It’s time to write.
Free writing, what writing, about anything. Let the words spill, flow, flow onto the page like so much ink taking form without shape keep going this is a train of consciousness thing, ya dig?
Keep going. He looked like a dragon, you say? That one who came up in the drawing years, years ago; the one with two arms, no feet, just a long tail. He came up in a session…you remember what we were supposed to be drawing about? the unconscious
and yes this is like figure drawing, gesture drawing — get it all out now you know it’s there keep going. That form, diving into the waters, the salted waters of that ocean, pristine. Holy sea. At the bottom, there, the special ones, the ones who give their life to bear up the jewels, jewels of dreams.
Can’t remember anymore what dreams exactly they were. Only that He would collect them, read them, express them. This was his art; pearl diving to retrieve jewels of wisdom collected in the salton sea.
Then there is the other one, the one you thought of before. Not always a great thing to make up narratives around things that exist in reality, which histories you know not. The quartz orb which was really melted down stone, melted down from, you thought, fossil. Fossil which contained the life energy of something ancient. At the stone store which doesn’t exist anymore, you heard the employees talking about bad energy coming off of fossils and how to redirect it with geodes. Amethyst. Could they really do that? Or did they know what they were talking about, more apparently.
It is obvious you realize you remember when you were writing about this in that dark place and you said to imprison a soul after a body has died you encase it in stone. Stone absorbs the spirit, traps the spirit with the body. Fossil…must be cleansed before use, must be housed in such a way that the spirit of the creature is not dehumanized, treated as an object. If it were your body on display you would want as much.
Right on, keep going, keep going. We didn’t set a time limit for this, did we? I wonder when it will be right to stop. As things stand I’ve got at least a good page here, now. But that dragon guy — different from the dragon guy who told you that you were a golden dragon from another planet — the one from your drawing. You haven’t really spoken with him, have you? You’ve imagined him and seen him, and he is a metaphor for you in some ways, in the same way as you are a metaphor for me. (ha! top that)
But really, dreams, not telekinesis, what is it called, psychometry, is the reason that you have so many stones. They helped you heal in some way from your earliest depression and so you kept on with them. Still have that medicine pouch, though none of the stones are in use, now. Too cold, maybe, for incense, as well, but they are in there. Maybe, you are draconic in some kind of way. Collecting precious things, that is. Who does that? Everyone? At least, me.
Of course, then, they sit there unused and require reliquary boxes and the like. But it isn’t so bad. To write fiction you have to let your mind wander. You have to let your mind loose, free, hope it stays in one piece after it’s let loose from the bounds of technicality and reason. Could be that it was just too much for you then, but then you weren’t using this type of free-write, keep it moving, constant stream of thought against the whiteness of your screen. In this, it’s easier to recognize that what’s going on is really some kind of organization and that it doesn’t all have to be real.
Doesn’t have to be real?
Hmm. That frees up a lot of directions. Not least, …not least, being able to write about things without fear of them lashing back on you. Most people don’t publish this stuff, so I think, this kind of drabble that goes on and on and isn’t grounded in any level of reality except the psychological.
Maybe that’s a key you could use for your art.
You were talking about keys so long ago, weren’t you? Is it your destiny to become master of the keys? But what does it matter unless you enter the doorway? Doorways.
I think you could collect keys. Windows in on the sacred realm of the inexistent. Since, you know, you like to collect things. Dragon-boy collects keys in His pearls. That is their value; to most others they are just little shiny droplets. The content behind them, what made them, what they say, that is the real value.
‘Twould be interesting to keep a key book. Train of thought is one of them. Gesture drawing, another one. Free yourself. Free your mind from its bounds and moorings, and dive.