Dream:
I’m standing in the enormous cave
described
adroitly by Keats in Hyperion,
with
the Titans, as they enact their version
of
the Stygian Council. Saturn’s voice booms
forth
in dismay. It gradually creeps into my
mind,
as I watch his white, oozy beard tremble,
that
hidden in the dark recesses of the cave,
opening
out behind me— dark, eerie, intimidatingly
empty—
that the Titans would have a better time
of
it dealing with that primordial starkness, its
own
ooze, then to try to fight their losing battle
against
newer, more formidable Gods. Go into
the
cave, come out a winner, peeps. Ride the
darkness
into more darkness. Oceanus seems
to
agree with me— he’s reasonable. As he displays
the
wares of an elevated mind, I notice that
the
Titans are scowling, rolling their eyes, being
infants.
Oceanus sounds like an adult. And gets
greeted
by no approbation whatsoever. The
cave
behind me, unheard by the Titans, belches
in
response. The understanding in the air of
who
Oceanus is, is the resonance of the entire
cosmos,
which also makes, audible to me,
a
kind of belching noise. Clymene I refuse
to
even stick around for. I run into the cave
behind
me: it’s utterly dark. I send Oceanus
a
silent wavelength that I’ll see him here later.
A
voice from the cave signals me to understand
something:
that nothing in here I will see
exists
as fully as I do. Don’t expect fullness.
But
if I can assimilate the craziness of what
turns
up, I’ll be rewarded to have the Titans
serve
as manservants to me for a ten-year
fling.
Thea will even be my geisha girl.
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