There are times when something germinates in the depths: it trembles, clinging to the core, and continues to spread, nourished by thoughts repressed from the surface. Gradually it assumes an increasingly humanoid shape and circles at the edge of sight, as if it were waiting. In the end it swells into a full-sized form, and then it is no longer clear whether it is a part of “me,” or whether it is “I” who am the attached fragment dreaming of autonomy.
ONEIRIC ANAMNESIS 