Dream Weaver 4.8

dream-waever

Our emotions are nothing but politics.

Every thought is a dream.

We have control over all of these.

Your mind is a machine. You don’t dream of what you haven’t fueled the engine with. This is more complex than it seems and also much simpler. You build your own internal culture. This is not to say we can’t dream of things that don’t exist; we create the non-existent through thought.

There is tongue in the desert avenging your guilt in the shadows of birds.

What are you building?

Contentment seems a goal, but what does it mean to be content now?

There is a boy circling a lemon tree, and when I say lemon I mean boy.

What I’m asking is: Are you content with the brutality that surrounds you?

I think contentment is a lazy dream. Often, when you tell someone that you’re not living a wonderful life, they’ll confront you with your options. This is a good as it gets. It’s either this, or North Korea. It’s either this or Liberia. All of this is a lack of dreams.

You must refuse to accept the possibilities offered to you by the world’s current configuration. You must feed your dreams with this refusal until new possibilities are born. This is how we heal.

Freud wrote about the rewards of neuroses, but you don’t need to read Freud to see how society rewards a lack of imagination, a lack of dreams. It is the dreamer’s duty to refuse this, to shit on contentment.

I am a lion, feeding myself the meat of a dream.

Our emotions are nothing but politics. So are our dreams.

This dream can be anything, and this is part of what the waking means. We practice in one dream for another. None of this needs to make us miserable, either.

It’s hard to be happy while refusing to accept the atrocities of capitalism, or states, of power. But maybe this too stems from a lack of imagination, of dreaming. Happiness and contentment are not the same things. You can allow yourself love in a time of war.

I allow you this vast and silent now.

Religions teach about heaven and hell, but maybe each moment has an afterlife. Maybe each moment of thought is a state of heaven or hell, or anything in between, anything we can dream.

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About Adam Tedesco

Adam Tedesco is a founding editor of REALITY BEACH, a journal of new poetics. His recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Laurel Review, Gramma Weekly, Prelude, Pouch Powderkeg, Fanzine, Fence, and elsewhere. He is the author of several chapbooks, most recently HEART SUTRA, and ABLAZA (Lithic Press), and the forthcoming collection Mary Oliver (Lithic Press, 2019). View all posts by Adam Tedesco

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