Dreaming…you enter a room with an arrangement of objects varying in scale, color, and materials. Your coyote, the imaginative part of your mind, momentarily handcuffs the professor, the analytical part of your mind. An urge to contextualize the situation is muffled by the room’s mystery. There are over twenty-five objects on view. You gather that five different artists produced them considering the range of sensibilities. The professor mumbles that according to a certain psychology, everything that appears in your dream is a representative of your psyche. It’s mildly unsettling to wonder how dimensional forms relate to the intangible qualities of one’s personality. A group of busts made of materials that conceal and reveal their features sit on a pedestal. Seemingly random subject matters are placed together- a boy with foil eyes, a despot, a monk, and others. Like a library of archetypes, the portraits depict the human body as a changing monument. You envision civilization as a chain plummeting into a sea of history and every person is a link. What can anchor such a chain? Your coyote sits staring toward a remnant of Zeus’ kitchen wall upon which lean leftover thunderbolts. Their brilliance has decayed into a cake-like consistency made of concrete. Another object comes into view that manifests the feeling of how remembrance of a god like Zeus makes one feel small and insignificant. Hung on the wall like a hunting trophy is a colossal football helmet made out of carpet smothered in silver paint. Flattened and cut like a world map, a splayed shopping cart is the facemask. You speculate about a truly flat world as the ancients believed. Would the hands of the clock spin at all? Recollecting other ways the world has been depicted throughout time- an enormous tortoise, a tree, and a drop of water; creation myth and the myth of creating looms around the room. You’re drawn to a bottle in the wall that distorts a bonsai tree made of expanding foam and twigs. This Dream is like a do it yourself hologram. The things around you are so vivid but you can’t touch them. Flashes between self-consciousness and observation nearly disrupt the illusion. You come to an understanding that making an object actualizes a feeling in space and is an opportunity for one to define their place in the world. It’s the process of representation that challenges logic to find new ways of bending. Even what appears to be a simple wooden rectangle can be filled with questions. You’re inspired by that possibility and want to see with your hands. Unabashedly you take your eyes out and starting molding them like clay to make a mask. You start making noises to animate the crafting of the material as you did when you were a child and believed the thing in your hand had a life. It starts to look the way you want it- a mix between a cat and a slice of pizza. As it gets closer to completion the sounds coming from the mask are getting progressively louder and weirder. As a result, you wake up and slowly open your eyes. All you see is darkness and you start to panic thinking you actually pulled your eyes out. It takes a few seconds to realize your cat is on your face.