Dream On
We have kept our eyes shut, as in an eternal sleepless slumber.
We closed them in order to see, to look within, to listen to what has no voice, to sense what has not yet happened.
Something stirs beneath the veil of our eyelids. Images, lights, shadows, and sounds are flowing, waiting—waiting only to be awakened.
Dream is not an illusory space, but the trace of what lies beneath the conscious, in the deep chambers of the collective unconscious: an echo of origins, an intuition of possibilities, a calling from the real that has yet to happen. Dreaming is the other dimension of reconnection to collective awareness, a remixing of data gathered in wakefulness with the archetypal symbols of human perception.
In the beginning, there was silence. A silence as full as the darkness before birth, like a room awaiting a breath. From that ancient silence, something began to vibrate—not word, but sound. A sound that did not explain, but created. A sound that did not say, but revealed. And that silence unfolded into space, then into time, then into form. We step into that void to listen to what is still unnamed.
We dream, as those who cross an invisible threshold.
We dream, we dream together, at high frequency.
MUSIC AS REVELATION AND RITUAL LANGUAGE IN A FRACTURED WORLD
We live in a time that consumes us, slices us into measurable units, propels us forward without asking where.
In a reality that appears distorted and dystopian, our present is the desolate stage of crisis, acceleration, and alienation.
Condemned to extinction like bees, which, unable to find spaces for gathering, creation, and life, in their scattered dispersal abandon the hive to die.
But every dream breaks the rhythm, opens a passage: an instant of eternity breathing beyond chronology. A portal to step into on tiptoe—or by dancing.
The sounds that cross through us draw the map of dreams and shape their substance. With a nonlinear language they conjure nameless spaces born from fertile chaos. Sonic experimentation is a medium, an opening of perceptive portals: each encounter with sound space generates a passage into a new dimension hidden within the real. Every sound is an embodied dream and generates a language, an alphabet made of vibrations, errors, silences, and metamorphoses, speaking through our bodies.
The sound released is living matter: it deforms, transforms, breathes with us—it is a dream that has learned to play.
“To play a game whose rules are constantly changing.” – Ursula K. Le Guin
THE SACREDNESS OF BODIES IN OTHER SPACE-TIME
“Time is not a line, but a path that opens as you walk it.” – Karen Barad
ROBOT has no clock, time does not race—it bends, it opens, it expands. The narrative of linear time no longer serves us.
We build a new chronology: rhythmic, cyclical, collective, mutating.
The future is not written. Created in movement, it takes form in our bodies, in dance.
In dreams, time loses its banks. It dilates, coils, breaks apart. An eternal present where future and past join to awaken new times. Here, we access another time, the one memory has not yet contained. Ordinary time cannot hold here: it dissolves.
We are immersed in a sacred temporality, created together. We rediscover the original rhythm: heartbeat, breath, fertile waiting.
“Every human being is an abyss: they come towards us, they look, and then withdraw.” – Clarice Lispector
To dream is also to choose. We choose care, slowness, diversity, the freedom to be complex, non-conforming bodies.
This space is for everyone. It is safe. It is open. It is becoming.
In this place—which is dream, threshold, listening—every body is received, every body is altar, every presence resonance. There are no audiences: only sacred circles, pulsing with collective vibration. No distinctions, only presence.
COLLECTIVE TRANFIGURATION, AN INVITATION TO DREAM
“Man is invested in things, and things are invested in him.” – Maurice Merleau-Ponty
And when the sound fades, when we once again call “day” what before was dream, we will know we have carried something back with us. Perhaps an image, a new silence, a gesture no one taught us. Perhaps the simple certainty that dreaming together is possible.
The healed dream does not vanish: it spreads. It regenerates. Dreams ask for no explanations. They arrive as visions, they dissolve like mist, and yet they leave marks that remain. Do not let them fade. Dream again. Dream for those who have forgotten. Dream with your ears, with your feet, with your skin. Dream—and the world will change shape, the world will happen around you.
Written by Vivien Andrea Naforianu Székely.