My awareness in the dream began with a sense of fiction, with images and words swirling together not on a page as in a book but more as a hologram in motion. There was much to this that was not amenable to description, where time and sequence were liquid in some way. The whole scene was breath taking to my awareness, though I as such was not visible though some sense of I was witness to this fluid geography.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have may ways of working with my dreams. One way, is to consider the dream as a prompt for story, to embody the dream in some form of narrative. Sometimes, this takes the form of poetry and at other times as fiction as the dream itself suggested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My method for doing this is not to \u201cthink up\u201da story in any conscious sense, but to enter into what I call a narrative space. In this space, I try to settle into a state of blank mind. Then, I wait. I wait for something to present itself, to make itself known. This may be a sound, a word, a phrase, most anything. And with that I become what feels more like scribe than author, and the fiction begins to flow. What results is nothing I would have come to otherwise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In relation to the dream describe above, what came was s story entitled, The Museum of Indifference.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n THE MUSEUM OF INDIFFERENCE<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The Opening of the Museum of Indifference<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Sandwiched between a porn shop and a lunch time eatery, the newly opened Museum of Indifference was awaiting its first visitor. Unlike MOMA, the MOI did not intend to acquire items for display. The announcement displayed on a small poster in the window indicated the exhibit, called \u201cArtless Visionary Projection,\u201d was now open and in readiness for \u201cpublic indifference.\u201d The Blue Hippo and the Owl<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Ms. Vandavi Disciplines Mr. Krill<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr. Krill Objects<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n My awareness in the dream began with a sense of fiction, with images and words swirling together not on a page as in a book but more as a hologram in motion. There was much to this that was not amenable to description, where time and sequence were liquid in some way. The whole scene […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1059","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-coming-soon"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1059"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1062,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1059\/revisions\/1062"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1059"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1059"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ralockhart.com\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1059"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Joseph Krill stood motionless, pondering whether entering the exhibit would be a violation of its odd intention. Entering would express at least a minimal desire to find out what this exhibit was about. That desire could not be considered indifference. And moving on, would not be indifference either. Straight ahead logic left him motionless not knowing at all what to do. But then, he thought, does his own action need to reflect the intention of the exhibit or exhibitor? Say it was a Matisse exhibit. You don\u2019t have to be Matisse, or even know anything about Matisse, in order to enter and appreciate or not the art of Matisse. There were no requirements for the viewer. So why should he consider there to be requirements here to enter, or not, the Museum of Indifference? Should he not be indifferent to whether it made a difference?
Joseph was known among his associates as a thinker. It was said that he could think himself into a wet paper bag, and delight in the discoveries he made there that had escaped his contemporary\u2019s small minds. Not that this talent helped to navigate the shifting sands of his mother\u2019s incessant demands, or the landscape known as \u201cgirls,\u201d nor even the simplicities of balancing his checkbook. But Joseph Krill was an unflappable chap and he gloried in his musings, which prompted him now to step inside the Museum of Indifference.
The walls were covered in an unrelieved flat gray, highlighted in spots by beaming blue-tinged lights hanging from glide rails mounted on the high ceiling. The floor was carpeted in multiple darker shades of gray forming patterns, though of what, it could not be determined. No matter.
His corduroy and muted yellow suit was set off well by the varying shades of gray carpet and light bespotted gray walls. His black boots and what he considered to be his most fetching highlander leather cap were decent finishing touches to his outfit–not that his cap had done much fetching, as of late, if ever. Still. He could not claim indifference to his appearance and was meticulous in arranging himself in presentable ways no matter the occasion.
“Good afternoon Mr. Krill.”
The deep baritone voice had no discernible location but turned Mr. Krill full around eyeing for the source of this voice. But no one was there. Gathering himself together after the shock of this strange welcome, he voiced his surprise.
“I’m curious as to how you know my name?” He spoke out into the expanse of the room with as full a voice as he could muster and did not like the edge of quiver that was all too evident.
“Do not concern yourself Mr. Krill with things of lesser importance. Please focus your attention on the light spot on the first panel near the door.”
“But there’s nothing there except for the light spot.”
“Not true, Mr. Krill. You simply have not seen yet. Stay focused on the light until you see.”
“Just the light. Nothing more,” Mr. Krill managed.
“You are neither poet nor raven, Mr. Krill. We are not in a rush. Take your time.”
“It’s no use. My mind is going crazy with trying to figure out how you know my name. Besides, it’s just a light on the wall. What else is there to see? Why can’t you just tell me straight out how you know my name?”
\u201cMr. Krill does not know the deep character of indifference; does not know the difference between insidious indifference and nourishing indifference. Are you ready to learn, Mr. Krill?\u201d
The female voice that filled the Museum of Indifference was not sultry, nor sensuous. It was more enveloping, a kind of inseeping, as if it was being absorbed by one\u2019s skin. Mr. Krill shuddered as the sensation took hold.
\u201cA clear case of an error of misplaced indifference, my dear,\u201d the baritone voice announced.
\u201cYes, yes, clearly so. I ask again, Mr. Krill, are you ready to learn?\u201d The woman\u2019s voice crawled all over his skin again and although he was not given to dramatics, Joseph Krill felt the coming of a faint, knees weakening, arms reaching out for something to hold. With nothing to hold him up, Mr. Krill folded and fell, his last bit of consciousness finding its way to the light spot, and as the darkness took hold, he began to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, Mr. Krill,\u201d resumed the dreamy Voice, bringing Mr. Krill around. His eyes blinked open. Raising his hand to block the flood of light pricking his eyes, he tried to speak but found his words would come.
Are you enjoying the show?\u201d
\u201cShow? What show?\u201d Mr. Krill\u2019s words fell into the room like a lead balloon, his usual easy speaking deserting him.
\u201cWhy Mr. Krill you surprise me. Surely you remember what you saw.\u201d
\u201cHow the hell do you know my name?\u201d The words came easier now that his consciousness was returning bit by bit. He raised himself to a sitting position, but a dizziness took hold and he made no further effort to stand. His stared at the first panel spot of light.
\u201cNot back to that are we Mr. Krill? What did you see, my good man?\u201d
Mr. Krill closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if trying to rub away an ache following a Friday night binge. Not that Mr. Krill ever binged, mind you. In addition to being a thinker, Mr. Krill was a temperate soul, not given to extremes.
\u201cCome on, Mr. Krill,\u201d the woman\u2019s voice carrying just an edge of impatience. \u201cYou can remember.\u201d Not so much encouragement as cajoling, almost sweet-talking.
\u201cOK, OK.\u201d Mr. Krill was feeling a bit bullied by this voice that could not be seen. As Mr. Krill continued to rub his forehead, he started to think about whether voices could be seen in any event, then caught himself, pulling himself back from distraction and tried to focus on what he\u2019d seen.
\u201cYou remember now, don\u2019t you, Mr. Krill?\u201d
\u201cDo you have a name?\u201d
\u201cMr. Krill. We do not want you focusing on the irrelevant. What did you see?\u201d
\u201cOK, it\u2019s coming back. It\u2019s just ridiculous!\u2019
\u201cMr. Krill.\u201d The lady\u2019s voice continued its seeming indifference, but Mr. Krill\u2019s skin was crawling with hints of warning.
\u201cOK. There was a bridge over some water, I think. It was dark but also light enough to see, like maybe the moon was in full shine. Then from the other side, coming toward me was this hippopotamus. It was a strange blue color almost fluorescent. On top of its head was an all-white owl. As the hippo came near the whole scene began to ripple like water and it all went black. That\u2019s what I remember.\u201d
\u201cWhat about the fish, Mr. Krill?\u201d
\u201cThe fish?\u201d I don\u2019t recall any fish.
\u201cNever mind, Mr. Krill. We must turn our attention now to Miss Vandavi. Ah, here she is now,\u201d the woman\u2019s words coinciding with the door opening followed by the appearance of a very tall figure, no doubt of the Indian sub-continent, and carrying a monumental handbag strapped to her shoulder with the eyes of a small cocker spaniel peering over the edge and emitting a low rumbling growl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr. Krill was lost for thought. His mind going blank was unusual as it always so readily filled up with trivia and inconsequentials. Now that he needed his precious thinking, it had deserted him, leaving him a hapless chap still sitting on the floor of the Museum of Indifference.
\u201cAh Mr. Krill, your blank stare tells me you are ready for Ms. Vandavi and her special talents. Relax, Mr. Krill.\u201d The bodiless voice filled not only his ears but his lungs as well. She\u2014whoever she was\u2014filled the air he was breathing in. He was panting.
\u201cI still\u2026I still\u2026want to know how you know my name. I need to know.\u201d
\u201cNeeds, yes, they are well worth tending, Mr. Krill, but here we find your needs to be a matter of indifference. You may no longer have such a need when Ms. Vandavi and Bitzy have finished your lesson.\u201d
\u201cI think\u2026I will\u2026just leave. I\u2019ve had\u2026enough of your\u2026damn nonsense.\u201d His words came out in lurches as he couldn\u2019t catch his breath. He tried to get up only to discover he was unable. Fear was creeping up on his annoyance.
Bitzy escaped Ms. Vandavi\u2019s outsized bag and made a beeline for Mr. Krill\u2019s trouser leg, promptly treating it as if a familiar fire hydrant, leaving not a single drop on the rich carpeting of the Museum of Indifference.
\u201cOrdinarily Mr. Krill, Bitzy would apologize for this outrageous behavior, but not here in the Museum of Indifference. It\u2019s part of the lesson you see. While you have given up something\u2014as soon as the papers are signed of course\u2014you have now received something in return. Quid pro quo it\u2019s called.\u201d
Mr. Krill found that his thinking had returned, and his breathing had normalized as Ms. Vandavi spoke. Her voice had none of the enveloping qualities of the Voice, it was more as if she was talking at him, throwing her words in his direction. His thinking rolled into gear and he realized at once that he had a comeback to Ms. Vandavi\u2019s no doubt affectational use of Latin.
\u201cBut Ms. Vandavi, if I may speak bluntly, quid pro quo means an equal exchange of value. I do not see how the exchange of my dream hippo and owl for your mutt pissing on my pants is an equal exchange. It\u2019s all crazy. My hippo and owl were a dream or hallucination or some damn thing like that\u2014unreal at best\u2014but piss is real Ms. Vandavi, as I\u2019m sure your nose is telling you.\u201d
\u201cMy, my, Mr. Krill, you do have your back up! You are not quite getting the lesson Mr. Krill. Bitzy\u2019s urina is quite real to be sure, but you see it\u2019s all a metaphor. What have you pissed on Mr. Krill so that Bitzy needs to make you utterly aware? It\u2019s a living metaphor. Do you know? Say it Mr. Krill and you will be free to go\u2014after signing the papers.\u201d
\u201cUrina? What\u2019s with all this Latin? Are you trying to impress me? This whole idea is ridiculous. I can\u2019t sign away my dream, or whatever it was. Dreams have no legal standing as property\u2014any lawyer will tell you that. Signing your papers is a will o\u2019 wisp.\u201d
Mr. Krill was pleased with himself that this term had floated into his mind and seemed in the moment to describe the situation perfectly\u2014though, if he had to admit it, he wasn\u2019t quite sure what the term meant.
\u201cIgnis fatuus. I assure you Mr. Krill, the Museum of Indifference is not dealing with \u2018foolish fire.\u2019 To be sure, the quality of your AVP left something to be desired but nonetheless as the Museum\u2019s first visitor, you must sign away your hippo and owl, not to mention the bridge and fish as well as the qualities of light, and all else contained therein to use the legal description.\u201d
With this, Ms. Vandavi took a piece of green paper from her monumental tote and dropped it in front of Mr. Krill.
\u201cSign it,\u201d she demanded without hint of any other possibility.
Mr. Krill looked at the green page, looked at both sides. All he saw was a line near the bottom of one side with his name printed in: Joseph Sizemore Krill. But there was nothing else on the page.
\u201cI can\u2019t sign this; there\u2019s nothing on it. You could fill anything you want after I sign it. How stupid do you think I am?\u201d
\u201cLet\u2019s be clear Mr. Krill,\u201d the Voice returned. \u201cRecall you claimed there was \u201cnothing there\u201d on the first panel when you looked. But you were wrong Mr. Krill as you came to know. You are wrong again. You just are not looking in the necessary way. Sign it Mr. Krill and you will be on your way. We have your Hippo and the owl and the other things you saw\u2014even some you didn\u2019t. And you have Bitzy\u2019s urina. Fair exchange, seeing how you have pissed on your own AVP by devaluing it as not real.\u201d
\u201cAnd Mr. Krill,\u201d the baritone voice added, \u201cwe hope you have learned your lesson.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr. Krill looked again at the sheet of paper and still saw nothing. What the hell did it mean to sign away rights to his images he saw while dreaming, or unconscious or whatever the state was? He was more than annoyed. He decided to protest.
\u201cLesson? That\u2019s a crock! Tell me now, right now, what it means to sign away my images?\u201d He was standing now and felt he was being as reasonable as possible\u2014even a bit brusque if he had to put a name to it.
\u201cTruth be told, Mr. Krill, you do not have, and never have had any proprietary claim to such images. They are not yours.\u201d
\u201cWhat? Not mine? That\u2019s patent nonsense!\u201d
\u201cWell,\u201d the woman\u2019s voice continued, \u201clike most others, you suffer from this common delusion. These images visited you Mr. Krill. And what did you do? You pissed on them. You could have invited them in, welcomed them, befriended them. You cared nothing for them, even denied them any reality.\u201d
The woman\u2019s rebuke was laid out in that voice that made his skin itch.
\u201cSo, what if I did. What business is it of yours anyway?\u201d Mr. Krill was shouting trying to gain some solid ground.
\u201cWe are not indifferent to how you or others treat dreams. We will not have any proprietary interest in your images, Mr. Krill, even when you\u2019ve signed the agreement. But your signing will allow us to treat your images differently, and if I may say so, with respect. We will treat them in ways you can\u2019t even begin to imagine.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re insane, that\u2019s what! I\u2019m in some loony bin here! I\u2019m leaving! Screw your damned agreement!\u201d Mr. Krill was in full froth, so unlike his usual mild manner, as he headed for the door.
\u201cIf you don\u2019t sign voluntarily, Mr. Krill, then you will not be able to leave. Go ahead, try the door.\u201d It was baritone speaking.
Mr. Krill tried the door and it would not open. Exasperated, he took out his pen, an old Mont Blanc his father had given him. Placing the paper on the window, he signed his name, and as he did so, he began to see words forming on the page, but could make nothing out.
The woman\u2019s voice announced, \u201cYou may take it with you Mr. Krill as we now have a copy of your signed agreement.\u201d
\u201cHow\u2026,\u201d Mr. Krill stammered.
\u201cDo not bother with inconsequentials Mr. Krill. It is quite unbecoming.\u201d The baritone voice continued, \u201cMy dear, tell Mr. Krill what his behavior has prompted us to do.\u201d
\u201cAh, Mr. Krill, you have inspired us to open the MOPOD as an extension of MOI.\u201d
\u201cMOPOD?\u201d
\u201cYes, Mr. Krill, MOPOD: The Museum of Pissed on Dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"