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Dream Images

This group is for those who have used art to express the memory of their dreams.

Location: Portland, Oregon
Members: 27
Latest Activity: Jun 20, 2023

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Comment by Guido Vermeulen on June 3, 2012 at 11:38pm

A MAIL ART DREAM.

I am boarding a train, traveling from city to city. On the road other artists join us and we decide to alter the train into a collective art piece,

We are altering the train on a permanent base, constructing, deconstructing and reconstructing again.We use wood, paper, metal, paint, all kind of tools.

On a certain moment the benches are nailed to the ceiling and we start painting the floor. Then the benches go down again but we change the whole composition.

We are not sitting row by row anymore but in squares, circles, ovals, triangles.

In several connecting wagons we make our own maze.

New people board the train with new ideas and we change everything again. We are not freezed in the past or in existing patterns or frameworks.

We have so much fun.

I hear one of Lavona’s grandchildren telling everybody: ART IS FUN.

(Oh, is she on the train 2?!)

Yes, we are all the living proof of that!

Where does this journey goes?

To the mail art village!

We arrive in a strange old village where people all wear clothes of the 18th centry and are reading mail art letters.

Where is your archive? I ask 2 old ladies.

Lady 1:

That’s the well behind us. It is a mail art well. It is full of art and letters we have received the last 250 years.

Lady 2:

It is a wonder well. It is also our Po Box. We drop in our own mail art and the earth takes care of transportation and destination.

They surface in other wells all over the planet.

Me:

Really?

The ladies in unison:

Yes, Make a well in your own garden or in your own village. You’ll see!

Me:

What about the post office?

Lady 1:

After the last privatization mailing art became outlawed and nobody or only a few people used the private service, so it closed.

Lady 2:

That’s why some us came up with the idea of the wells and it worked!

Lady 1:

We have several wells in the village. This is the Ray Johnson well, we have a Cavellini well.

2 giant African heads are popping from the houses and oracle:

Don’t forget the Cryptic one, the male giant head says.

The Carla Cryptic one, the femail giant head adds.

Me:

Are you from South Africa?

The giants in unison:

Are you nuts, we are from old Madagascar!

Me:

ARAHABA

They:

SALAMA

The 2 Ladies:

Oh you speak the language of the well wel!

Me:

But that’s Malgache!

The giants:

We are the protectors of the wells and this mail art village.

Me:

I must be dreaming again or I am in paradise.

Can I ask for political asylum here?

Lady 1:

We don’t have such stupid procedures here!

Lady 2:

Just do some mail art and you are part of our village.

Me to the other passengers of the train:

Come on, let’s all do this!

The first who respond and act positively are my 2 cats who jump inside the well to play with all the mail art.

Me:

Buzz and Tarantino, where do you come from?

I do not remember taking them with me on the train but there they are.

The giants are smiling. The old ladies are making purring noises 2 to encourage the 2 male cats.

Everybody is applauding. The applause gets stronger and stronger and

I wake up from the noise, in bed and in Brussels and I have the mail art blues.

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on June 3, 2012 at 2:12am

A DREAM ABOUT THE LIMITS OF TRAVELING

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on June 3, 2012 at 2:11am

I OFTEN RETURN TO THE SAME PLACES WHEN I DREAM

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on June 1, 2012 at 2:13am

Small painted envelope for PC Tictac with some DREAM RESIDUE

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 28, 2012 at 11:28pm

Another reconstructed dream has been published on the art and lit group on IUOMA and on my own lamusar blog.

http://lamusar.blogspot.com

DREAM FRAGMENTATION IN NUMBERS.

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 27, 2012 at 11:55pm

Another reconstructed dream from last night:

A DREAM ABOUT VIOLENCE and SHOES and TRYING TO FIND A WAY OUT.

I am in te middle of a discussion with another guy who is loosing ground and becomes very angry.

Shut the f*** up, he yells at me, or I’ll become violent in a while.

He looks a bit like my brother but he is not my brother.

I continue to reason with him because I like the controversy of our debate.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he shouts and changes into somebody close to the incredible Hulk. His muscles are swollen and thick. I see the veins pulsing in his face. He blows up like an elephant but all I see is a giant torso, shoulders, part of the back, arms with fists like sledgehammers but no legs or feet at all.

I am going to kill you, he mumbles.

How are you going to do this if you only have a torso, is my final question and I walk away from the ugly scene towards a nearby town.

I try to find a bar because I am thirsty after all that shouting and menaces.

I see what I think is a bar but it is not, it is a mix of a giant shop and a factory.

Conveyor belts run thru the place from different sides at ones. It is like being caught in a maze. On the conveyors are a mixture of shoes, men shoes, women shoes, shoes for children, orthopedic shoes, shoes for little people even. I try to get out but I cannot find the entrance anymore.

I am puzzled. How do I leave this crazy place? I ask to a shopkeeper wh olooks a bit like my brother but who is not my brother.

You have to choose a pair of shoes, says the guy.

Man, I am like Alice in Wonderland but instead of eat me, drink me, it is pick up a pair of shoes!

I pay for a pair of ladies shoes, all sparkling, with many colors and little stars and ribbons around them, a pair of art shoes for my friend Liza is my thinking. Suddenly I see an escape door.

I take the subway to visit Liza when a train arrives at the platform. I see another lady friend of mine entering the train. I have not seen her in years, so I follow her and try to connect with her on the train. I go from wagon to wagon but without any success. It is like she is vanished in thin air!

Louise, Louise, I cry, where are you? It is Guido here!!

In the last wagon a lot of people are packed before a bar. A jazz orchestra is playing New Orleans music and people are drinking and dancing and talking loudly because of the noise.

Midgets are carrying the drinks between the people. They have naked torsos but wear pants and a bow tie. We have to be careful or we trample on them, a drunken man whispers to me.

He looks a bit like my brother but is not my brother.

That’s why we leave our shoes behind, so we cannot hurt the little folk.

Everybody has indeed bare feet. Are you a cross dresser, a woman asks me, she looks like my niece but is not my niece. No, these are escape shoes for Liza, I explain.

The train fades away and changes into a giant bed. Everybody is asleep. I try to look thru the window and am facing a black wall which is crossing by at incredible speed. I focus on the wall and then see that the background color is black but that the wall has several colors (mainly red blue, yellow and orange). The colors make forms and shapes, without any meaning, almost amoebic forms, asemics in strange patterns and rhythms, no clear harmony or balance.

I close my eyes and open them again to focus more on the wall. Lights sparkle in my retina.

I feel someone is jumping on my legs.

I close my eyes and open them again and see the wooden cupboard in my bedroom.

My youngest kitten is walking on my legs.

Did you bring any shoes for my poor paws, he asks me and I return to sleep at once.

Guido Vermeulen, May 2012

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 24, 2012 at 1:23am

Last night I dreamt I saw Paul Klee.

Small painted envelope, no destination yet

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 23, 2012 at 1:38am

People who fear anarchy fear their own dreams,

an  envelope for Meg Taney Founds, USA

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 16, 2012 at 1:53am

The dream of the harp is quite impredictable because transitory

Collage A4 size

Comment by Guido Vermeulen on May 12, 2012 at 4:34pm

More dreams from last night, cascade ones, so no inner relations unless you are a psycho-analyst:

1) I want to know where my cats are and arrive in a strange garden. A small white bear is sitting there on the shoulder of a giant lady. She is breathtaking, has large black hair ands wears a bright black dress. I look to the bear who is quite happy and tells me he is on her shoulder because it highlightens its white fur!

Still no signs of my kittens. A flock of movement appears in the sky, I try to focus on them and understand it is a flock of birds, a flock of pelicans even, but when I focus even more my view they are not photographic but cartoon drawn with an abundance of colors that blinds my eye sight! I am living inside a comic story I think disgusted and try to leave on the spot!

2) I decide to return back from this strange garden. I walk into even stranger halls of what seems to be a very narrow factory construction. First I meet what looks to me like slave workers, they ignore me because they are quite scared and avoid any possible eye contact. Second room is a filled with laborants in white coats, they experiment with whatever is available in the room and are quite angry with my presence: I am an unwelcome intruder! Some of these assholes I recognize from former job situations and I run away as quick as I can, disgusted by seeing them again!

Why all these cancers have not died of awful cancers goes thru my head and I am regretting this reflection on the spot!

Third and final room is full of naked workers coming from the showers, men and women mixed, they all have doom and gloom in their eyes, look to me as if I do not really exist. They are all incredibly ugly, hair growing on every parts of their bodies, even the femail ones! They all look terribly angry and unhappy, almost ready to committ rape and murder! DO not stay here, a woman shouts, this is not your crowd!

3) I try to escape from this nonsense factory and come into an open field when I break a door without any pain or bloodshed. I check my own body in awe!

4) I close my eyes and try to see colors to escape the past nightmare.

A labour manifesto text I cannot read is projected before my eyes:

The first 5 statements are in black: the next 5 one are in white but the 10 sentences are all on the same blue background. I have no clue what this is about BUT breakthru!

 

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