To reach inside the dream and find the core, the permanent seed of that reality which feeds the dream every second of every day…
In love there is a moment like that.
In constructing a new universe, there is, too.
To test the theories of what works in the dream universe required love in the parallel real one.
Theirs was a love outside time, outside space, crossing the imaginary borders of others’ dream worlds, building and building upon the foundation laid years before, back on Earth.
= = = = =
Naomi Wolf wrote of her father:
“[My father’s] belief goes something like this: Why stick to one identify? Why limit your limitless self every day to the costume of a suburban housewife, if once in a while you can be Salome? Why dress in the costume of a stockbroker — or a retired college teacher — all the time if you can sometimes be a Zouave horseman?
“I believe my father’s insistence on creative freedom may be the secret to happiness.
“He is a teacher, and has taught in every kind of setting, for sixty years. He changes people’s lives because he believes that everyone is here on earth as an artist; to tell his particular story or sing her irreplaceable song; to leave behind a unique creative signature. He believes that your passion for this, your feelings about this, must take priority over every other reasoned demand: status, benefits, sensible practices.
“What matters to my father is not whether the creative work is valued in the marketplace; what matters to him is whether or not it is yours.
“He wants to know you have put your emotion into it, driven your artist’s discipline into it, seen it through to completion and signed your name to it, if only in your own mind. If you do, he believes, your work comes alive and gives life to those around you. And it gives life, he is sure, to you.”
[Spoken words fly away but writing remains]