Tag Archive for 'room'

Phobia, go away!

Published by
abraxus
 in void space. 0 Comments

OK, many people write here about their memories and dreams.
I would like to tap in subject of fears or phobias. Most of the phobias can’t be really traced. Some are probably imprinted in us. Let’s say, we don’t like snakes. I saw a snake first time when I was about 20, for instance, but remember, what when I was a kid, I always tried to sit in an armchair with legs up on the seat, as I was afraid what a snake would bite me from under. Even then I thought it can’t be possible what a snake would be on the 7th floor of our block of flats in a harsh winter, 20 Celsius below zero. But I couldn’t bring myself to put my feet down. I could spend a whole evening imagining scenarios of how a snake could sneak under my armchair.

Anyway, I suppose most of phobias are triggered by something in remote past, early childhood and long time forgotten memories. I can trace one my phobia though, as I can recall what happened to me.

I travelled to one remote city hitchhiking. I was very young, completely broke and wanted to see a girl I was in love with. To cut it short, she did not fancy me much and her boyfriend did even less. They lived in a massive hostel inhabited with hundreds students at that time. She had a kind heart, so instead of kicking me out I was fed and passed to a friend of hers who happened to live alone in a spacious room in that hostel. This friend of her was a girl of enormous size. She spoke in a deep low voice which could shake a glass and was torturing me all the way down along endless staircases and corridors with tales about her romantic adventures.
To be honest, my mind was occupied in that moment so I couldn’t remember what they were about even the next day, do not mention years later.

Eventually I found myself in her room. It was filled with hundreds of little objects. Everything was of dwarfs’ size. The girl obviously tried her best to fit in that space as many tiny objects as possible. Everything there was organized by a principle “the smaller is the better”. She had dolls’ furniture and cutlery, small carpets, miniature stereo and lots of stupid useless toy objects which she apparently was collecting.
It was too much… Simply beyond my capability to digest it. I left her place at once with a splitting headache.
That’s how I recognized that I have a psychological trauma about everything little.
Small things are just freaking me out; I don’t like dwarf pets, dogs and ponies either.

I wonder what I can do with it. Well, some people could say that phobias and fixations are the integral part of our individuality. Phobium ergo est. I’m scared, therefore I exist. Johnny Depp is afraid of clowns for instance. They are freaking him out, he said in his recent interview. I’ve met a girl while ago who confessed she is afraid of balloons. What’s wrong with clowns? What’s wrong with fucking balloons? Why do I have to feel uneasy surrounded by small objects? I tried to google my phobia, but couldn’t find even a specific name for it, so there was no way to find out how I can deal with it.
It’s not a serious problem though, just a little annoyance.
I have learnt anyway what one of the best ways to deal with phobias is to talk about them. That’s what this post is about actually, so you know.

abraxus

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Installation

Published by
silvia
 in dream. 2 Comments

I want to make an installation. As long as I didn’t make it yet, let’s call this post a virtual installation, as I am about to install it in virtual spaces: Internet and your consciousness. You can imagine yourself in it. It is real.

The idea for this installation is to present the viewers with a large amount of words and sentences scattered all over the walls and ceiling of a room. Words come from poems of my own and the language of the city, will be presented in a discontinued and non-sensual way. Although an attentive reading will give meanings and connections between all words and verses. Because of the disposition of the sentences on the walls, less attentive readers will experiment words flashing to them from a wall to another. There is an intended interaction-game to involve viewers into exploring the installation by themselves and getting something out of it. This consists on a game in which visitors will be given a piece of paper and a pen and will be told to make their own verses picking up randomly some of the given words.
The game will be explained on a piece of paper stuck on the door
as follows:

The important fact about urban living: the continued stream of second attention awareness. Every license plate, street sign, passing strangers, are saying something to you.
W. Burroughs

take a piece of paper and a pen before entering the room
inside will be some words which will choose you
write them down on the paper
fell free to shape them as you like
pin your paper on the window and
take with you the one telling you something

Continue reading ‘Installation’

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My first memory is a long, connected series of dreams

Published by
bartok fiend
 in memory. 0 Comments

My first memory is a long, connected series of dreams- so intense that they most likely wiped out all of the memories beforehand. I was 3 years old.Well, it starts off in a field in front of a large brick house. I am led to believe that my grandmother lives there, yet I cannot be sure because from the outside, this house looks as if it is on the shore of a teeming ocean of horror- not standard horror- but horror that for me has come in the form of textures and slow noises ever since this dream.

Inside this house, my mom and my little brother (and me of course) are led into a large white auditorium which, instead of seats, houses small, faceless ice-cherubs playing with small white balls. At the very end is a large white bed with a polar bear skin on it, and we stay there at th head of the room for awhile, just staring at them.

I am then walking down the front stairs of this house, and the walls are covered with some sort of red, gilded ‘design’. To my right is a large glass case built into the wall, with lion figurines in it. There is a volcano, and I press a red button to make it spout on the lions. It is mirrored; reflected. The lions appear to be covered in lava millions of times over. They melt.

Across the hall is a place I know about immediately, yet both dread and look forward to entering- it’s a secret room with no door that only I can go through- in it is nothing but a small table with my Aunt Connie seated at it, and rows and rows of large, talking rubber plants. My aunt appears very lonely, and I feel as if I could sit at that table with her, but I can’t. There is one chair, and while I feel somewhat capable in this room, the rubber plants scare me. I leave this room knowing i have been irrecoverably changed; in essence, a microcosm of the entire dream. Continue reading ‘My first memory is a long, connected series of dreams’

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Alien Abduction: A Scientific Account (continued)

Published by
Barry Mitchell
 in memory. 1 Comment

 Read from the beginning or visit my dedicated blog

Chapter 3. The Room Designed for Human Use

 I had no idea what to expect when we walked into the room, but I made a mental note to try and remember everything in detail, so that a proper record could be made later. For this reason, the best thing is to describe the room as factually as possible, so that the description can be of maximum use to science. The “room” was really a series of rooms, in other words, like a small flat on earth. The living room was about 12 feet by 14 feet and the floor was covered with brown acrylic wall-to-wall carpet. There was a pattern on the carpet that created a kind of swirly effect using mainly several shades of brown, but also some black, orange and flecks of grey. The walls of the room were covered with woodchip wallpaper painted cream. The main feature of the room was a three-piece suite. This was covered with brown cotton material laced with thin cream-coloured lines (the lines seemed to have tiny bumps on them). The sofa, a three-seater, was sitting against the centre of the wall, opposite where we now stood. In front of the sofa was a small coffee table with a brown formica top and slightly splayed legs. The legs had little round gold feet. A picture in a greyish-cream frame was hanging on the wall above the sofa. It was the well-known painting, “The Spanish Lady”. A large display cabinet and a bookshelf took up much of wall to our left. In the corner to my left, at an angle of approximately 45 degrees to the sofa, was a television placed on top of a small cabinet. The cabinet contained a video player. Beside the video cabinet was a small brown imitation wood table with a cream plastic telephone on top. The main feature of the wall to my right was a stone-effect fireplace within which was placed a “Magicoal” electric fire. The fire was turned on (but not the bars) and the little mechanical flames danced up and down. I sensed the Grey was watching me, looking for signs that would show my reaction to the room. I thought it best not to say too much, either for or against. “Very nice” was all I said. Continue reading ‘Alien Abduction: A Scientific Account (continued)’

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