9/29/99
“Greetings gentle friends & fierce enemies, psychotic fans & crackheads, coworkers & family, spies & lovers.”
The other night, I dreamt that I presented my own eulogy in holography the other night. Among the other wacked dreams I’ve been having lately, this proved relatively mild.
I find it amazing that the rational mind and the imaginative subconscious can be such magnificent & passionate lovers. Yet they are also so at conflict with each other from night to night, and in fact from night & day. Only during dreams, when we sink into weary submission to our magmatic mental meanderings do they embrace and present lovely allegory, mythology, and tomes of contrast and prophecy. Do you ever have instances of brilliance in dreams?
The Matrix has nothing on this.
Most of my dreams tend to run on the erratic side, with images of drugged up Canadian gray squirrels involved in international heroin smuggling, or playing scrabble with Ricky Martin (both of us completely clothed damn!) while wearing cow print pajamas. But other nights, I feel like a character scripted by Marquez. If you get a chance, find and read the short story “Eyes Of A Blue Dog” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Perhaps you’ll feel blessed or tortured to find yourself bridging the dream world and the world we commonly refer to as the real one.
Cordially,
Min Jung
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