The Morning in which…

/, Literature, Blesok no. 02/The Morning in which…

The Morning in which…

… The man and his long-time-no-seen friend were riding on a horse with a wind-speed among the green grass above which not very sheer rocks were rising towards the blue-violet sky (writing poetry)

The man for whom here is possibility to be the subject of this story was placed in a landscape unfamiliar to him also: on a blue rock, not very sheer; other not very sheer rocks around; greenery and a blue-violet sky around.
That could’ve been a good start but it wasn’t a precondition. Indeed, what kind of a landscape is it anyway: a blue rock, not very sheer; a similar blue rocks around, also not very sheer and greenery also around and a blue sky above. Anyway, the man was placed in that landscape (what were the reasons – it wasn’t clear to him also – he was simply there) and maybe because of that he felt a pressure on the crown of his head and what happened next happened so very fast or quickened or it was simply happening: he left out his body, his soul and he knew that his body can fly also, but he didn’t know where. It sounds unconvincing, but the man really didn’t know where, maybe because of that it hung, his soul above his body and he hesitated, if that was what his soul was feeling at the moment.
By /his/ right side there was a forest trail, with a white horse in a light trot on it. The white horse, his soul had a thought, or it knew, can be a not very good omen /after he (the man) will wake up and try to interpret the dream/ and because of that he tried to paint the horse in red, for example. The horse was alive 1F. And: man mounted or more precise: suddenly he was on the horseback and the horse wasn’t white or painted anymore but only a horse, so whatever that means.
All next that followed in a great speed, and which was already announced and mentioned above in the first paragraph, was happening in such a great speed, in such a great speed, so fast or quickened so the registrar of this event didn’t only fail at writing down everything, but he also failed at seeing the all thing in whole. In such a great speed was happening what happened next what followed. And is there a point to write down something which not only that cannot be written, but which cannot be even seen? (Later we’re going to read that even that which has been seen – it’s not clear; it could’ve been only sensed or maybe it’s more precise to be said: supposed?). No, it’s not, the registrar knew, so, soon: he stopped or isn’t it more precise if we say: he woke up? He couldn’t remember everything, but he knew there are many, many things he couldn’t remember at all. He could only pre-sense… For example, he could sense that the man on the horse wasn’t alone on it. Another man was with him, a man familiar to the first man. Very familiar to him, by the way, although he hasn’t been seen him for a long time and because of it he thought that he doesn’t exist any more. But he did exist, and if not someplace else, then in THE MORNING IN WHICH THE MAN AND HIS LONG-TIME-NO-SEEN FRIEND WERE RIDING ON A HORSE WITH WIND-SPEED AMONG THE GREEN GRASS ABOVE WHICH NOT VERY SHEER ROCKS WERE RISING TOWARDS THE BLUE-VIOLET SKY (writing poetry). But, who can recall and who is able to remember that, especially after waking up, when nothing was clear to him even before, and could he only anticipate then, or maybe it’s more precise if we say: guess?
It was clear to him, for example, that they weren’t talking at all, but he could anticipate why, and he could, very right indeed, to ask himself ain’t they are not talking because of the rapidness of the events so they couldn’t talk, or he just couldn’t hear them? And we must not forget: they were on a horse and the horse was speeding up from a light trot that it was mentioned at the first paragraph to a gallop. And what can be said under that kind of conditions anyway?
Worn out by the great acceleration that everything was happening with, and brought to a situation of anticipation and guessing, he woke up, as it has been more precisely told already, but he went on for a while just in the cause of not to fail the law of inertia… (until he went back to…)

After he /the man/ will woke up, he’ll try to interpret the dream indeed, because the dream isn’t a coincidental deed, but a process in a direct connection with the past and the presence of the dreamer and it’s able to predict or foretell future events in some way2F.
In between, his wide-spread oniric and psychological analysis, thoughts and interpretings by Freud (because of his kinky and spicy interpreting) and by Jung and after the theory of the astral I by Teophisus and by his own oniric experience, and, of course, by the prejudice-free consultations with various folk or classical dream-books, eternal calendars, etc., are endangering the literary form of a short story which is needed to be preserved at this particular occasion.
Otherwise, this long-named short story is, as we would say, a piece of colored glass, like: stories, tales, verses, oniric analysis, documents, fragments, footnotes, cartoons, etc., that are making the mosaic which is in a phase of preparation. When ready, accepted and printed, a reader who finds the symbols of this dream interesting or he himself has had one like it or the similar one, he’ll be able to compare his interpretings with this one, because – as Emerson said – experienced man interprets his own dreams in purpose to get to know himself – not in details, but in essence 3F.

Translated by: Petar Volnarovski

1. The horse was alive – This sentence, although simple, will provoke great astonishment and confusion, even for the writer himself, and he will confide it to his publisher in a moment of sincerity. Namely, he himself (the writer or the composer as he declares himself, m.n.) didn’t know even what he meant with it, so, inclined to a mystification anyway, will try to convince his publisher, and maybe himself too, and the reader – of course, that in fact, he actually didn’t even wrote the sentence (The horse was alive, m.n.). – note by the publisher.
2. Freud and Jung are agreed with this statement, and as it is well known and worldwide accepted, they went the longest way-away at discovering the enigma of the dream.
3. Subtly hidden self-advertising by the author himself in his addressing to the reader didn’t pass unnoticed with our editor’s office. The dilemma whether we place beeep, or omit it at printing, or close our eyes about it, was solved with unanimous decision to cut on his fee. – note by the publisher.

AuthorSonja Mandžuk
2018-08-21T17:24:05+00:00 April 1st, 1998|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 02|0 Comments