Posts Tagged ‘I love you’


the words I love you
— involuntary sobbing —
parenthood is raw

Plenty of striking dreams last night, but I have stuck with the most emotional image. I’ve forgotten the context, but I found myself embracing a small boy as the words ‘I love you’ came from my lips without the slightest forethought. It was just like being sick or ejaculating or any involuntary process where the body itself takes over and decides what’s happening. At the same time, there was also no dissociation so I believed the words and the emotion of love. It was an inescapable conclusion that the small boy was my son, although in real life I have (as far as I know) no offspring at all. I am preparing currently in waking life, a talk on the subject of spirituality and mental health. My own personal understanding of the word spirituality has been strongly influenced by Jung’s Septem Sermones at Mortuos, where spirituality and sexuality are paired. But why would I want to turn my talk into a Jung lecture? So yesterday it struck me that I could say something much simpler and more universal. Surely it’s universal, the same for everyone, that Love has both a spiritual and a sexual aspect? I suspect my dream last night expresses the impossibility of knowing whether love comes from the body or from the spirit. It obviously can come from both at once. And yet the distinction seems to be one that we are all predisposed to find.



the nuclear bomb
explodes like an orgasm
— or like the words I
love you
— terrible beauty —
aching to be understood

Both these symbolic equivalents for a nuclear explosion (orgasm and ‘I love you’) have been part of my private system of symbols for longer than I care to remember. I’m still as bemused as ever, wondering just how many other people would have thought of the same idea, across the world during the last 70 years that we’ve had a nuclear bomb. It seems pretty important, as symbols go.

In my dream last night, a nuclear explosion was imminent, centred on Paddington in London. I was located first of all at the heart of where the bomb was (it seemed to be a secret police facility) and then by the time it went off, I had managed to escape up Edgware Road towards Kilburn. People had received a couple of minutes’ warning and were panicking, trying to get into shop doorways off the street. Piling like sardines into a holding area meant for rubbish.

The thought behind the dream seems to be this: whenever I watch pornography behind Liz’s back, and reach orgasm, the event of orgasm impacts spiritually on Liz like a nuclear shockwave. I don’t know whether this is true or not. But the dream articulates, graphically, a vague notion that is always at the back of my mind.


childhood is recent
— the womb a million years
ago — death is soon —
and it’s because I love you
that the present moment sings

I dreamed of some kind of concert organised by my sister who in real life is a singer. I was quite rude about her singing, and then felt guilty. The audience was congregating on a raised bank of earth, and I knew that my childhood model train set lay buried superficially just under our feet. Recovering it was complicated by major engineering works on this very spot involving the sinking of a shaft, miles deep. I ventured a glimpse down the shaft and was overcome with vertigo. The dream ended with myself and my mother walking uphill through some pleasant woods, with arms linked like a pair of lovers. The shaft in the earth, miles deep, had to be the womb. The pair of lovers being myself and my mother is of course difficult to deal with, awake. And online. But I’m quite pleased with the way this translates into a completely non-specific ‘I love you’ in the poem. The exact phrase Because I love you is also a throwback to a dream I had in the eighties, where I believed the Soviet cosmonaut Svetlana Savitskaya was accessing certain personal memories of my sex life, telepathically. That dream (I believed at the time) was a telepathic vehicle of compassion from her to me.