IMMORTAL CRABS AND BLUE ALMONDS:
A GRAMMAR OF DREAMS

ELLA DAWN MCGEOUGH

TO BEGIN, I WILL LEAD YOU THROUGH AN IMAGINATIVE EXPERIMENT BORROWED FROM THE REALM OF POETRY.

ACROSS TIME AND CULTURAL TRADITION, MANY POETS HAVE CHOSEN TO BEGIN WITH THE IMAGE OF A FLOWER—THE ROSE, A DAISY, SOME DELPHINIUM.

A FLOWER IS RELATIVELY EASY TO IMAGINE.

THEIR MIX OF CONCAVE AND CONVEX SHAPES MIRROR OUR OWN EYES AND, FOR THE MOST PART, THEY ARE SMALL ENOUGH TO FIT INTO THE SPACE OF OUR FOREHEAD—OUR FAVOURED IMAGINAL REALM.

WE DON’T HAVE TO IMAGINE THEM BIGGER OR SMALLER THAN THEY REALLY ARE.

OK, SO...
IF YOU WERE TO CLOSE YOUR EYES AND TRY TO IMAGINE A FLOWER.

NOTICE THE SHAPE OF ITS PETALS, ITS COLOUR, THE DEPTH OF ITS INTERIOR.

AS YOU OPEN YOUR EYES, HOLD THIS IMAGE IN YOUR MIND. 

FROM SEPTEMBER 2023 TO APRIL 2024, I SPENT MONDAY MORNINGS TO THURSDAY AFTERNOONS LIVING TWO-AND-A-HALF HOURS FROM HOME, IN AN ATTIC ABOVE A CONVENIENCE STORE, SUBLET FROM A RETIRED NURSE-TURNED-ART-THERAPIST.

IT WAS A COMPLICATED TIME.

SIX WEEKS IN, I DEFENDED MY DOCTORAL DISSERTATION AND LEARNED OUR IN-VITRO FERTILIZATION WAS UNSUCCESSFUL ON THE SAME DAY.

A FEW MONTHS LATER, WITH A 102-DEGREE COVID FEVER, I FLOATED IN AND OUT OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND CLICKED SEND ON YET ANOTHER JOB APPLICATION.

I FOUND THE NURSE’S VOICE IRRITATING, MADE WORSE BECAUSE IT WAS OBVIOUSLY SO WELL-MEANING.

HER LILTING CADENCE AND EXTENDED VOWEL SOUNDS SOON CAME TO SIGNIFY BOTH MY MOTHER’S ABSENCE AND THE GAGGLE OF ACOLYTE/ FRIENDS WHO HAD ONCE SURROUNDED HER. EACH MORE METAPHYSICAL THAN THE NEXT.

TO AVOID CONVERSATION, I ATE ALONE IN MY ROOM, CONSUMING A DIET OF RICE NOODLES, TINNED FISH, AND BAGS OF ORGANIC APPLES.

THIS SCENARIO HAD BEEN AGREED UPON IN RETURN FOR MY FIRST FULL TIME UNIVERSITY POSITION.

INTENDED AS TEMPORARY, ONLY A SABBATICAL LEAVE FILL-IN.

THE JOB CAME WITH NO PROMISE OF CONTRACT RENEWAL, A SITUATION UNDERSCORED BY THE BUILDING’S VISIBLE COLLAPSE.

SIGNS OF COMING RUINATION SURROUNDED US—PAINT PEELING FROM WALLS REVEALED BLACK MILDEW, MISSING CEILING TILES SHOWED A MESS OF WIRES, SCATTERED REMNANTS OF PROJECTS LONG AGO FORGOTTEN FILLED STOREROOMS AMIDST EXPENSIVE MATERIALS FOR ASSIGNMENTS NO LONGER TAUGHT, ALL ALONGSIDE THE DESPERATE ANGST OF STUDENTS SOLD A ROTTEN LEGACY.

AN ARRAY OF ANCIENT PLASTER MOLDS TUCKED THEMSELVES INTO A CORNER: A DOZEN RUBBER DUCKIES, SHEAVES OF CORN, MANY-SEVERAL FINGERS, CUT-UP APPLES, HALF AN ORANGE, AND A SINGULAR FACE.

I PLAYED AT RE-ANIMATION.

KILLING TIME BY MAKING CANDLES FOR FRIENDS.

WITH THE FACE-MOLD I HESITATED, THAT IS UNTIL A KEEN STUDENT SHOWED ENOUGH CURIOSITY FOR ME TO CONSIDER IT A HELPFUL TEACHING AID.

AFTER THE WAX COOLED, WE TURNED THE CAST OVER AND SOMETHING LIKE ASTONISHMENT PASSED BETWEEN US.

THIS UNKNOWN FACE, UTTERLY REPRESENTATIVE, WITH A FOREHEAD SO SMOOTH AND CHEEKBONES SO HIGH, HELD GENTLY IN MY HANDS, WAS CLEARLY SOMEONE.

THE STUDENT FOUND HER MOTHER, YOUNG AND UNLINED. I FOUND MY DEAR FRIEND H.

H IS THE KIND OF FRIEND WHO IS OFTEN ON MY MIND, MEANING A FRIEND OF IMAGINATIONAL ADDRESS, WHOSE MEMORY I SPEAK TO WHILE MAKING AND THINKING.

WE HAVE SHARED A DECADE-LONG CONVERSATION SHOT THROUGH WITH THE INTIMACIES OF LIFE—DISLOCATION, GRIEF, THE VICISSITUDES OF CARE GIVING, A LOVE FOR FEMINIST SCIENCE FICTION, AND THE EXTERIOR PRESSURES OF ARTISTIC PRACTICE (CREATIVE DIRECTION, FUNDING, STORAGE, THE MASS, ITS WEIGHT).

IN THE YEARS HENCE, I HAVE MOVED EVEN FARTHER AWAY.

FAR AWAY FROM H AND SO MANY OTHER LOVED ONES.

I OFTEN FEEL A MIX OF LONGING, REGRET, AND FREQUENT GUILT. CONSTANTLY QUESTIONING WHETHER THE RIGHT DECISION WAS MADE.

H REPEATEDLY REASSURES ME.

NEVERTHELESS, I WISH WE WERE AS CLOSE AS WE ONCE WERE.

IF ONLY I WOULD HAVE DROPPED BY MORE OFTEN.

METHODS OF SPEECH THAT ACCOUNT FOR HYPOTHETICAL OR UNCERTAIN SITUATIONS SUCH AS WISHES, DREAMS, SUGGESTIONS, DEMANDS, DESIRES, POSSIBILITIES, OPINIONS, DOUBTS, AND EMOTIONS DEPEND GRAMMATICALLY ON THE SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD.

THE SENTENCES: I WISH WE WERE AS CLOSE AS WE ONCE WERE, AND IF ONLY I WOULD HAVE DROPPED BY MORE OFTEN, BOTH EXPRESS THIS SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD.

IN ENGLISH, AS IS THE CASE FOR MANY LANGUAGES, THE SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD IS NOT MARKED BY A DISTINCT SET OF VERB ENDINGS, BUT RATHER BY CHANGES IN VERB FORM. TO SAY, “WE SUGGEST THAT SHE LEAVE,” THE BASE FORM OF THE VERB “LEAVE” IS USED INSTEAD OF THE THIRD PERSON SINGULAR PRESENT TENSE FORM, “LEAVES.”

(AS A REMINDER, GENERALLY, WE SAY, “SHE LEAVES” AND “THEY LEAVE.”)

CHANGES IN VERB FORM SUCH AS THESE ARE NOT INTENTIONALLY TIED TO A PARTICULAR TENSE, BUT RATHER SIGNAL THE SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD. THUS SEEMING TO TRANSCEND THE CONSTRAINTS OF TENSE ALTOGETHER.

WITHIN THE SUBJUNCTIVE, SINGULAR GENDERED SUBJECTS FLOAT INTO A POSITION OF EITHER PLURALITY OR GENDER NEUTRALITY.

OFTENTIMES, THE SUBJUNCTIVE EXPRESSES AN IRREALIS MOOD, A SUBSECTION OF GRAMMAR USED TO SPECIFY VARIOUS STATES OF UNREALITY OR IRREALITY.

THE PRAIRIE CITY I MOVED TO IS 1,571 KM FROM MY FAMILY TO THE WEST AND 3,047 KM FROM MY FRIENDS TO THE EAST.

BOTH MY PARENTS WERE RAISED IN THIS TERRITORY, AND BOTH LEFT IN EARLY ADULTHOOD, HOPING TO FIND LIVES THEY COULD LIVE, AWAY FROM THE DIFFICULT REALITIES OF FARMING, AWAY FROM SMALL TOWN GOSSIP AND PREJUDICE, TOWARDS OPPORTUNITY, TOWARDS FREEDOM, TOWARDS THE OCEAN.

I WONDER WHAT THEY WOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF MY NEW LIFE, THE MOVE TO HERE, MEANING THERE, TO THIS LAND OF LIVING SKIES, TO A PLACE THEY FOUGHT SO DISTINCTLY TO ESCAPE.

TO A PLACE THEY WISHED NEVER TO RETURN.

H LIKES TO SAY, “ALL OUR WORK IS ABOUT OUR MOTHERS.”

BUT LAST NIGHT, IN A HOUSE WHOSE MANY DOORS OPENED ONTO ALL MY LONGED-FOR PLACES, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN NEW YORK CITY AND ANTIGUA GUATEMALA, MY FATHER GAVE ME TWO HOLLOWED-OUT TUSKS OF A BLACK HORNED GOAT.

THOSE WHO DO CALL THIS PLACE HOME DESCRIBE IT AS EXISTING “IN THE MIDDLE OF EVERYWHERE.”

I WAKE UP DREAMING I WAS ELSEWHERE.

MEANING, I FREQUENTLY WAKE UP AND HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I AM.

WHOSE WINDOW IS THIS?

WHOSE WALLS?

WHAT STRANGE LIGHT?

UNDERSTOOD LESS LITERALLY, THE SENTIMENT, I WAKE UP DREAMING I WAS ELSEWHERE, CONTAINS AN APPARENT TEMPORAL CONJUNCTION, COMPLICATING THE PRESENT TENSE OF: I WAKE UP DREAMING WITH THE PAST TENSE OF: I WAS ELSEWHERE, WHICH, WHEN COMBINED, EITHER DESCRIBES A HOPEFUL FUTURE SCENARIO OR A YEARNING TO RETURN TO SOME PRIOR LIFE.

WE OFTEN BIFURCATE LANGUAGE OF IMAGINATION INTO REMEMBERING AND FORECASTING.

SEEMINGLY SEPARATE SPHERES DEFINED BY A DISTINCT RELATIONSHIP TO TIME, PAST AND FUTURE.

WE REMEMBER (IN THE PAST TENSE) WHEN, WE WERE TOGETHER—A TIME WONDERFULLY FULL OF COMPANIONSHIP, STIMULATION, AND CARE.

OR, WE PLAN (IN THE FUTURE TENSE) WHEN, WE WILL BE TOGETHER—A TIME WHEN THE BONDS OF FRIENDSHIP WILL ONCE AGAIN BE EFFORTLESS.

WHAT HAPPENS, THOUGH, WHEN WE EXPRESS THE RELATIVELY SIMPLE DESIRE, WE WISH WE WERE TOGETHER?

HERE, THE PRESENTNESS OF THE SUBJECT-VERB, WE WISH COLLIDES WITH THE PAST TENSE OF THE SENTENCE’S SUBORDINATE CLAUSE, WE WERE TOGETHER TO SUGGEST A TIME ALTOGETHER SEPARATE FROM EITHER.

READING OVER THESE EXPLANATIONS, MY PARTNER TELLS ME I AM AT RISK OF REPEATING MYSELF.

CONCERNED I WILL LOSE MY READERS’ THIN PATIENCE AND ATTENTION.

HOWEVER, I HAVE ALWAYS FOUND THE DEFINITIONS OF GRAMMAR CONFUSING AND SO ALL THIS REPETITION IS MORE FOR MY BENEFIT THAN YOURS.

I AM TRYING TO PIN THESE RULES DOWN BECAUSE ALL THE EXPLANATIONS I CONSULT DESCRIBE HOW THE SUBJUNCTIVE OR IRREALIS MOOD FUNCTIONS INDEPENDENT OF TIME.

THIS ASSERTION ALSO SOUNDS LIKE HOPEFUL THINKING.

OUR VERBS CANNOT ESCAPE A TEMPORAL ARRANGEMENT, EVEN WHEN THEY ABANDON THEIR GENERAL USAGE.

IN HIS 1940 BOOK, THE IMAGINARY, JEAN PAUL SARTRE DISCUSSES THE TEMPORAL DIMENSION OF IRREALIS BY CONJURING THE FACE OF HIS DEAR FRIEND PIERRE.

OF HIS SMILE, HE TELLS HOW, WHEN IMAGINED, IT “GATHERS IN AN INVARIABLE SYNTHESIS THE DIVERSE SMILES THAT ENDURED AND DISAPPEARED.”

AS SUCH, WHEN A SMILE (OR A FLOWER, OR ELEPHANT, OR ICE-CREAM CONE) IS IMAGINED, IT IS CONSTITUTED OF SEVERAL SCENES THAT FORM A COHERENT WHOLE.

WE DO NOT IMAGINE THE FRIEND’S SMILE FROM ONE SINGULAR MOMENT IN TIME, BUT THE SMILE AS ITSELF—A SMILE MADE UP OF A DOZEN DOZEN SMILES.

WHEN WE ENTER IRREALITY THROUGH THE SUBJUNCTIVE, OUR MUDDLING OF TENSES DOES NOT SUGGEST NON-TIME, BUT AN ENTANGLEMENT OF TEMPORAL STATES.

A KIND OF MOBIUS STRIP THAT APPEARS AS A GORDIAN KNOT.

UNLIKE BARTHES’ PUNCTUM, WHEN HE WAS STRUCK THROUGH WITH THE IMAGE OF HIS MOTHER, OUR IMAGINATION CAN NEVER REALLY LOCATE THE SINGULAR SUBJECT.

IT IS ALWAYS MULTIPLE, ALWAYS PLURAL.

ON THE OTHER HAND, HESITATING TOO LONG ON THE THOUGHT: WE WISH WE WERE TOGETHER, CAN LEAD US TO THE SHARP IMPLICATION THAT WE ARE ABSOLUTELY NOT TOGETHER AND ARE NOT SURE WHEN WE WILL BE TOGETHER AGAIN.

CONSIDERING THE DIVISION OF REALITY FROM IRREALITY, SARTRE EXPLAINS HOW “THE APPREHENSION OF THE ONE COINCIDES WITH THE ANNIHILATION OF THE OTHER.” 

JUST AS REALITY IS OVERCOME WHILE DREAMING, THE DREAM CANNOT WITHSTAND THE HARSH LIGHT OF THE REAL.

BY EXAMINING THE WISH-FULLNESS OF OUR DREAM, THE REAL AND EVER-PRESENT DETAILS OF LIVING IN A BODY WITH PAIN AND HABITUAL NEEDS MAKES IT DIFFICULT TO MAINTAIN THE CHEERY GLAZE OF FANTASY, ABANDONING US TO MELANCHOLY.

SIMILARLY, TO SAY, WE WISH WE WERE YOUNG, IMPLIES THAT WE ARE, IN THE PRESENT TENSE, NOT SO YOUNG, OR AT LEAST NOT AS YOUNG AS WE ONCE WERE, OR AT LEAST WE DON’T FEEL VERY YOUNG—AND THE SHEER OBVIOUSNESS OF THIS REALITY SNAPS BACK THE DULL ACHE OF SITTING IN AN OFFICE CHAIR OR STANDING ON HARD GROUND, FEELING THIRSTY AND SNACKY.

AND SO, EVEN THOUGH APPLYING THE IRREALIS MOOD RISKS RETURNING US TO AN INEVITABLY THICK AND MESSY PRESENT, ALL THIS LOOPING BACK AND FORTH IS A REMINDER THAT TIME CAN ONLY BE UNDERSTOOD AS BRACKETED, DEPENDENT ON THE COMPLEX AND UNEVEN CONDITIONS OF OUR EXISTENCE.

THERE IS ALWAYS AN IFFYNESS TO TIME: A NOWISHNESS WITHIN THIS HEREISHNESS.

RECENTLY, UPON ASKING MY STUDENTS TO RESPOND TO THE QUESTIONS, WHERE ARE WE? AND WHEN ARE WE?

K ANSWERED, “AS IF WE WERE LIVING 85 SECONDS TO MIDNIGHT ON THE DOOMSDAY CLOCK AND IN THE SEASON WHEN THE CROWS RETURN.”

STEPPING OUTSIDE THESE THOUGHTS, I COME UP AGAINST THE SEDUCTION OF AMATEUR LINGUISTICS.

I BREAK RULES AND DO NOT EVEN CLOCK THEIR EXISTENCE.

TRACING EPHEMERAL ETYMOLOGIES LIKE A CLUMSY KITTEN TRACKING A FLY.

AS AN ARTIST, DO I TURN TOWARDS THE IRREALITY OF LANGUAGE (AND DREAMS) TO ESCAPE THE WEIGHT OF DAILY EXISTENCE, THE BURDEN OF SO MUCH PHYSICAL DECISION MAKING?

A RELIEF FROM THE PROCESSES OF SCULPTURE, SO HEAVY AND CUMBERSOME—WHICH MOOR ME TO MY OWN MEATY MATERIALITY.

WITH ITS DISILLUSIONING SENSE OF REALITY.

WILL I BE ABLE TO LIFT THIS MASS?

CAN I BEAR THAT LOAD?

TODAY’S TEXT FROM H READS, “I WONDER IF THOSE WHO MADE NEOLITHIC GODDESS FIGURINES WERE SATISFIED? TECHNOLOGY FOR THE IMMATERIALITY OF THE VIDEO ADVANCES, BUT OUR HANDS ARE STILL THE HANDS THAT MADE THOSE FIGURINES.”