CONTINUOUS NARRATIVE

The artist generated this text in part with GPT-3, OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model.

Upon generating draft language, she reviewed, edited, and revised the language so as to give it a syncopated cadence, reminiscent of how we recall and recount dreams: in bits and pieces. She takes ultimate responsibility for the content of this publication.

About the artist.

 

 

CONTINUOUS NARRATIVE (DISPATCHES FROM THE COLLECTIVE DREAMWORLD.)

 Part One

 Part Two

 Part Three

 

 

 

I am told that the cheese used to produce these rinds was left here to ferment and dry. As I attempt to eat the rind, a large fly lands on my arm and I am unable to move.

 

I am eaten up, alive.

 

I am walking out of a grocery store, carrying a bag of groceries. I am walking behind a couple, man and woman. The woman is wearing a long dress, dragging her heels as she walks.

 

I make my way up the stairs of a very large and beautiful building; I see that this is a library and on the second floor there is a huge chess board being played by all the people inside.

 

I am in a gigantic, cylindrical room. It has a low ceiling, like an inverted tower or a silo.

 

I recognize the rind to be that of a cheese that is made of goat milk. A woman approaches and points out the cheese rind. I confirm that it is indeed goat cheese.

 

I am excited and start eating it. As I do, the cheese rind transforms into a thick layer of fungus. The fungus is delicious, and I continue to devour it, even if it is growing thicker and longer, taking up more and more space in my mouth.

 

I am still starving; I want to keep eating the fungus, but it feels disgusting on my fingers. There’s a woman in the room; she is on her knees with her face in the corner of a carpeted floor. She is sick, throws up a lot, and I am trying to help her.

 

I am in a dimly lit room that resembles a basement. There are a few people around. I am holding the hands of a woman who has a very sad face and cannot stop looking at her. She begins sobbing, uncontrollably. A tour guide appears and tells us that this is a traditional cheese cave. We are then led through a maze of wooden planks and stone walls and into a huge underground stone chamber.

 

I am flying through clouds with a large bird.

 

He is my guide.

 

I ask him if he knows anything about the big bang. He tells me that he has been around for a very long time, and he has seen it all.

 

A friend of mine is speaking to me about her recent break up. She is telling me how she found out that her boyfriend cheated on her with a friend. I am trying to console her, but the conversation is clearly going nowhere.

 

I sit down on the wooden plank and begin breaking it down with my hands, eating it. I am in the middle of a raging sea storm with a group of people; they’re rowing a small boat while I’m eating the plank.

 

We make it to a distant shore.

 

I see a light from my peripheral vision and turn to see a huge ball of light hovering just above the roof of the adjacent building.

 

I am walking on a dirt road, but the road is flooded up to my knees.

 

I need to get to higher grounds.

 

I am in a very small city; it is like a movie set with a two-lane road and a chain link fence surrounding the perimeter.

 

I walk down a long hallway, one that is strangely familiar. I can see a shadow of a person in front of me, and the shadow of another person behind me; no matter how fast or slow I walk, they keep the same distance from me.

 

I am looking for a perfect place to spend the night. I see a car parked in a driveway. I knock on the window to see if the car is empty, but it is not. I am told that they have no room for me, but that they do have a mattress in the trunk.

 

I am in a dark room, filled with smoke.

 

I see a blind man in a corner, who has a toothpick in his hand. He is using the toothpick to pierce the skin of his upper lips and nose to allow the smoke to enter his body.

 

It is late at night, I am sitting alone on the floor of a large, stone church. I hear sobbing from the back of the sanctuary. A beautiful teenager, completely naked, walks down the aisle and sits next to me.

 

I am being chased by women, but they will not catch me. I am running down a street; a car is parked on the side of the road. I run into the car and hide, then jump out and run off again.

 

I am in a large, white, bare room. There are a few white tables with white chairs. I have a white apron on and a clipboard in my hands.

 

I am in a cave, on the floor is a gigantic puddle of dark red blood. I am holding a small, black, bat-like creature. I am very hungry.

 

I place the bat inside my mouth and suck out its blood.

 

I examine it closely and notice that it has been molded into a three-dimensional image of the Virgin Mary; it is so beautiful I throw it over the edge of an underground cliff; a dog is waiting below; it looks up at me and starts to growl.

 

I am at a formal dinner where I am seated next to the guest of honor. The waiter approaches our table with a tray of small, appetizer sized, food. I make a comment to my neighbor that the food is not enough; I will have to eat the guest of honor’s portion.

 

I am in a tropical climate, in a room with a view of the ocean. We are having a party, but I am not having any fun. I go outside, cross a small bridge and find a small island, with a small stone wall surrounding it. I sit on the wall, pensively.

 

I am in a dark room filled with people. It is mostly empty except for a small white dog. I go to pet it, but I am intercepted by a man with a long beard, who is very rude and aggressive towards me, he tells me not to pet the dog.

 

I am climbing down an ancient stone staircase; it is made of limestone and is beautifully carved. There are ancient watermarks on the stone wall. I arrive in a large, empty, dark space; I walk around, looking for the source of the white noise.

 

I am running from a man through a labyrinth of corridors, I am barefoot, and the carpet is made of tiny wood shavings.

 

I continue running down corridors, and up some stairs. I am afraid the man will catch me. I finally wake up to find him in my bed.

 

I am on a boardwalk; the waves are crashing within inches of my feet and the water is of a deep blue; I look down to see the blue water collide against a large green rock; the collision forms a black cone, inside it, the proof that nothing exists.

 

I am in a room filled with people, all sitting in a circle. Everyone is wearing a helmet, except me. We are all holding a piece of paper with a letter written on it.

 

The letters spell out the word that we are studying.

 

I am in a strange hotel room, like a hostel with bunk beds. There is a long row of beds filled with people. I can’t tell who is in the room with me, but I can feel they are there.

 

I am having a conversation with the people about how important it is to focus on being productive. Everyone is relating his or her own life experiences, each one trying to outdo the previous speaker.

 

I am on a small bus.

 

The bus is made of bright yellow plastic.

 

It is being driven by a giant aardvark.

 

It is moving forward and backward, like a toy car on a track. The giant aardvark is not doing this on purpose; he is simply trying to get to the next stop.

 

I am driving and it is very difficult to see out of the windshield. I am having a hard time keeping the car on the road; it is a four-wheel drive, and I am driving on ice.

 

I am walking down the street and see a man, in a black coat, with a black bag. He is on the phone, and I can tell by the way he walks that he is talking to a woman.

 

I cannot see his face, but I know it is distorted and otherwise out of sort.

 

I am exploring an empty, long, rectangular room. I enter from one end and walk to the other.

 

I keep coming back to the same end, as if the room is folded upon itself.

 

I am in a small, enclosed space that is preparing to take off. I can hear a large amount of air being pumped into a large chamber.

 

I feel myself getting heavier, my feet are crushed under the weight of my body.

 

I am walking on the beach; the water is clear and calm. I come across a fence that I want to cross. I am not sure I should be there. I climb up the fence and notice a man standing on the other side, waiting for me.

 

I am living in this cave, I live in the dark, with a lantern, a lighter and a book.

 

I am in a strange house, the furniture is all missing and the light is all wrong. I find a small child playing with a doll. He is alone in the house, and does not appear to notice me.

 

I am holding on to mangled cables.

 

I see the car fall from the sky, all the while the cables are pulling me higher and higher.

 

It is violently raining; the car is coming down fast. It is much larger than me and I can’t possibly jump to safety.

 

I see the car get closer; I look up at the thin cable, finally, I let go, still holding on to the small pouch filled with marbles that is attached to my belt. I can see the land getting closer and closer, the vehicle is headed towards the middle of a small village, the driver is still asleep. I see a young man in the passenger seat, looking at me. He is smiling. The car falls, the young man looks at me again, smiles, then disappears into the bottomless drop.

 

I am floating through the air; I do not know where I am going.

 

It feels very peaceful, I am weightless.

 

The car is now moving down in a controlled way. The rain abates, and I try to see the road ahead. I see that we are coming down on the roof of another vehicle.

 

I cannot help but scream; the young man is holding my hand.

 

I now see a giant hand pushing our car. It is the hand of a man who must be 20 meters tall.

 

The large man helps me back into the car, then turns into an ant and I shake him off. I see the ant disappear into a large pile of twigs and leaves.

 

I find myself in a hammock, the ground is soft and covered with leaves. I am looking at a group of women, they are all wearing skirts. They are intertwined with each other. The faces of the women are well-defined. The young man is now standing next to me, holding a very long, rusty, knife and a large egg in his hands.

 

The contents of the egg are wriggling.

 

I’m not sure where I am; I see a beautiful girl with long black hair. She is riding her bicycle on the side of the road. Her head is down, she is crying.

 

I decide to dive straight back into the clouds.

 

I feel my body pass through some strange substance, like jelly.

 

I seem to be moving at an incredible speed; I don't know where I am going, but I am ready to get there

 

It is night; I am in a room and hear an orchestra.

 

I come to and feel like I have been slumbering for a very long time. I get up and see the young man’s body; it is hanging from the ceiling by the belt of my jacket.

 

I see a woman sitting in one of the many patios. She is painting a still life of a bowl of fruit resting on a table. I walk over and look at her work.

 

The fruit is all rotten and falling apart.

 

As she paints, the fruit continues to rot. She points to the bowl and says that I can have whatever I want. I reach in and pull out a large, green, rotten apple.

 

The apple is squishy, and I can feel the individual chemicals that compose its flesh and skin. Its texture is that of a large, rotten banana.

 

I throw the apple to the floor, and it explodes, splattering the floor and leaving a sticky residue all over the patio.

 

The woman is upset and says that I ruined her painting.

 

I have no idea who he is, but he is very rude. He openly expresses his dislike for me and complains that I have ended up in the wrong house.

 

I tell him that this is my house and that I am not willing to give it up. He replies that I am just a tenant and I have no right to the property.

 

He then proceeds to rip me to shreds, tearing me into many tiny pieces, and throws them all over the place.

 

I am aware that this is my own personal hell, and I cannot do anything about it.

 

I follow a narrow red brick walkway, it is lined with small white lights and partially covered with a canopy of bamboo and tropical plants

 

I see a man sitting with a group of others by the pool. He is dressed like a cowboy, complete with spurs and a cowboy hat. He is also wearing a large, fake white beard and mustache and is wearing glasses. The frames of the glasses are black, the lenses are clear. He does not speak. No one else around him acknowledges his presence.

 

I see myself rising from the water.

 

I am rising above the water like a ladder, rising and rising and rising.

 

We sit on the carpeted stairs, not saying anything, just looking at each other. I have a large, heavy object in my hand. I stand up and walk outside, head down. I am not sure where I am going or what I am going to do.

 

I am not sure what I am carrying.

 

I peer up from my position on the floor and notice that I am on a very long plank. The end is nowhere in sight.

 

I am staring at a single bright star that is slowly moving from right to left.

 

A bright white line connects it to a large, black cloud. It is as if a shooting star has suddenly turned into a small, white cloud.

 

 

I know that she is very accommodating, helping me navigate through the house. She tells me that I can live here again if I would like to.

 

Someone is on a swing; others are sitting on the ground. I cannot see the faces clearly; they are hidden behind the fleshy leaves of the large gardenia bushes. I am waving to them, trying to get their attention, but they do not seem to notice me. I feel very upset and try to talk to my current hostess, but she gently pushes me out of the house and tells me to go home.

 

She is waving goodbye and smiling. She tells me not to worry.

 

I am to meet him in the dining room, but as I make my way there, I feel as if I am floating, as if I am not actually taking steps to walk.

 

I arrive at the dining room and see my father sitting at the table. He is holding an empty wine glass. I try to speak with him, but he is too busy doing the "Gatsby" shuffle. He is wearing a white suit and a white fedora. He is drunk and appears to be waiting for someone; we do not talk. He mentions that his meeting is about to start and that I should be on my way.

 

I see him standing in the middle of the foyer, wearing a white, loose fitting linen shirt, khaki shorts, no shoes.

 

He looks unkempt, unshaven, unwashed, unshorn.

 

He is drinking red wine from a large Styrofoam cup. He tells me that the house is now his because he has returned, but that I do not belong here, that I am a visitor.

 

He says that as a guest, I am permitted to roam freely through the many rooms, but I am not allowed to touch any of the art.

 

I find myself with a huge black cat on the beach, trying to keep it from running into the water. It looks as if it wants to swim.

 

I have been told to stay away from him, yet I cannot resist the urge to see him. He has been waiting for me, all I must do is walk through the door and I will be near him.

 

His voice is unlike any other I have ever heard. It is a strange combination of harmonies, ones that I have never heard before or since.

 

He sings a few lines from a song that he wrote himself. He is also a gifted pianist.

 

The song reaches a singular note, a note that strains from a deep place.

 

He tells me that he is now singing from a place of ease. I cannot help but stare at him as he sings, his face is as hot as a steam boiler.

 

I see myself in a dark room, a rectangular box at waist level.

 

I am observing a television screen on which a variety of colors and shapes are moving about. I can feel the warmth of the air in the room. I hear a buzzing sound coming from the television, although there is no audio. The screen is black and white with a narrow black line that runs horizontally across the center. The line is moving with the shapes and colors. I realize that if I were to turn on the audio, I would hear the buzzing and the line would give the pitch and the shapes and colors the rhythm.

 

I am walking around the house, trying to find hidden doors or rooms. I see a strange woman holding a towel over her naked body. I ask her what she is doing here. She does not answer. I keep walking around, trying to find another entrance. I see her walking towards me, but she refuses to look at me.

 

I know she is avoiding me.

 

I follow her upstairs, trying to approach her. She stops, looks back at me, then goes into the bathroom. I follow her in, she shuts the door. I try to open the door, she locks it.

 

 

I have not seen her in many years. She is a kind, easy going person. She is sitting next to me on an outdoor bench, wearing a crisp white dress. We are holding hands and chatting. I have been telling her how much I have missed this house. How come I have not been allowed to return here ever since I left?

 

I tell her that I would love to spend a summer here. She says that I should not stay for too long this time, that I should leave shortly after the sun sets. I should go back to the city instead. I am still holding her hand, it is cold.

 

I look at her face and see that she is not the same person.

 

I take her hand, it is in fact a large claw, which she uses to slice through my throat. I am bleeding out fast, I cannot get out of the house.

 

The room is swirling, people are shouting, I fall to the floor. I see a tall handsome, charming man who once had a great deal of influence on me, smiling in my direction.

 

I have been given a new lease on life; I decide to live in this home again.

 

I approach someone with caution. They greet me with a large smile and a hug, the manner of which is not familiar to me. We walk towards the patio, sit at a table, and begin to talk. We are moving very fast, both talking at the same time, but I cannot decipher a single word that either of us is saying.

 

I'm not sure if I can trust this person, I feel a sense of danger. I decide to discontinue the conversation.