My mind wanders somewhat. Wonder where in what world it is trying to take me. Does it want me to see an especially special sight only seen by me?(say the first two sentences three times fast if i get to boring you) Its similar to riding back seat in a limo on rout to a Hollywood movie premiere. I step out and in an instant I'm transported to a cosmos of images, sounds, and smells. Weightlessness, I'm sitting down yet feel as if I'm soaring. Are the things I'm watching, hearing, and feeling real? Well of course the are! The dreamworld is no more fake than the feeling of pain, its all in your head and real at the same time. A dual existence whose soul purpose is to guide you.
Keeping in connection with my groups topic and title I have navigated into the dream world. In class we talked about being obsessed about something. I have been consumed by the fluidity of the brains reveal, the rich content pouring out like sand through finger tips. No matter how hard you grasp all you are left with is trace amounts of what once filled the space. Many things have triggered a set of events in my cranium, from the visions of a fantasy world to dreams in spanish or even a magazine cover. There is no end to the possibilities attainable from the use of the dream state. Painters, bakers, and yes even writers all make use of the unseen ideas laying dormant beyond the seemingly empty, dark, vast regions enclosed in bone and flesh. That would be in simple terms all the possibilities you could ever think of if ever given the chance. Which is to say you might go mad given the chance to unleash all bats lingering in your belfry.
I have been consumed by a passage in Yates' "Art of Memory." In chapter II labeled, "The Art of Memory in Greece: Memory and The Soul," (page 47 for those that like to follow along) we dive into just exactly what has consumed me. Behold in the plains, and caves, and caverns of my memory, innumerable and innumerably full of innumerable kinds of things, either as images, as all bodies; or by actual presence, as the arts; or by certain notions and impressions, as the affections of the mind, which, even when the mind doth not feel, the memory retaineth."
This arrangement of words has entered into my head like a bookmarked page of a book i was in the midst of writing but could not divulge as eloquently. This chapter speaks to the soul of ones mind, its imagination and its calculating chaos strike like asteroids crashing into planets forever changing the landscape. Almost everyone has been imprinted by things you might not have recognized, but has been imprinted to the memory banks of the fluid, ever changing thoughts that fill the neurons coursing through ones head.
Once you grab hold the concept of entering an infinite and ever-changing world within your head, the memory palace contains an equal about of rooms and corridors to journey into. Countless combinations, contributing to an uncanny unconscious, that once enter is hard to leave.
