Noise. Flowing of the air
A river beneath as quiet as moonlight
Down, into the abyss
A paper white ceiling hangs flat and unyielding
Pencil columns punch the veil

Les Couleurs Primaires
Rouge et Bleu Nuit égal à Foncé Violet

Coloured threads dictate the motion
Fireflies burst from a clouded vine
A metal stream of scattered words
Betwixt and between it spirals around
In endless cycles it keeps on roaring:

“What is abolished in time
cannot orate the word that draped over the murk”

Stories intertwining defying impact
Merging a pattern compressed within
Stairs amidst arched-capped tunnels
Articulate the votive flow of humanity
Coruscating the afterglow of vapour trails

Past and Present
become magma in the fog of the coloured quarters of my soul

PROLOGUE: The content of my dreams does not have the logical sequence of physical reality, and is beyond the conscious control of what is experienced. Nothing happens randomly – but is stimulated by the subconscious that uses a symbolic language to express itself.

The experience of a series of images, sounds or other sensations, ideas, feelings and forms create a story. The month November, motivated me to write a poem – and that poem found its way inside a dream I had a couple of days after writing the poem – and the dream revealed what accompanies the writings I share: a mixed media artwork. Three sections, same theme. I tested my creativity and pushed myself hard to depict a faithful atmosphere, and make sure the distinctive elements my dream manifested were reflected accurately through my piece of art. Upon completing this artistic duty, I willingly fall into a cataplexic contemplation.

November 3rd, 2018
CAVERN DREAM: I found myself sitting at the back seat of my car when I realized I was parked outside the Spilaio Limnon at Kalavrita (Cave of the Lakes) in the east-central part of the regional unit of Achaea, Greece. Unsure how I got there, but strongly sensed this was the place I was meant to be. I started heading towards the obscure tall double gate door, trying to see my way through the cavern entrance. It felt like I was descending and walking on a bouncy sponge like corridor. While observing the guts of the cavern, I could not tell how far overhead the ceiling was – nevertheless, the atmosphere was surrounded by tiny blinking shimmering shapes floating in the air. “An ordinary element of caves”, I thought, and carried on to what became the focus of my artwork. The shimmering shapes were concentrated in a great hall I was now standing in awe; Massive stalagmites and stalactites rose before me creating a stone forest, while my mesmerized senses savored the rhythm of the music of the waters within the rocks. The stalagmites and stalactites were swiftly shaping themselves and taking the forms of hands, women’s torsos, cards of all sorts, broken wings, and scattered words drifting away whilst divided far and wide, yet all returned to what appeared to be an old-fashioned funnel that was suctioning the floating shimmering shapes and paraphernalia that found their way to the funnels mouth – only to be spat out to what the funnel considered was instantaneously stimulated by my subconscious. My hands were grasping tightly a sheet of thin cardboard as I uttered “I will answer the question that was not asked”. The dream concludes staring down at the piece I was still holding in my hands thinking that this is precisely what I should submit to Peculiar Mormyrid.