In addition to recording our corporeal experiences, the human memory also records incorporeal experiences from imagination and dreams which are not dependent on chronology. Interestingly, for corporeal experiences to become memories is to convert them into incorporeal experiences, sortable from imagination and dreams only by their origin. As memories, our corporeal experiences become potential sources for new experiences through imagination and dreams.
When I remember the apartment complex in New Jersey where I lived for five years as a child, I remember it through the prism of the many dreams I have had of the place since then. I can remember the mundane details in the original context, but now those memories are set in a symbolic context packed with meaning. When I visited twenty years ago, the profusion of memories--corporeal and incorporeal--made it feel like I was visiting one of my life's primary metaphysical sets.
I value my dreams because they are the authentic, often memorable expressions of the broadest perspective available to my being. I take the mind seriously and it seems to reciprocate.
Years ago, I can't tell you when but the memory is at least twenty years old, I saw in a dream that the being who is me travels through space and time with a group of planets in a cosmic caravan. Another time, more than thirty years ago, I met a female spirit who spent an entire night in my dream, telling me the story of the being who is me and answering my questions. I don't remember many details, but the story moves with Gypsies and Jews mostly northward and westward through the world over thousands of years with the seat of power.
From a shockingly one-sided battle in Canaan between refined and archaic, to being imprisoned by thieves for a lifetime in a cave in Jerusalem, to living among the precipices of Petra, to being chased by Mongol horsemen in an Austrian forest, to decorating a small Christian chapel on a mountainside in Portugal, to a massacre in France and a river choked with corpses, to life in a comfortingly familiar London before sewage, to Colonial America where I was told specifically that it was not time yet, the many period dreams I have had color the way I experience history. For me, it feels personal and sometimes oppressively Sisyphean.
It appears that I am, metaphorically speaking, the severed hand of a being who is too big for this world, in the same way that Loki is the severed hand of Týr. This hand demonstrates that the distance over which the boulder can be pushed is proportional to the quality of available information. The insufficiency of quality information is what encumbered and destroyed Marvel Whiteside Parsons. I learned about him through a dream that included L. Ron Hubbard, who was sent by the Office of Naval Intelligence to infiltrate the Thelema lodge he administered for Aleister Crowley.
Jack Parsons was an extraordinary person, but he ended up being the victim of organized fraud. He was the founder of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and his ideas were the inspiration for Scientology. He supported the aristocratic Crowley for years, and he put up the money for the three yachts that ended up forming the basis of the Scientology Navy. I don't know the precise nature of my connection with Jack, but it is close.
Funny enough, President Trump is probably the severed hand of Hermes/Mercury. If he were more than a hand, he wouldn't be a corrupt jerk. He does seem to be aware of his provenance, though. His father surely gave him his inheritance. He combs his hair to resemble a brimmed hat with wings. He is the quick one with the hat and a tan, and nearly impervious to heat. I dislike having him pitted against me. Apparently, my alter ego is quite fond of his.
Some of my dreams are set in the future. Many times I don't remember them until the moment they represent, like déjà vu with an actual memory. The ones with catastrophes are instantly memorable. It is the details of these dreams that compel me to question the finality of time. "Time travel" is most likely impossible from our scale and configuration, but from a scale and configuration which includes space-time manifolds in their entirety, it would be theoretically possible to enter them at any locus. For a sculptor with such a perspective and a motivation to revise, time would be no object. I have seen the end of this world several times.