For the upcoming project, we were told to create a piece of work on the theme of dreams. I decided to do mine on a dream that I remember from last year.
The content of this dream – or rather, nightmare – can be read in the following script which I will be reading as the central part of the work.
The misty pond was surrounded by a thick wilderness of bulrush. On the far side of the pond, a grand old willow stretched out above the lake like an old man's hand, its leaves combing through the surface of the water. The water was coated in a thick scum of tundra coloured algae that moved as some amorphous being, littered with natural debris. I thought I saw a figure underneath the shading tree, washing some cloth or fabric, but as the breeze blew the branches, the apparition was no more. I turned and stood facing the derelict old building. One of the two towering wooden doors was ajar, and I went in, submerging myself in darkness, as the grand door shut behind me in silence. This damp room was small, with contorted walls that leaned and bowed like ancient trees. They were spotted with black mould. The peeling scab of wallpaper looked like a discarded newspaper in the puddle of a gutter. Its once luxurious azure gleam only now made the walls viler and colder in this dark dank tomb. These walls, rising to oblivion, had no end. The ceiling - if such a term is applicable - was an endless inverted well, a great void of black. I was then aware of the sound of footsteps. In front of me, another door, much less grand, began to move as the handle turned. The door slowly opened to a figure with a candlestick in hand. A pale veiled woman in a white nightgown. She stood with her wet black hair dripping, sending trails of inky black down her cold robed body. In her right hand, a blood-stained rag dripped, rhythmically, forming a puddle at her peculiar feet. Her blue lips unmoving, the wind whistled through the cracks of the walls. “I am your guide.” I asked: “Where are we going?” SILENCE “Where are we going?” SILENCE “Where are we going?” SILENCE “To the bottom of the lake” The candle flame began to flicker. The walls creaked and cracked. The once whispered wind wailed wild. The lady snapped back her head, teary red eyes wide and shrieked a banshee's cry. END
This dream was likely subconsciously inspired by my reading of ghost stories by M.R James, and a specific scene from Tarkovsky’s Mirror (1975).
I have read some of “The Weird and the Eerie” by Mark Fisher, and hope to eventually elaborate on this, as well as on the Hauntology of “Ghosts Of My Life”.
Elements of the dream, such as the lady talking through the wind, the bloody cloth and ‘peculiar feet’ have been dramatised and expanded upon after reading about the mythology of the Banshee, Caoineag, Bean-nighe, Cyhyraeth and the Midnight Washerwomen.
While researching Banshees, I came across the traditional Irish and Scottish practice of keening, a form of vocal lament for the dead.
https://alanlomaxarchive.bandcamp.com/track/keen-for-a-dead-child
This led me to spend time researching Alan Lomax, an ethnomusicologist, musician and folklorist.
The dimension of cultural equity needs to be added to the humane continuum of liberty, freedom of speech and religion, and social justice.
Alan Lomax
Folklore can show us that this dream is age-old and common to all mankind. It asks that we recognize the cultural rights of weaker peoples in sharing this dream. And it can make their adjustment to a world society an easier and more creative process. The stuff of folklore—the orally transmitted wisdom, art and music of the people can provide ten thousand bridges across which men of all nations may stride to say, “You are my brother.”
Alan Lomax
Lomax talks about local cultures as something that should be maintained through the diversity of culture, in opposition to the oppression of cultural hedgemony that occurs through nationalism and the concept of universal popular culture. He calls this cultural equity.
I also found the British Library Sound Archives (available on https://sounds.bl.uk/) to be a great resource for a number of archived conversations on local ghost stories across the UK.
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