u/xeno_cocoon

How is a dream a dream if it isn't remembered?

Many of us share this always dreaming convention in which one says, "I did not dream," and the interlocutor replies, "No. Rather, you did dream, as a sleeping mind always does. You simply don't remember."

What's an unrecorded dream? Is an event experienced if the sole available experiencer is an unconscious subject?

Maybe events occured on my surface while I slept, but no one there was inclined to record them. Maybe that was a choice.

I wish I could remember a dream and carry that puzzling and non-verbal signification with me through another day of editing reports.

I hope you remember a dream. I hope you get that unspeakable symbol of yourself to roll around on your tongue without linguistic invocation. It's only ever yours.

I was in a rugged zone for a few days. The terrain was puzzling. I found these questions over there:

Is trauma foundational?

Are we inherently built by an implicitly teleological attempt to restore a foundational loss? Are the circumstances of that attempt (opaque) inherently tied to that loss, and thus inherently barred from conscious recognition?

Is the subject fucked beyond repair, and if so, are we deterministically set to comedically move toward restoration of that which must remain broken if we're to be human subjects at all? (No escape.)

Can we reject the command to solve the problem and live in the rift, smooth it into a fold in an unbroken topology? (Fold forms an overhanging shelter, enclosing site of production.)

These questions are not begging for an answer. They are marbles rolling on a recently subducted surface.

A toad in a burrow

invaded by a snake

will appear as any other toad in motion

searching for a new home.

I cannot concentrate on stealing time from my employer to read as planned because this episode recalled some things about my early life up to now.

Occasionally shuddering. I can barely write this. My mind keeps wandering. Remembering.

This has been happening to me my whole life. Repeatedly. Started when I was a kid. Other kids, adults. Should never have happened.

Old memories pouring in. I wish I could be more clear, but it's hard to verbalize it. Trauma resists discursive elaboration. It's the unutterable.

Sorry. I usually try to express myself in a way that makes a kind of sense, even if that's some kind of attempt at the poetic. I don't know what I'm doing right now. I think I just want to say something. Therapist said sit with it, that maybe I'm moving too fast.

I like the pace, but I can't understand ontology right now, and that's what I want to be understanding. Maybe this is all a failed intellectual defense by a dissociative nervous system.

sorry. this is self-indulgent. I'm crashing out, but slowly and with a nice breeze. I think I just want it seen, maybe known, if the above can contribute to any kind of viable knowing.

I enjoy the podcast.

tldr stalked since I was a kid, recently realized, and feeling unusually foggy (for me)

edit: just checked the rules, sorry if I'm fucking up the vibe