Dreaming of the Deeper Level.

Some years ago I was little short of obsessed with Indian culture. These days I’ve returned to my childhood inclinations and resumed my fascination with Chinese culture.

Back then I was told: ‘You wouldn’t like India if you went there, mate. It’s dirty, disorganised and dangerous.’ Now I’m told that I wouldn’t like China because it’s depressingly grey and obsessed with material values.

So then I have to try to explain that what fascinates me isn’t the mundane reality of day to day life, but something deeper; some undercurrent that flows beneath the surface; something that even the Indians and Chinese mostly don’t sense because it’s too close and therefore too familiar to be noteworthy; something to do with the underlying psyche as expressed in the colours, the art, the music, the traditions.

And so we dream and see the realities that only dreams can show us. And when we do we get called delusional, as dreamers always have.