Painting the Mountain Red

At the beginning of this dream [person A] is at a workshop where I made a painting of mixed materials and structures.

In front of me I see a mountain, which I think is Mount-Hood in Oregon. I take a picture of it to project on the wall to make a red map. It is a dramatic composition: a sunset over a rustic mountainous landscape, one of which has a natural red hue.

I take a picture of the mountain and fuse the drawing, the landscape, and the painting with red. I proudly show my masterpiece to my friend [person A]. It is a painting that we see through the telephone. It is a landscape of mountains that extend into the distance: in the foreground, there are mountains and snow peaks, a chain of mountains lies behind them. Even though the perspective is distorted by the lens of the camera, the

mountains in the photograph look immense. I used the red paint to highlight the mountains on the black background to create a surrealist illusion. I show [person A] my creating though the telephone screen.

In the same dream, in a parallel version, my mother is at the entrance of [person B]’s house next to a group of people. They are my family and can’t wait to see me. I am not interested in seeing them; I am only interested in the creation of my painting. My mother made me a delicate wooden box for me to store my paints in.

From a distance, I see [person C]’s younger brother enter [person B]’s house through a narrow entrance surrounded by pots. He dresses like Robert Smith.

[person B] is old but he is still alive. I am happy he has kept his house, even if it is out of nostalgia.

His eldest daughter drives by the outside of the house in a car. When she sees me she stops to ask if I have called a taxi.

She then arrives as a taxi driver, which confuses me, and I wonder to myself, why would she ask if I didn’t call one or need one?

I avoid the discomfort and I ask her to come later on. She tells me she has an appointment in the morning but that she is available after 12:00. “Where do you want to go?” she asks, to which I respond – “from the Mexico City Museum to La Dehesa. But I want to go later.”

A place is both a displacement of time and a physical distance. Places are in different cities around the world. They are a partial compromise: far, but not far enough to unwind. It is ethical because she is my political cousin. That said, the best option is for me organize my trip to the museum with [person C].

At the end, I went into [person B]’s house and found [person D], reading a newspaper annex. “What are you doing reading the horoscope?” I ask her as I wonder what mine would say.

Night 086