Surrealism is probably my favorite period in art history.
‘Surrealism had a great effect on me because then I realized that the imagery in my mind wasn’t insanity. Surrealism to me is reality.’ John Lennon
As soon as a soul gains human form and steps into this world in the form of a human body it is limited by outside word, led by incalculable false ambitions and demands from the cruel society it is forced to perceive as reality. The clear pages of child’s primary consciousness are burnt in a fire of greed and an admiration for power. The society has created theatrical environment where competition and desire to be better than another play the main roles. TV and magazines are promoting unreachable, idealized idea of life, giving an impression of being available to anyone which causes the soul to freeze in a bubble of new technological gadgets, social networking, desire to share life in order to gain acceptation from others and gain a higher places in social hierarchy resulting in proclamation to have any more effort to search for a deeper meaning of being. ‘The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown’ - H.P. Lovecraft. The fear of the unknown and unexplainable has grown with expectations of the tragic, brought upon us with misinterpretation of the bible and a cuddle of habitual admiration to comfortable trends of society causing the action and reaction process to be controlled by automatically trained trait of thought based on socially acceptable morals and reasons.
‘Till she who burns with youth, and knows no fixed lot; is bound
In spells of law to one she loaths: and must she drag the chain
Of life, in weary lust! must chilling murderous thoughts, obscure
The clear heaven of her eternal spring! to bear the wintry rage
Of a harsh terror driv’n to madness, bound to hold a rod
Over her shrinking shoulders all the day; and all the night
To turn the wheel of false desire: and longings that wake her womb
To the abhorred birth of cherubs in the human form
That live a pestilence & die a meteor & are no more.’
So today I have woken up quite early considering how my current sleeping pattern adjusted to my soul sadistic lifestyle. I slept unbelievably well and felt in sync with my energy levels. Recently my dreams have been proven to be a lot more vivid although I wouldn’t necessary call them pleasant as I could probably confess that they slightly cross the borders of the wierd and thrilling side of my 5th dimention. I woke up. My headphones were still on, I listened to binaural beats before I entered the state of deep meditation to send myself to the other side of reality in order to create a comfortable surroundings for my brain to create a new path in the field of blooming flowers of subconsciousness I checked the time, it was half 5. The video I used for the sound was meant to last for half an hour and I’ve already been asleep for 3 hours. I realized that my sense of reality has blended with another dimension, and I was still asleep, although I was still aware and conscious of my surroundings. I looked outside my window. The sun has just succeeded in defeating the battle with the moon. The post battle mist was breathing through the wet ground with sweat of new day and freshly cut grass. It was this time of a day when you can trick your brain into turning the clock 180 degrees and pretend that the evening is settling in. The sky was marshmallow pink. It was reflecting itself on the post council house windows, looking through rejected rain drops on the glass to eventually finish the journey in my frozen blue eyes. With this heavenly emotion travelling through the veins of mine, I found myself in yet another coast of the dreamland. This time the weather has completely changed and the waves were not so comfortably peaceful any more. I was dreaming about a boy, he was blonde, his curly hair carresed his full rosy cheeks. He looked like a cherub, like a modern day cherub. He was killed, although circumstances of the event were not provided in my dream. His family owned a little stall at the market where they employed me to work for a 3 pound per hour, selling collector stamps with ice skaters and movie stars printed on each of them. I’ve found myself to be very close with this family. They learned to love me and I learned to love them back. Place which I call home was not on the map in this dream. So when I got offered a bed and a bowl of porridge every night from this family, it seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse. My back was in aches, the Great Cannon resembled the state which my head was in. Previously, I slept on the seventh branch of sequoia tree with umbrella of leaves as my shelter and clouds of moss as my pillows. My new bed felt strange and small. There was a black English bull terrier in the room. He was sitting under the desk and for some reason his eyes were locked on me constantly. I tried to built some kind of relationship with him, but my good intentions must of not been persuading enough. The dog’s naturally grumpy face expression froze deeply in my mind as I went to sleep, dissolving slowly into the black bin bag of memories filled with office rubbish and cans of Stella. I was asleep. Asleep in a dream. The dream I dreamed while I was asleep in a dream presented itself in a form of the same English bull terriers face, although this time his face was green. The shade of green was sharp, sharp and painful like paper cut from a newspaper with news of the world. I felt vulnerable as I ran in slow motion through the green maze chased by a green English bull terrier. I woke up. I woke up to a black English bull terrier attacking my legs and this time I found myself running through corridors of never ending house also in slow motion. I felt truly terrorized and scared but the emotion didn’t seem to have as much strength. It felt like a unpleasant breath of a person who just drank some coffee and smoked a cigarette and decided to speak to you from very close distance. When I eventually realized the lack of power of the emotion, I decided to face the black English bull terrier and look him in the eye. His horror filled wrinkles on his grumpy face started transforming into a human face. Blonde waterfall of spaghetti bloomed from the top of his head like a squeezed tube of toothpaste. The angelic features of a cherub took over the black rolls on his face and after a while delicately erased it completely. The boy looked at me and erupted with hot lava of tears.
I woke up and got a shower.