But before that, I must write my dream. Remember this was dreamed in the night between yesterday and today.
I was signed up to learn how to surf, but this was not surfing as you imagine or know. No Point Break here, even though I watched it for the first time last week. The surfing in my dream was done on jellyfish – not quite sure how. This I had to pick myself from the bottom of the sea. Needless to say, I was petrified. It was not a nightmare, though, because I was being taught, always watched, cared for, shown how to get in and out.
The Hunter game mystified me, as most games do. Yet, I got the strategy – even if I could not really implement it – and was part of the group. Someone has to lose first and, anyway, we did enjoy shouting to everyone that we lost our games.
The balls game, however, was a revelation. My eyes could follow the ball, my arms extend at the right time for my hands to catch it. Magic. Repeated and repeated, even when the balls were taken away. I learned that left and right don’t always matter and that everything is better when you relax (apart from handstands). My OCD came in useful, giving me a clear role and purpose. Not one person would be alone – or have a solo – except for me. So I was a cog in Dora’s clock, visited Dora’s Tron and rushed through Dora’s cityscape. All simultaneous. The City & The City.
I also drew, I also wrote, and got a palimpsest to work on.
What did I notice? Well …
I noticed onions; not quite, perhaps pomegranates. But onions are funnier. Especially after last year’s Oxford conference in which they asked me if I had a dietary requirement. They always do. This time I replied, though. I wrote back: ‘I don’t like onions’. In acknowledgement, I got a badge that said ‘NO ONIONS’ when I got to the conference, which I had to display at every meal. Coeliacs, vegetarians, allergic people, lactose intolerant: NO ONIONS for me. Next time, I want one that reads NO ONIONS (but please give me pomegranates).
Can you feel the
I eye looking at you? This is a game I played all throughout my fine art training: try to draw an eye that sees. I am always playing games.