Absurd Chaos

Velvet skies and purple dreams. We all dream; even if we don’t remember, we all do. It’s our internal language, a language that precedes all languages, an ancient form of communication, the oldest miscommunication. It’s inherent, it’s physical, it’s visceral. It’s ours and it’s us. The purest form of an “I”. Yet, we let a trivial and empty thing called “practical life” get in the way of Nature’s monologue.

ode to my subconscious : I always remember my dreams. My subconscious is a well of pure imagination and I appreciate it being a constant and reliable source of inspiration. The following is a dream I had last night.  Calle Montera, Madrid 1922. Source: Pinterest So, I found myself walking in Calle Montera in Madrid, Spain with my cousins; they were visiting from Egypt and I was determined to show them around and also show them how I live and stop having to pretend or "soften myself and blur my personality around the edges" for them.  Ergo I took them to a fictional café from a distant memory, it was night-time but the lights the small café were emitting were so strong it was almost day-time. We each took a seat in the terrace and me and one of my cousins, let's call her Mia, started collecting the orders; we went to the counter to order and I almost bit back mentioning that this was a very famous bar for cocktails and that it's not your typical café, ...