my vivid #Dreams have included

I'm at a seaside village in #Summer, perhaps Ireland. Glorious weather. And again, there is #BarackObama with a few friends. A #music track breaks out (boisterous Indie Folk, like Lumineers?) and Barack and Friends break into #dance in the country lane, as I pass by slowly in some sort of panel truck (or maybe a flat-bed) dangling out and wriggling my legs and waving my arms with the music.

SSRIs, Lordy

1 of 2
So far this week, my vivid #Dreams have included

me behaving badly towards another person

sitting in a living room with #BarackObama , where he's saying "it's a little weird out there - I'm glad I have this house and grounds with all kinds of security" about the Zombies that have appeared on America's streets. Except the Zombies seem rather harmless, as they ignore living people. They shuffle along instead in search of fresh fruits and vegetables to eat, rather than "brains!"

I was in a space striking me as a YMCA’s community room in a converted former Unitarian Universalist church, which here had been appropriated to host what was heralded as a post-societal-collapse anarchist meetup. I entered it feeling questionable. I did feel somewhat better immediately recognizing the man I’ve been saying hello to on my morning walks this past week as I passed him painting over the facade of the long-closed neighborhood sports bar in realtime. He’d grown his hair to waist-length dreads and was dressed basic-motorcycle-jacket/band-tee punk. He asked me how I thought I could best help. I told him writing/art, and he directed me to a room off to the side. In the room was a large printer akin the one at the photographic pro-lab I worked at as a recent college graduate twenty-seven years ago. On an old-school Mac I pulled up a collage to print I suddenly remembered I’d pieced together for this very event. It was a cut and paste montage of other recent dreams I’ve had plus photographs of my grandparents from the 1920s. The printer only printed about a quarter of it before it ran out of ink. As I brought it to the person ‘facilitating’ [i.e. purity-test/gatekeeping] the group, they pfft’d, theatrically inhaled through their nose while wobbling their head, and asked what scent I was wearing. I told them it was sandalwood, adding immediately that manufactured deodorants chafe my armpits. He smugly shook his head, glanced at my piece, tossed it back to me and told me to try again. I screeched out of my chair so hard it fell over. I wandered back to the printer, but thinking, “Fuck this,” left to wander the wasteland of felled trees into a sunset muted yellow-green.

#Dreams