J. Lucas II. a.k.a. Aesthetarchon
The only connection I have to it is (presently) not knowing it, but the memory of once having known it; but, if what it is were truly absent, with no imagery or definitive recollection of any kind to assist me, how could I be in the present state of re-membering in the remembering-of-something-I-do-not-remember? Something a priori must linger with neither reference nor transparency. Like a vibration, or an after-shock, something has taken place. . . A feeling washes up that is nearly identical to that of a clear picture, but one that never actually arrives (a haunting of Derridean dream-cinders). Only a tactile sense, that itself evades our confidence, is carried over or remains, i.e., of how one felt, like remembering the hug of a dear friend minus the recall of the friend. It might as well be said that this is the after-effect of the unconscious: somewhere this knowledge must be contained, which would account for its quasi-recollected, confused, and emotional residue. As if the dream inscription could be apprehended at any of its points; the dream-text dangling like a bunch strings—any part within reach, yet touching on any one detaches it from the whole, relaying a sense with no unity or causality to the whole of which it is related (a hermeneutic of dreams). E.g., I feel a spur to tragedy or romance, of last night’s happening, but that is all. And I know this feeling is somehow connected to the dream, because I’ve been here before, and this peculiarity typically leads to an unveiling of the dream. But some instances fall short, and we remain only with a trace or residuum of the dream inscription (Cf., Freud, who opened the writerly metaphor to the functionality of cognition and perception). This would imply a textuality of the dream somehow tucked away in the unconscious. A mark on the “mystic writing-pad” (Cf. Ibid.) – the transparent wax-sheet stands still, yet to relapse to its opening-and-closing program. But now we have replaced a question with an enigma. Our dime-store dialectic is of little help here. It is at such moments that philosophy ends in Proustianism. And why shouldn’t that suffice!?