This dream could mean that your technological devices, say, your computer/cellphone are consuming your essence - you are becoming subsumed in the technology, hence why your voice turned technological ( with negative/satanic undertones ). Instead of people owning their devices, their devices end up owning them.
I have a lot of very fucked up dreams myself…
“This dream could mean that your technological devices, say, your computer/cellphone are consuming your essence - you are becoming subsumed in the technology, hence why your voice turned technological ( with negative/satanic undertones ). Instead of people owning their devices, their devices end up owning them.”
That’s actually a really good point Erik -one I hadn’t thought of. I generally consider these kinds of complex Freudian interpretations as overestimating the cognitive (the connective and metaphorical(its ability to create meaning (prowess of the subconscious. But yours actually works in that it takes into account the pre-lingual intuitions and feelings we tend to have. Thanks for today’s rhizome.
Rhizome 12/16/14:
Reference: viewtopic.php?f=25&t=185086&p=2514255#p2514255:
“I had a nightmare where I was in a room and had this weird technologically altered voice: much like the devil. I was listening to this technologically altered voice then saw the source of it walk around a corner then towards me…”
“This dream could mean that your technological devices, say, your computer/cellphone are consuming your essence - you are becoming subsumed in the technology, hence why your voice turned technological (with negative/satanic undertones). Instead of people owning their devices, their devices end up owning them.”
“That’s actually a really good point Erik -one I hadn’t thought of. I generally consider these kinds of complex Freudian interpretations as overestimating the cognitive (the connective and metaphorical (the ability to create meaning (prowess of the subconscious. But yours actually works in that it takes into account the pre-lingual intuitions and feelings we tend to have. Thanks for today’s rhizome.”
First of all, it’s refreshing to meet a self proclaimed right-wing libertarian like Erik who doesn’t seem to be working within a kind of tunnelvision. I praise him for his integrity.
That said, I think his point goes to something I recognized in myself via Jung. Contrary to popular notions about the introvert/extrovert dichotomy, it is not about being shy or social in nature, but rather a phenomenological matter of one’s relationship with the world of objects. For the introvert, everything starts in the self and ends in the self. They’re like the packrats of reality in that they tend to go into the world and collect objects (or impressions of them (which they can carry back to their own little holes (their mental labs (and work more comfortably with them. The extrovert, by comparison, works more comfortably in the world of objects.
But in order to truly understand how astute and observant Erik’s interpretation was, we should look at the maladies Jung attributed to each based on their relationship with the subconscious: that which he describes as a counterbalance to our conscious activities.
I would start with the malady that tends to afflict the extreme extrovert that results from the sub consciousness seeking to overwhelm the individual’s fixation on the world of objects. This can result in hysteria which we can see expressed in more fanatical expressions of right-wing views: such as we often see with the Tea Party. That said, I would also note here the lack of that in Erik’s approach given his calm composure throughout our discourse.
But more important to our point here is the malady that tends to haunt me as a devoted introvert. The problem for the introvert is that while they consciously retreat from the world of objects, they are, at a subconscious level, actually drawn to objects. This creates a kind of push-pull relationship with the world of objects that underlies my critical stance with Capitalism.
To give you a for-instance: I love what I’m doing on these boards. It is part of the daily meditation that keeps me centered. And I love approaching an empty space and being able to fill it with words and thoughts. Yet, every time, I wake up from it with this nagging voice that tells me I can’t do it anymore. I actually feel shame. This, in turn, has propped my reservations about the boards when it comes to the instant gratification of instant publication: the addiction involved. Hence, as Erik rightly points to, my reservations about technology and the Capitalism which rides on it.
Anyway, I hope with the next rhizome to get to what Erik has been asking for: the definition of the rhizome and what I’m doing with it –not just for him, but for everyone who has tolerated them on the boards.
Comme ca 
Exactly that… and with no support from anyone around me. They seemed like obstacles to my goals.
I tend to have a lot of dreams that involve the frustration of people pissing me off 
there are people everywhere in my dreams, and despite numerous interactions I am always left alone…
“I tend to have a lot of dreams that involve the frustration of people pissing me off there are people everywhere in my dreams, and despite numerous interactions I am always left alone…”
I certainly hope I don’t appear in your dreams.
That said, in reference to your latter point, I would point to what I refer to as Kafka chicks. Much as I have experienced in dreams, they always seem to throw themselves easily into my arms (much as they did K’s, then just as easily walk away which leaves me to search for them -usually in an amusement park for some reason.
I tend to experience a similar frustration in the amusement park dreams in which I am always trying to get on a ride but can’t seem to get to one.
In My Worst Possible Orwellian Nightmare:
You know? In my worst possible Orwellian nightmare, I imagine myself in a world where everywhere I go, I find myself confronted with the steady drone and shifting light of Fox News working in the background. No one really watches. They just attend to their mundane matters and idle chat until something catches their attention and, with a sudden glance and grunt of affirmation, they slip back into a state of pacification. In such a world, I can only imagine myself having to refuse every free lunch. Not today, I tell them with an air of graciousness. I’m always polite. But my mind is always reeling, always looking for some way out. It’s always pleading:
Look man! I’m not gonna watch Fox News with you.
Rhizome 5/27/16 in which I carry on thoughts about dreams without tying it down to Bogue’s book on Deleuze:
In tying my points down to Bogue and Deleuze, I neglected an answer I had developed as concerned Alexis’s question of why it is we dream, one that may be more fundamental than my point concerning its facilitating our evolution as a species.
Another concept we need to look at is intentionality: the fact (and may the wrath of Professor Strunk rest in its grave (that consciousness is always consciousness of something. In other words, in order for consciousness to exist, it has to, at bottom, perceive that it exists. It’s similar to the point that Descartes was getting at with his “cogito ergo sum.” And by some models of sleep patterns, there is a deep wave delta phase in which we experience nothing: the absence of consciousness. And at the risk of a anthropomorphic fallacy (even though it seems perfectly appropriate in this situation, isn’t there the possibility that consciousness, given the role of intentionality, might resist this state of nothingness: of not perceiving that it exists? I think of a line out of the movie Moonlighting by one of the elderly characters:
“I hate sleep! It’s too much like death.”
This would explain why, when we’re moving from a conscious to a sleep state, we have those twilight dreams (products of the beta state: we’re just laying there thinking until our thoughts become visual and something we fear comes at us and causes us to jolt awake. That would be consciousness resisting its own non-existence –that is until fatigue overcomes it. So it makes sense that the mind would create the dreams it does in order to be conscious of something.
We can take this phenomenological route to understand other aspects of dreams as well. For instance, we have all likely had the dream in which we’re running from something and finding ourselves unable to do so. As phenomenology describes: for every external event (noema), there is a corresponding internal event (noesis). Now think about when you’re running in the real world. What you’re working from and with is inertia and the mass of your legs. You basically ride on a kind of momentum. But that is a noematic phenomenon. Dream states, on the other hand, are pure noetic states. You have nothing more to work with than the veil of perceptions. Therefore, in that noetic state you completely lack the advantage of mass, inertia, and momentum.
This may also be why our dream landscapes always look so faded: in not confronting the noematic directly, we are always looking at the impressions (the recordings to use a Deleuzian term (left by it.
Lastly, as much I hate/and kind of love (maybe “like” would be a better word (being able to do so, I have to risk stealing the magic again. Lucid dreams are not what we think they are. I use to have them all the time. But what I eventually realized was that every time I did, I ended up doing the same thing: lift my legs under some force and start flying around. In other words, lucid dreams are not your conscious self participating in the dream. They are rather, your dream self (the same as in any dream (simply realizing they are in a dream as a kind of plot twist. At the same time, after I realized this, I did have another lucid dream in which I was in a house with my dead father. When I realized he was dead, I chose something different than flying. I realized I was free to grope every woman in the house and took full advantage. This, of course, is not something my real self would choose to do. And my father was a bit of a perv which suggests a bit of an associative connection.
…and how is d63?
Always pushing further than I should probably go…
You?
And, BTW, always a pleasure looking at you…
hearing from you, even.
Nothing wrong with pushing further… as long as no-one is getting hurt in the process
I’m fine… apart from having a large dose of chronic fatigue.
Do my words an image of me make? or do you really have an image of me? 
Still seeing Thandie Newton, Maj.
In the podcast, the question was posed by Ken Taylor to the guest Deirdre Barrett as to what the evolutionary value of dreaming was. And while I would not, given her expertise in the field, dismiss her explanations, I would, humbly, offer a couple of my own.
The first, which is less evolutionary and more existential, has to do with the concept of intentionality as it was embraced by Husserl and Phenomenology: the notion that consciousness is always consciousness of something. And if we follow the reasoning through, we realize that in order for something to be conscious, it has to, at bottom, recognize that it is conscious. But as Barrett points out, there are points, at our deepest level of sleep, at which consciousness just dissipates: its very nothingness and non-being. And it would make perfect sense for consciousness to resist this while the body requires it. Therefore, consciousness has to ease into it (dip its toe into the water), via dreams, by immersing itself step by step. This is why, for instance, while we fall asleep, we tend to experience our thoughts suddenly projecting into the visual and often find ourselves jolting into full consciousness because of something jumping out at us. That jumping out basically represents the possibility of consciousness’ non-being. This, for me, always brings to mind a quote by an old man in the movie Moonlighting:
“I hate sleep! It’s too much like death.”
The second, which is more evolutionary in nature, has to do with brain plasticity. Here we have to look at dreaming as a kind of mental bricolage in which the mind and brain (via consciousness (does a kind of random psychic inventory in which it goes through its contents (its memories, its emotions, its knowledge, etc. (and randomly fuses them together until it finds patterns that resonate with it that it then stores so that it can play those patterns off of other random mental units. In this aspect, it makes perfect sense, as Barrett points to, that many of our greatest minds would turn to dreams for inspiration. But I would argue that it is a little more fundamental and democratic than that in that dreams are the process by which the brain (via brain plasticity (improves the underlying structures of how we think so the mind can move to the next level. This would explain, for instance, why less creative people tend to claim to not dream.
I look more like Zoe Saldana, but I prefer to relate to Thandie Newton… because she is also a Brit, but I don’t look much like her at all.
Still thinking about that screenplay. And I really do need to take some time out and come back here: like a vacation where I visit old friends or something.
That’s what we’re here for d63 
Have you ever thought of submitting your screenplays to a film festival? I’m going to a networking event at one of the biggest…
I would first have to write it. My time for this is so limited.
Many in that situation start with a short story and then turn it into a feature film later on, when time and funding allow for it. This too is my plan for the current short story I am starting to write.
As Coleridge says, sweetheart:
It’s alright to build castles in the sky. The trick is to build foundations under them.
But in order to build those foundations, we first have create castles in the sky in order to drive us.
It’s just how it works. At least, that is the way it has worked for me. At the same time, it has always left me feeling I am behind myself.