Friday, October 31, 2014

THAT TWIN THING : Beautiful Appearances In The World Of Dreams


All poetic art and poeticizing is nothing but interpreting true dreams.
                                   ~Hans Sachs, Die Meistersinger

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate
/abandon all hope, you who enter here
Dante, Canto III, line 9

A certain sadness, sunshine
whose aesthetic world intoxicated, dreams
night language sunshine shed.

Intoxication thus benighted
ecstatic is the head
struck by Apollon.

©2014 Delighted Anatomy stephanie pope
#ohjDailyWords #ohj #mythopoetic estatic, sunshine


The beautiful appearance of the world of dreams, in whose creation each man is a complete artist, is the condition of all plastic art, indeed, as we shall see, an important half of poetry. We enjoy the form with an immediate understanding, all shapes speak to us, nothing is indifferent and unnecessary.

For all the very intense life of these dream realities, we nevertheless have the thoroughly disagreeable sense of their illusory quality. At least that is my experience. For their frequency, even normality, I can point to many witnesses and the utterances of poets. Even the philosophical man has the presentiment that this reality in which we live and have our being is an illusion, that under it lies hidden a second quite different reality. And Schopenhauer specifically designates as the trademark of philosophical talent the ability to recognize at certain times that human beings and all things are mere phantoms or dream pictures.

Now, just as the philosopher behaves in relation to the reality of existence, so the artistically excitable man behaves in relation to the reality of dreams. He looks at them precisely and with pleasure, for from these pictures he fashions his interpretation of life; from these events he rehearses his life. This is not merely a case of agreeable and friendly images which he experiences with a complete understanding. They also include what is serious, cloudy, sad, dark, sudden scruples, teasing accidents, nervous expectations, in short, the entire “divine comedy” of life, including the Inferno — all this moves past him, not just like a shadow play, for he lives and suffers in the midst of these scenes, yet not without that fleeting sensation of illusion. And perhaps several people remember, like me, amid the dangers and terrors of a dream, successfully cheering themselves up by shouting: “It is a dream! I want to dream it some more!” I have also heard accounts of some people who had the ability to set out the causal connection of one and the same dream over three or more consecutive nights. These facts are clear evidence showing that our innermost beings, the secret underground in all of us, experiences its dreams with deep enjoyment, as a delightful necessity.

~ Frederick Nietzsche, The Birth Of Tragedy (1871), Ian Johnston translator
excerpt taken from section 1-14