The Divinatory Crowd of Dreams

 

Dream time does not exist like clock time.
One of my earliest memories is an archaic dream from my early childhood, I was about four years old…
Dreams have always fascinated me, and I am convinced that I will never be able to forget some dreams that are engraved in my mind in the same way that Antonin Artaud’s words « There is magic in living » are engraved.
All societies have drawn on the resources of dreams, which tap into the mysterious essence of the mind steeped in magical thinking…
Manifestations of the beyond, prophecies, messages from spirits, dreams have always been subject to interpretation, long before the invention of psychoanalysis…
Eros and Thanatos have become the life drive and the death drive… but healing through the expression of the message of dreams remains a form of magical thinking…
Dreams are our inner nature that echoes the nature of the world…
The dream writes itself like a wild plant that grows alone in the soil, it is telluric and ethereal, it is rooted in the impulsive body, and at the same time it flies away to travel the irrational field…
Art is a kind of waking dream, and art, like dreams, is often visionary…
Dreams are also premonitory in that it is the beginning of the act of creation… the dream opens onto another dream… even more delirious… the poem is the dream of the dream.
Poems, like dreams, are a numinous fragment of magic, a thousand-faceted mirror in which everyone can read their own reality…
I think the poet’s way of being in the world is animist… poets feel the vibrations of life… of dreaming of reality…
the enigmatic dimension of the dream is the source of their inspiration… rather than seeking reality through interpretation,

they create the reality of dreams…