Started dreaming again after a long, long dry dream spell. Where do we go at night, in our sleep? It doesn’t matter, as long as it is somewhere else, not here, not here. We need to roam through this dreamscape of ours in order to return to reality, to enter wakefulness as a warm, longed for home.
The idea of “home” can not exist outside the dichotomies “here and there”, “inside and outside”. Outside the notion of “inside-outside” there is no outside, there is no inside, there is only a place which isn’t there. A paradox. An empty signifier. A signifier without a signified. A “no-where”. A “no-place”. In other words - placelessness, “u-topia”*. A total and unthinkable abstraction, complete abolition of reality.
Without dreams, confined to this permanent home of a “here” without a “there”, I am homeless - drifting into the unreality of non-existence.
I am, because from the “there” of the dream I can dream that I am not here.
