After the dream, a forgetting and a denial, the lack of acceptance as to what may be recalled, a re-piecing of the dream must take place.
A positive movement of thought, a restoration, a bringing back that is dependant on much I could carry, an incantation almost, entirely dependant on the lines I was to chant and the level of mysticism I could approach, dependant on circumstance and ability, more than will or desire in this instance.
The surveying takes place upon waking; for truthfulness, or at least rawness, the actualisation, the reality of the dream must remain within the dream state. Any analysis is a falsity. A summon back to awareness of with the subject or situation at hand. Sequencing as I wake. A numbering, filing, posting, marking. Thinking back to these sleeping revelations is an act of transcendence in itself, a process of qualification above and beyond the necessary. A rudimentary delineation of form and fact and matter.
It is dominated by the aroma of coffee, segregating the granules in the bottom of the percolator, a little water and the timely wait, chance to reduce the morning to sections, to doing and not doing, to lay out the foundations of a timetabled day. In thinking forward though, we must think back.
However the recall is also broached negatively, a patchy disembodiment of the luridness and realness, the me of the dream. To recall also infers a cancelling, a taking back, a revoking. This is the denial of thought.
It is the blotting and smudging of details, the application of water to wash out the themes and aptitude of the thoughts that became unfurled during sleep, a bleaching of the fabric until the uncomfortable sights and motions that were placed into transition during the lonely hours at night.
The application of consistency and foresight, a matching of parts, a naming of parts.
This leads to an easy remembrance, an almost passive sacrifice in which what is told, is only what is heard. Other words fall from the skies, like birds in winter.