Down with Shadowgrey (pt1)

main-italy-defendilo

“that was merely a piece of furtive knowledge which he happened to possess because his memory was not satisfactorily under control…Whatever was true now was true from everlasting to everlasting. It was quite simple. All that was needed was an unending series of victories over your own memory. ‘Reality control’, they called it: in Newspeak, ‘doublethink’.” George Orwell

I find peace here, in dreams layered upon dreams.  My eyes search for stimulus but what I have been carrying inside is much more than I’ll ever need.  In this particular dream I strode across mountains, lit by the power of the sun and a light spring breeze.  The well, source of so much pain and darkness,  was now a beacon of hope for all to be assimilated into one great whole.  The pieces of my history scattered about the ground as I reach to touch them a new dream is formed, a new piece of me quietly disappears.   Screams are echoing from below and what was left of me fades from the ground in a light breeze.  I heard my mothers nearly silent emotional screams from the bottom of my soul but they were not being carried away into the air.  My memories of her were shattered as I could no longer behave as if I grasped the difference between dreams and reality.  I no longer had anything to compare reality to.  There were feelings that were still pushing me to explore this world which has overcome my sight.  The people running to and fro in my mind became more unreal as I saw my mother’s eyes looking up at me from the bottom of the well.  I watched in the reflection of the water behind her all I thought I was, being carried away with each slight movement of her broken leg and I wondered if maybe this was how she wanted to die.  I reach for one door, far away in the darkness another door closes.  I block out the noise which forces me to ignore the voice speaking from my heart.  I know I don’t have to listen to anything, but something enters.  I walk through another door and this time my mother reaches up for me, but the screen that is my sight becomes filled with static.  I penetrate the confusion  with swerving perception, knowing this is where I am now.  My mother touches my skin and dream or not I feel alive.  Cage or not I know I still can experience something.  This is not a good thing for those studying me.  In the water below my mother I see the reflection of what I have become, the shadowgrey that I have been fighting for so long is the only thing I can now see myself as.  Without a thought I envelope everything that is surrounding me and it becomes everything I did not want it to become.  I have lost control of what is inside of me.  I have lost the understanding to destroy it.  My mother had a firm grip on both of my arms as I lifted her from that well.  The water at the bottom of the well still rippling and the shadowgrey of my face became a little lighter.  My mother spread like ashes in the wind floating to the setting sun in a trail, and without any attempt at understanding or explaining, I touched the inside of what I was, only for a second, one second of real life

“His mind slid away into the labyrinthine world of doublethink. To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which cancelled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it, to believe that democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian of democrcy, to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again: and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself. That was the ultimate subtlety: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the word ‘doublethink’ involved the use of doublethink.” George Orwell

+poster is fascist Italian street art “defend him”

 

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