25 11, 2018

The Duck of Revolution Awakens

By | 2018-11-25T15:11:51+00:00 November 25th, 2018|Dreams|0 Comments

Dream of November 23, 2018: I am browsing the internet and come across a page entitled “Ducks of Cartersville”. The purpose of this page is to champion the revolutionary potential of ducks. I scroll the feed and see countless pictures of ducks, and people are discussing the revolutionary pros and cons of each duck in the comment section below each photo. – Steven

13 01, 2018

A Few Words on the Candles in the Bookstore by Ethan Vilu

By | 2018-01-13T14:46:00+00:00 January 13th, 2018|Dreams|0 Comments

It was a truly beautiful and elegant store, oblong and wooden, with giant curved shelves of books stacked high, up and into a painted, domed ceiling. Titles ranged from the universally known to the utterly esoteric, and there were journals and postcards, and travel guides to all of the wonders of the world. There were multi-coloured lights hanging from the ceiling, in red, orange, and the deepest blue, and there was a countertop of solid oak, where purchases were made. The staff had (innocently enough) placed three small candles on the counter, and they glowed with the faintest golden hue, beautifying the store. But something was amiss; the candles were not as they seemed. Suddenly they grew to an enormous size, and colossal, mountainous arms arose from their sides – arms with deep-seated veins, and flesh of an otherworldly rose-purple tinge. With these arms, they grabbed each and every book they could lay their hands on, and they threw the books into their flames, destroying them utterly. They decimated works by Milton and Kerouac, annihilated the postcards and pens, and eviscerated travel guides on Amsterdam and Kolkata. In no time at all, the entire store was in ruins, and the staff were seen walking among the ashes, shocked and horrified. At this point, all faded into blackness, and I realized once again where I was.

5 12, 2017


By | 2017-12-05T20:57:45+00:00 December 5th, 2017|Dreams|0 Comments

An oneiric communication from Bruno Jacobs to Jason Abdelhadi, December 4th 2017:

“Last night I dreamed that I saw the following internet publication of yours, ELEKTRON.

I think that it was a kind of newsletter, and it looked quite exactly like this anyway, with paragraphs that didn’t really make sense to me, including odd numbers and capitals and with certain words in color. I was also somewhat surprised that it looked like text did on early MD-DOS computers.”

8 10, 2017

Oneiric Warning by Jason Abdelhadi

By | 2017-10-08T20:44:37+00:00 October 8th, 2017|Dreams|0 Comments

One night as I was drifting off to sleep, the idea occurred to me that, just like a film, the start of a dream might also be preceded by a sort of copyright infringement warning:

WARNING: The unauthorized repression or alteration of this dream is illegal. Criminal subconscious infringement, including infringement that results in monetary gain, censorship of traumatic details, exclusion of unsavoury personalities and situations, or other forms of mis-remembering are investigated by the Oneiric Bureau of Investigation (OBI) and are punishable by up to five years in Dream Jail (where the only erotic thing you are allowed to dream about is flipping through an old Ikea catalogue), and a fine of 250,000 oneirodinars.

-Jason Abdelhadi


23 07, 2017

The Pogo Enigma

By | 2018-01-11T13:04:47+00:00 July 23rd, 2017|Dreams, Essay, Games, Image|0 Comments

SC: Mattias Forshage mentioned Pogo and the Okefenokee in an email, which set me off on a Pogo hunt, feeling something needed exploring down there in a vague sort of way. We only had time for a quick stop, and went to the more touristy entrance on the north. An interesting desolateness, still, and a weird little Pogo section too, old and past its prime. A Walt Kelly mannequin stuck behind glass drawing one strip in an infinite loop. We also spotted Pogo painted under a bridge and on a water tower in Waycross. Later driving home we came across a town called “Enigma”, which I felt compelled to detour into. Amusing seeing the signs leading up to it too… “20 Miles to Enigma”, “10 Miles to Enigma”, “Enigma City Limits”…. Very small downtown, and empty too.

JA: Unaware of any of the previous discussions around Pogo or the trip to Okefenokee, I had the following dream on June 5, 2017. That day I also created the accompanying image. However, I did not think to share it with Steven or Mattias until after I saw Steven and Casi’s images from their trip, a month later, when we discovered this curious enigma of conjoined Pogos.

JA’s Dream of June 5, 2017

Mattias Forshage puts out a zine called CCANADADA REVIEW which claims on the cover that it is a continuation of investigations started by the Prague surrealist group but also derived from some interesting people he met and games played at a Canadian comic convention. The subtitle contains a logo of a black reversed Canada flag just like the “Fuck the 150th Canada” logo. The cover is bright green. The content is exclusively related to cartoons and comic stuff. On the back page, there is a full page homage to a monster he claims appears in Walt Kelly’s Pogo: a giant goofy looking two headed turtle monster called OGOPOGO* who very much looks like a creature drawn in the Walt Kelly style. It has the body of a turtle, two cartoon crocodile heads and four arms. Basically a mashup of Albert Alligator, Churchy LaFemme and King Koopa. It is doing a sort of sumo shiko stomp. The homage page contains images of the monster as well as an article describing its qualities favourable to surrealism: its rage, magic abilities, strangeness, unpredictability etc.

There is also a handwritten note on green paper in one of the pages of the magazine which I cannot read. I am trying to read this while walking simultaneously with AC towards the War Memorial and eat a plantain, but she distracts me with something.

*Note: Ogopogo has been a recurring word and running inside joke in many of SC’s surrealist mail to me.

MF to JA: When I was trying to remember anything connected with the suggestive phrase Ccanadada I heard music in my head. Someone is singing “Floridada, floridada”, the same basic pun. It’s the title song of last year’s Animal Collective album, which the random shuffle generator on my music player clearly likes and has chosen to play for me five times in the few weeks since I imported the record (which is really a lot with a big library), after having purchased it in London, and in your company, if you remember the record which I asked for your bespectacled vision to check in the shop twilight whether the minute dull-pink print on the cream sleeve actually confirmed that it was last year’s album; this would have been a week after your dream. Animal Collective connects with Pogo and his friends, and Steven was asking me whether there was any place I could recommend from my time in Florida when I kept going on about Pogo instead.

18 04, 2015

Water Mormyrid – A Dream Record

By | 2016-11-30T02:58:43+00:00 April 18th, 2015|Dreams|0 Comments

I was a mormyrid composed of water. It was the most horrifying and yet delicious sense I had ever experienced. I could suddenly feel the sharp edges of my teeth fray from my eyeballs, like beams of light coming through a window on a warm Sunday morning.

– contributed by Ashley DeFlaminis

15 04, 2015

Garden Gar – A Perplexing Dream

By | 2017-02-25T12:07:27+00:00 April 15th, 2015|Dreams|0 Comments

A swarm of gar infested my back-yard vegetable garden. Whenever I ventured outdoors they gathered around me, attempting to nip at my ankles and ribs with their snapping jaws and elongated teeth. An expert on the matter informed me that a liberal spraying of lemon juice would help rid my garden of the infestation. Unfortunately the acidity of the spray only made the gar amorous and their numbers continued to increase until I feared the largest of the group would come crashing through my kitchen window.

Angel Dionne


15 04, 2015

Two Dreams

By | 2017-02-25T12:07:27+00:00 April 15th, 2015|Dreams|0 Comments

Casi Cline
I was walking through an empty airport, and I had the feeling that the world had been ending for a thousand years. My flesh was dripping and I needed a place for repairs. I came upon a conveniently located airport funeral home, but I soon discovered it only served people made of fruit.

Steven Cline
I am a branch on a giant bamboo tree. I slowly realize that all the other branches of the tree have a consciousness too, and we are connected as a hive mind. It is raining, and we are all consumed by the single minded idea to guide the water to the roots of the tree. As we do this, a dark haired nude women appears floating at the top of the tree. She is only a torso, arms, and a head. We are filled with awe think she is some sort of goddess. We begin to worship her. Suddenly, the scene changes and I am no longer a branch, just a disembodied mind. The women is stuck in a dark air duct, crying and smearing shit on the walls. At this moment I wake up, fearing scorpions in the bed.