The dream was a contemplation.
I imagined a ball in a dream world. Then I imagined a ball in the waking word.
A little bit Kosuth.
Of course both balls were imagined, but their textures and most importantly, the way they each made me feel, was quite different.
I forget the gamut of reactions to these two balls, for a moment after I woke I even forgot what the object itself had been. I wondered if it was a cloth instead or a piece of wire.
But the reaction I had was one of struggling between perceptions, the real ball sometimes replacing the dream ball and so on. Quite out of my control. Then at points I would wake for real and see that my night clothes had dislodged and my breast was on display ... To nobody of course, but still, I felt shame at the exposure to nobody and readjusted my top so my nipple was covered and I could feel decent, tidy and not appalling. Thus reassured, I plunged back into the dream and contemplated these two objects again.
One apparently ephemeral, and curiously ghostly. Lightly luring me in.
One permanent, hard, dominant and somewhat intimidating.
