I think a lot about dreams. I feel like the filler, the comfortable narrative structure is gone. Our brains create hierarchies separating sensory inputs, memories are grouped and regrouped.
A lone figure can become a monster, a house becomes a sanctuary and it’s components can become talismans. A pet serves as a symbol. We classify and reclassify to make little mountains.
Sometimes pain becomes sticky for me like the game Beautiful Katamari. Small hurts and worries become unbearably large, looming over the landscape like a giant.
Maybe the dream-time version of our brains is the opposite of Beautiful Katamari, our own coded sorting system choosing a representative from mental piles to construct a showcase we can’t decipher.
