- Assignment Title: Describe a dream.
- Assignment Description: Describe a dream (in any sense of the word) that you had recently, as if you are either talking to a [therapist] [a room of 50 strangers] [just yourself] or [the ghosts in your room]
- Created by: Yulin Huang
- Responded by: Hanya Elghamry, Medb, Yulin Huang, Natasha Brown, Roberta Borroni.
Marine One - 夢 (Yume)
Natasha Brown - Describing the dream
Yulin Huang - A Sublime dream-moment
Medb - untitled (dreaming out loud)
Roberta Borroni - Ghost in room 45
YH: Sometimes you get hit with a dream-moment so (sur)real that you truly believe, with every ounce of your being, that this timeline you’re experiencing right now is the Real one, and the one you wake up to so regularly is just a continuous series of drab obstacles you have to overcome everyday. Who’s to say the life I’m experiencing in the reality right now is not just testing grounds for my spirit, soul, essence? Two nights ago, I had one of these vivid dream-moments. It was particularly precious because I experienced the Sublime, not from nature directly overwhelming me, but from just surviving to live another day. The context in which I found myself grovelling through, in line with dream-logic, was that I was in a dystopian timeline, where there indeed lingers the hauntings of zombie-apocalypse –cliché as it is– in the scene before. In this audio I read out, to the entities in my room, a record of this dream-moment.
RB: Life happens in front of my eyes in the museum. I am a spectator, I patiently wait. I look at other people's dreams on canvas, and I wait for something to happen, or to be finally let free. When I leave the museum rooms I take my uniform off and I begin waiting again. Waiting to clock off to be able to go home. This waiting time happens outside, in the museum courtyard. But we are not alone. The ghost of room 45 watches over us from the window. She's a tall bronze statue, Pomona by Marino Marini. She's an uncanny presence. Everyone - one time or another - got frightened by her: your instinct thinks that someone has been locked inside the museum, that you are witnessing an emergency, a nightmare, or a supernatural scene and you finally need to act. But it's just her, with her uncanny presence, existing in the museum premises. Perhaps she represents something more than herself, humanised yet dehumanised: you feel a bit like her, trapped inside the museum. You can only speak when prompted, you represent a human but bring no human value, you count as a body, flesh with no life.
M: I've been having so many surreal dreams this year I couldn't single out just one. This is me just kind of word vomiting everything I've dreamt of lately on a hypothetical therapist's couch. I'm sure there's meanings in there, some more obvious than others.
MO: I sometimes write down my dreams as soon as I wake up, while I still remember them, because usually the memory of dreams wouldn't last for more than a minute. Even then, what I write rarely makes much sense when I read it again on the same day. I wrote down the dreams I had yesterday as soon as I woke up, and I did it in English for the first time. They make absolutely no sense, and I really can’t remember what I was trying to write anymore. The only memory I have of the dream is from when I was half asleep, writing it down, not the dream itself at all.