MY CUBIST CONSCIENCE
Dreamed 1982/8/5; drawn 1983; 14 x 17", ink and Sanford erasable crayon; by Chris Wayan
I dream that my weird friends and I wander a 3-D maze. We're fierce as caged animals, hungry to escape, but we have to watch out--it's all right angles, nothing rounded--and those crisp, sharp edges can cut.
I was slow to realize what this maze was. I'd built it myself: it was the maze of my radical pacifist vegetarian feminist anarchist conscience!
My cubist conscience.
I bike through the maze. Know my goal, just not the best route to it. Head southwest and up...
I can reshape the maze lucidly, to some extent--hard work to visualize the changes clearly enough, but when I do, the maze obey. I will the halls to widen, the sharp corners to soften. The latter fails, but the maze does get a little easier. I find I can even open sealed doors just by willing them to. Telekinesis!
At last, I TK a pair of doors open and find a BIG altar-room. Cluttered, but more open than any space yet. I “altar” it more, remove screens, unify it.
We're still not free. But with hard work I can alter my cubist conscience.
A harsher cage than anything archists ever built.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
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