October 21, 2017 (Saturday)

by Yule Heibel on October 20, 2018

Woke up at 5a.m., but instead of drowsing superficially in anticipation of soon having to get up, I went back into a deep – and dream-filled – sleep till just after 8. I had lots of dreams; even the 5a.m. wake-up was preceded by dreams. Unfortunately, I’m terrible at remembering them, although one did involve sightseeing in an almost underground city which resembled Siena just a little bit because of all the stairs / steps and the suggestion of a greatly miniaturized Campo …and (I just remembered) the endless market stalls of Florence, perhaps even a Ponte Vecchio kind of structure.

And, in this dream, I had a dog, and it was some version of Jigger (our old Cairn terrier). There was a key moment where he had stopped following us through the crowd (not sure who “us” was); he was unleashed, and he lost track of “us.” And then I saw him, yards upon yards away, lying on steps above where we were (think “Campo-as-staircase”). I could just glimpse him through the crowd, and I managed to call him, and he sensed us and succeeded in running back to us. He had lost us, he was already quite old and deaf. But my calling wasn’t what he heard or sensed: it was our energy, the waves I created by my sound, which hit him and pointed him in the right direction, allowing him to use his nose to find us.

The image of Jigger lying – in wait, as it were – certainly was derived from a photo of Karl Krauss in a bathrobe, outdoors, on a chair next to a table. On the grass, a terrier in just that pose. The photo was in an article in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung by Jonathan Franzen, about the internet.

In meditation recently: a strong realization that the visualization exercise is a replication of sorts of my experience on LSD. The light, bright, spacious quality of this wave-like expanding light is more or less what I could literally see on my trip: a universe infused with energy and depth, dimensions typically not available to the normal senses. Sort of like my deaf dream-Jigger, who couldn’t hear me call (normal sense), but could sense my call to him via the waves – the physical, tactile waves – which the sound I made produced.

Synesthesia? Normally we can’t sense (or feel) sound waves, at least not at normal ranges. But a kind of meditation – or LSD-induced “ESP” – would allow us to sense it. And being able to be open to that, that’s part of creativity.

I do recall that under LSD I felt quite unafraid, even when F. collapsed, convulsed, and had to be taken to hospital, where the emergency doctor reamed me out (I told her quite openly that we had taken LSD), then F.’s mother reaming me out. They were fiercely angry. But I wasn’t scared; I was concerned, I felt enormous compassion for everyone, but I didn’t feel fear as such. Interesting.

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