(no subject)
Mar. 22nd, 2006 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethI just had the strangest, trippiest dream
it was kind of a Doctor Who thing
the Doctor claimed he was John Lennon
in another life, obviously
he did the accent and put on glasses to demonstrate
but it was 7, so the effect was very strange.
He had a star on the underneath of his chin, with stars on each point, ***. It might have had 8 points, or 10 or 12, I didn't really count. I was more noticing the fractal nature of it, star made of stars. Suited him.
I could see it because we were doing handstands in the middle of a room in the process of becoming a famous surrealist painting/installation. Some of the floor painting was done, but not all finished, and most of the objects were yet to come. The artist had been dead for years by my time, and I had the whole thing memorised, but we were there, in the making of it.
We were upside down to see what would fall out. Things from our pockets, falling at random, exactly where they'd be in all the photos of that place for a hundred years. It was wild. Time travelling surrealist art.
I also left my garter. Removed with my foot while upside down. Which is pretty freakin surreal right there.
We'd already contributed to the museum, as it would become. Left a certain long knitted item tying open a door, wrapped around walls and tied up to the base of the stairs. Looking at it, wondering how to get people to leave it there, I said considering this was an art museum all we needed was a label. A note or a postcard. Just say why it was art, and it was. They'd leave it there half way to forever.
Doctor grinned at that one.
Art is weird, though. Everyday bits of things become art because someone invests them with meaning. If they had meaning to the artist, and preferably to whoever sees them later, then they are in fact art. Trippy.
I woke up feeling so stoned. I have no excuse, all I took was a nap. At 7ish at night, I think.
But now I feel weirdly good. Cool.
Dreams are trippy.
it was kind of a Doctor Who thing
the Doctor claimed he was John Lennon
in another life, obviously
he did the accent and put on glasses to demonstrate
but it was 7, so the effect was very strange.
He had a star on the underneath of his chin, with stars on each point, ***. It might have had 8 points, or 10 or 12, I didn't really count. I was more noticing the fractal nature of it, star made of stars. Suited him.
I could see it because we were doing handstands in the middle of a room in the process of becoming a famous surrealist painting/installation. Some of the floor painting was done, but not all finished, and most of the objects were yet to come. The artist had been dead for years by my time, and I had the whole thing memorised, but we were there, in the making of it.
We were upside down to see what would fall out. Things from our pockets, falling at random, exactly where they'd be in all the photos of that place for a hundred years. It was wild. Time travelling surrealist art.
I also left my garter. Removed with my foot while upside down. Which is pretty freakin surreal right there.
We'd already contributed to the museum, as it would become. Left a certain long knitted item tying open a door, wrapped around walls and tied up to the base of the stairs. Looking at it, wondering how to get people to leave it there, I said considering this was an art museum all we needed was a label. A note or a postcard. Just say why it was art, and it was. They'd leave it there half way to forever.
Doctor grinned at that one.
Art is weird, though. Everyday bits of things become art because someone invests them with meaning. If they had meaning to the artist, and preferably to whoever sees them later, then they are in fact art. Trippy.
I woke up feeling so stoned. I have no excuse, all I took was a nap. At 7ish at night, I think.
But now I feel weirdly good. Cool.
Dreams are trippy.