Dream 1

Public notice has been given, and I am now at the designated time and place for a gathering of folks who are interested in the upcoming performance event that I am coordinating. This information/discussion session is open to anyone who is interested. All are invited.

When the group is assembled, I begin my general presentation, proceeding in detail. I note that this new venture is a continuation of a great many such ventures I have coordinated in the past, but that the present approach and format will be distinctly different than any that have come before. I become increasingly passionate about this opportunity and offer a cogent, well-composed speech.

But then I realize that behind me is the figure of my father, who is shadowing my presentation. At one point I am aware that he has made some kind of aggressive and snide remark using the n-word. He is playing around that word, as I remember various folks doing so often, in various shadings of pronunciation, such as talking about  “the nigra” and another time more formally saying “Negro,” but then sliding back to the degrading n-word.
 I become extremely angry with him and tell him to stop. Stop. Stop! 
Approaching him, I speak directly and forcefully straight into his face, staring into his eyes. Still he is recalcitrant and does not seem to get it.

 So I grab his lapels and draw his face closer and shout out, 

The next time you utter that word will be the last time you ever see me! 

I turn around, then, and register that nearly everyone has left. This outburst of my father is the probable cause.

Dream 2

I’m at a gathering of several friends and colleagues, mostly from the Jean Gebser Society, and we are discussing the Klein Bottle. We have a white-board with markers and my friend D—, a professor at a state university, has used the board to indicate the structure and meaning of the KB. However, I am aware that the most radical significance is being lost. So I join in. Standing, I move to the board. While carefully explaining what I am doing, I draw an image of the KB, leading the discussion forward step by step in full teaching mode. Things are going well.

 “But the true Klein Bottle cannot exist in a three-dimensional world,” I say. “It requires four dimensions. To behold the Klein Bottle in four dimensions is to behold a true self-signifying symbol, a vessel of a new awaring.” 

I pause to register how this seems to be sinking in among us. 

Is an alteration of the prevailing, Cartesian, three-dimensional mentality occurring as the four-dimensional field is beheld? 

Are we sharing an experience of the Klein Bottle as symbol of “global locality” and of the cosmic depth in which we now find our true selves—and new selves—to be embodied? 

If so, everything belongs, and everything changes.