Fresh Blood: A Dream Morphology
Dreamed Aug. 1980? by Carolee Schneemann
THE DREAM
Section I
Two English men, Bruce and I sitting in a circle, back of a large taxi (London style or NY Checker). We are being driven to a concert. They are famous writers or "producers." We are relating anecdotes about unexpected violence at "rock" concerts or unexpected little daily accidents. . .in any event, the handsome older man in suit and raincoat, says "I'm bleeding you know."
Bruce & I think it's a metaphor or a joke, until later during this ride, B. looks over and comments, "Why yes, there's a spot of blood on your trousers." We wonder how this cut came about, confined as we are. I have a sudden fear it might be from my umbrella; perhaps I inadvertently jabbed his leg getting into the taxi. He smoothly opens the trousers along the crease over his thigh: we can see vivid, fresh "flower" of blood spurting there. I exclaim, "This could be serious, we must tell the driver to take us to a doctor."
I immediately sense that the driver of the taxi is a doctor.
Section II
My shoes were too delicate. I couldn't remember which direction led to the center of town. When I went to the department store--a very dusty, failing sort of one--I realized the bouquet of "dolls & leaves" you had brought me seemed extremely heavy. I left you in the cafeteria/restaurant on the mezzanine. The basement waiting room of the famous European Veterinarian was crowded. I considered your gift of the bouquet of "dolls and colored fall leaves" might be appropriately left there.
I crawled out from your arms and the cats in bed, to take a pee. The dream recall was triggered by astonishment to see my thighs covered with blood. (Each month I forget to expect the period--unless late--and experience the "surprise." Other women have mentioned the same sort of repeated "forgetfulness.")
Last night we made love on the couch. I got into a curious acrobatic position tipped up, almost balanced on my head upside down; your penetration so intensely deep, full, felt "you came out the other end of me", or "made a hole in the top". (Exquisite.)
Later we went down the hill for a drink at our local country bar. I the back room we heard an incredible rock and roll band, the five men were dressed in bizarre sequined outfits. We stayed to dance.
As for the English men; I had been reading Waugh off & on. Another mutation of you and A. McC?--your shared British ancestors? My recurrent dream interweaves to relay the past into present; spaces in me/with me you both have or do occupy... or the years lived in England now "dreamlike," where I studied dream analysis....
(The degree of sexual denial, blood taboos there. . . made the first blood pages and blood performance works, London '71,'72.)
SOURCE: Dreamworks: an Interdisciplinary Quarterly (v.2, no.1, fall 1981, p.70-71), except color shot of Fresh Blood, from Women Dreaming-into-Art: Seven Artists who Create from Dreams by Patricia Ariadne, 2006; (photographer uncredited; sorry)
Editor's Note
The sort of genital/morphological/visual puns in Schneemann's dream-sketch cross gender lines. Here's a sketch from my own dream Boy Body:
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