Somewhere between dreams two nights ago, in space, I wondered where I was and reconsidered my first gyroscope sighting. Was it in primary school or on Mr. Wizard?
No matter, the gyro’s twirling stirred me in unforgettable, indelible visions and sensations of balance and imbalance, order and chaos, nausea.
My dream field was black and cloudy. Spots sparked resembling prick-light-flashes in the vision field tests I've been taking, reminding me of those Psych Dept. perception experiments I loved; they paid you cash on the spot for describing what you saw.
Unfortunately, this time around I’m paying, and it’s all truth, consequences, diagnosis, prognosis.
I saw myself in a dream and I want to tell you everything was all right.
That is to say, I briefly caught a glimpse in the mirror of the back of my head and I looked better than I have in years.
I’m beginning to see the light. (It's coming a little softer.)
Flitting by, a false accusation of disloyalty from someone I care about disappears silently in a dark dust-cloud.
It’s a hard world to get a break in.
Over under sideways down.
All the good things have been taken.
We’ve got to get out of this place.
André Masson Images: Top – Automatic Drawing (1924); Bottom – Automatic Drawing (1925).