The Dreaming Sea

In a moment of serendipity, I found two artists converging on a singular thought. First I read this post at AlogMantra;

Last night I had a dream about the French composer Erik Satie. 

Only now that I downloaded some of his music, and am listening to it entranced, that the words I needed to write this note are beginning to emerge from my fingers dancing to Gnossienne N3. The note would help clarify my thoughts about how data travels through nature, and re-emerges as forces and events of global scope, such as the financial crash that everyone is talking about. 

Awake, we are struck by the magnifique spectacle of our own being, the Narcissus hypnotised by his own mirror-image, but it is only when we are asleep, that we enter the Reticulum, the memetic screaming chaos of every little stimuli that impinges on the subconscious, a churning howl of thoughts and echoes, we log into the dreaming sea, we dip a tentacle into the global mind. 

Before the dawn of the internet, there were other entities (and still are) that had the capability to connect consciousness on a planetary scale, that were the internet of the pre-industrial, pre-telegraphic, pre-electric age. I speak of routers that stand before our very eyes, omnipresent and accessible yet remote, serving the same image to the wretched mass of humanity thrown across the globe like pollen in the wind. These astrosocial nodes - the Sun and the Moon, the ghostly constellations - provide the common ground that geographically separated populations use to accumulate their knowledge about the world, a layer of knowledge that is both timeless and urgent. 

Of course, it is very wise to say that the financial crash was coming after it has already begun. Any rational idiot can do that. But for many of us, the financial crisis of 2008 was the culmination of a yet inarticulable (or not yet confessed) intuition, anticipation, premonition - the dream becoming manifest, the nightmare all too real. 

For some of us, it is a release of blocked up streaming data that cannot be released from the dreamworld into the socium upon its arrival at the spout, because the socium has rules of conduct and discourse. In the dreamworld, on the other hand, memories, fears, prophecies and thoughts run amock with the nuclear force of imagination, like a million souls of the departed stuck in some black hole centrifuge. The cryptological protocol that protects the Reticulum is strangely distributed, such as a certain piece of music that can take you back, awake, back into the spaces where you heard it first, puncturing a worm-like hole into the heart of social protocol and time. Like a pin-hole camera takes you to a world beyond the aperture, inverted and fuzzy.

When awake, we are perhaps propelled by the unseen but active force of this memetic centrifuge, churning like a gyroscope within our being, leading us over the daily algorithms, and towards new things. It is the centrifugal force of this dreaming sea, that launches us into new spaces and dynamics, makes us interact with new physical agents, and causes new events in the world. 

The rolling of every stone, the carrying of every Neanderthal manuport, and the crashing of every clock gone awry - is a direct result of these vectors that rise from the fuming, dreaming sea.

On a whim, I did a search on youtube and found this music video;

Some people say I'm a dreamer, they are correct...but I'm not the only one...