Facts 360 B.C. -A.D.2012 is a personal time marker for me. It is a reminder of when things really started to change in the world. Perhaps only when I noticed it but thankfully I do not have to believe in that difference. It felt that way so hence it is truth.
Truth , be it upper case or lower, is considered a transitive property these days. I would be remiss to say that I have been known to make this mistake, to believe the light of my ego is the only illumination. Through the dim powers of recollection, I connect this idea of transitive reality to R.D. Laing‘s The Politics of Experience. Forgive me if my recollection is blurred. I read this in high school so I make no claim of authority. Besides in a bit about the rubber-ization of reality, too much research is besides the point. Laing’s postulation of how the interior world of the schizophrenic as having an internal consistency is probably my first contact with surrealism.
The idea of dreams being the computer code of the brain makes this claim very hard to substantiate. I have memories of watching a bewildering documentary of Dali that was created by the man himself throws this idea of initial contact into question. And further more does it matter?
In the 21st century, Psychology is deemed psychic pest control, a means to root out buried evils, only inches away from fortune telling, which oddly has a better rep. To my thinking, the greatest value of this science is proof of the interior thought, the buried image. Instead of careful regard, this psycho-geography is feared and ridiculed. Somehow if we do not look in its direction, we will be protected.
Ignoring something has a limited usefulness. When thinking of surrealism, or its ancestor dadaism, focus is not the first thing that comes to mind. It is about the panic of the traffic jam or detention in a foreign country, where none of the words sound like your language yet decide your fate. Movement through this interior space is about understanding the shape of the imagination. Without understanding, facts and imagination become one and the same, an expression of control, a road to ruin.