I perceive my body and I imagine myself; the combination is fantastic. I do not perceive your face, I imagine it. Where is your face? Is the face that I imagine, your face or my face? And then again, where am I as I imagine your face? It is difficult to locate an image. Some would say that a face is a surface of some structure, the facade of the building, but a human face is more elusive than that. It exists, if anywhere, in the empty space between two bodies, or between a body and a reflection.

The face that I call my own is the one I see looking back at me when I look into a mirror, as I do just before lying down into a bed of dreams, and again after rising from that bed. I imagine my own face. My selfless body perceives a faceless body. The perception is a four-dimensional operation, but the imagination is more resistant to measurement.

The face that I imagine looking back at me from that reflection of my body that I perceive in the mirror, is not the same face that you might imagine were you to see my body. If you were standing next to me, looking into the mirror, we would both perceive two bodies, but we would imagine four faces: your face as you imagine it, your face as I imagine it, my face as I imagine it, and my face as you imagine it. Faces are not two-dimensional, they are undimensional. It is Easter Sunday on Harris Creek.

In his investigation of the dreams of humans, Freud finds the dream-work to be a kind of mockery of the rules which govern the genital relations of the awakened corporate body. You may indeed, in a dream, find yourself in bed with your mother. The dream permits desired genital relationships that are forbidden by the awakened body. But these dream relationships are symbolic, not real. In a dream any convex object can substitute for the penis and any concave object can substitute for the vagina; metaphor is left to run wild. It is as if the body itself desires to break the rules that constitute it, but only periodically, when asleep.

The process called "art" draws upon the dream. The awakened body can imagine a world where, like the dream world, the exclusionary rules of reality are broken. But again, the "merely imagined world" is not real. Human fantasy is not real. The human experience is simultaneously real and unreal. I was born with this body and when this body disorganizes, so will I, but I am not it. Human reality is always infected by unreality; the conceptual-work is always infected by the dream-work.

It is snowing on this Saturn's Morning on Harris Creek. It is the day before Easter Sunday and "Old Man Winter" is getting in one last shot.

I was awakened from the dream early this morning by, great rolls of thunder, and lightning which illuminated the world outside my bedroom window in flashes; still photographs. Heraclitus said it first, and then Freud repeated it: The dream eats the waking conceptualizing body, even as that same body eats the dream. The "dream-work" translates conceptual language into symbolic language; "dream interpretation" reverses the translation. Freud plays the part of the doctor, the one who assumes the concept is prior to the image, but his writing is much more ambiguous, not unlike Heraclitus.

Freud uncovered the connection between the sensual body and symblolic language. The language of the dream is a symbolic representation of the genital body, the body of human erotic desire. When the genital body sleeps, when it dampens down its conceptualizing/perceptualizing, the erotic desire that is that same body, produces images. That same body, when it awakens from the dream world finds itself in a world of thoughts and things. The common thread between the concept and the symbol is genitalized erotic desire. The genital organization of erotic desire, divides the whole body of erotic desire into opposing parts; pleasure suddenly becomes pleasure/pain. The rain is pouring down on Harris Creek as I tap out these words this morning.

If there is to be a story or a cosmos, the whole must be divided into parts; the body must be divided into genders and generations. This originating division is remembered as a crime; the children will not see the light of day unless the primal parent is cut in twain. Death is punishment for the crime of being born. If there is no desire to give birth and thus a desire to be born, there is neither crime nor punishment.

It is the Father's part to be killed. He must, for there to be a beginning, be missing from the play. He is killed by the sons, in conspiracy with the Mother. If these shameful acts were not carried out the play would not begin, there would be no difference between inside and outside, or, before and after. "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime." History, as the fantasy of Western Civilization, is this story of a murder, and/or a castration of the Father, and the generations of guilt that follow, until the end of the story. Freud uncovers the story in the fantasies of his patients.

The "time-space continuum," as human experience, is a story. We are, all of us, characters in a drama. But there is, Oh Monks, an experience that is other than the story. Dying is the way into this otherness.

It is Sunday morning on Harris Creek, though He is hidden behind a curtain of clouds on this particular morning. There is always something hidden, something that resists discovery; the project of discovery is interminable. The project is to incorporate the hidden, within the horizon of the perceptible, to incorporate the images of the dream, within the story. But the story is being unwound even as it being woven; the organism is being disorganized as it organizes.

Political action does not change the political world, it perpetuates it. The conflict is perpetuated, not resolved, for it is not in the interests of the parties involved, that their dispute come to an end. "Love thine enemy," you can't be without him. There is no story if there is no crime and punishment. Think about it, have you ever read one?

As participants in the great human drama, it is not ours to question the futility of our pursuit, to question the desirability of the project, but rather by our full participation, to perpetuate it. We are programed to perpetuate the species.