I place my fingers upon these keys typing 2000 dreams per minute and naked of spirit dance forth my cosmic vortex upon this crucifix called language.

Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.

Lacan as we have seen in our discussion of Freud regards the unconscious as structured like a language. This is not only because it works by metaphor and metonymy it is also because like language itself for the post-structuralists it is composed less of signs stable meanings than of signifiers. If you dream of a horse it is not immediately obvious what this signifies it may have many contradictory meanings may be just one of a whole chain of signifiers with equally multiple meanings. The image of the horse that is to say is not a sign in Saussures sense - it does not have one determined signified tied neatly to its tail - but is a signifier which may be attached to many different signifieds and which may itself bear the traces of the other signifiers which surround it. I was not aware when I wrote the above sentence of the word-play involved in horse and tail one signifier interacted with another against my conscious intention. The unconscious is just a continual movement and activity of signifiers whose signifieds are often inaccessible to us because they are repressed. This is why Lacan speaks of the unconscious as a sliding of the signified beneath the signifier as a constant fading and evaporation of meaning a bizarre modernist text which is almost unreadable and which will certainly never yield up its final secrets to interpretation.

Like night dreams stores often use symbolic language therefore bypassing the ego and persona and traveling straight to the spirit and soul who listen for the ancient and universal instructions embedded there. Because of this process stories can teach correct errors lighten the heart and the darkness provide psychic shelter assist transformation and heal wounds.

I had a dream about you last night... we tried to joke but neither could make any sense. We realized that puns are present in every language though not shared by any of them.

To speak a language that was as intimate and free as certain dreams saying darkly thrillingly My cock inside of you. Your come in my mouth ... He focused on the boys slim tight hips with the tip of his tongue he tasted an assholes bitter forbidden mystery.

A strange thing words. Once theyre said its hard to imagine theyre untrue.

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.