Behind the lens, A snippet chatting with Roland Barthes in dream (Final Part) ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

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Barthes: You’re impossible, really an impossible staffs to face! I never met any Guys like you. It’s not easy to trail your sly narrative to the end. What is your motive man? Why you’re taking long time just to quote the trivial words you have seen in the dream! I like your narrative style but now it crosses the limit and appeared simply head aching to me.

I noticed that from the very beginning you try to represent the dream as a storyteller did to tell his story, but the most impressive story has its own limit my friend, otherwise the story is going to be boring for the listener. The plotting of your dream-story is feeble, when tells a story with a conversational narrative, it has to keep listener’s attraction by knitting several other stories to the origin.

The classical storytellers were masterful on it. I think you should read carefully the story of Homer, The Arabian Nights and must be the Indian epics; they were genius and artful to the story-telling narratives. You will find a lot of tricky signage in these great styles. Story within a story makes these classics interesting to the listeners and be the readers. Narrative of any story seems like the Banyan tree. The original source of the tree evermore interlinked and replaced by the sprouting sources, but never trackless to the origin.

Ancient storytelling was an endless knitting of one story by the thousands and that’s great. It was the collective effort of addition and subtraction, interruption and extension, and finally manipulation of narratives.

You will find arbitrary missing links, intertwined signage and prolix sentences and lot of contradictory events or dialogues in there, but strangely all this are packed up in one and original source. Ancient stories not only amazing to their mythical values, the narrative style is also outlandish to make you curious. When you read the epic, you have to read it oft despite the exotic signage and missing links of it.

The plotting style of your dream-story stands far behind that. Firstly, your dream is narrow to the context. The events and sources are non-diversified to extend the narration further long. Your storyline is simple; you quote my words as an answer of my question to you, and now you imported the thief in the storyline for extension. I’m sorry to say, the linkage of theft bit weird to consider the relation between dream-reality and the reality. Your trick is very feeble to attract the listeners or the readers to advancing further.

Sergey Brin, co-founder of Google appear

…: Sorry to say, you misinterpret me again. Look, I have no intention of storytelling. I’m not coming here to weaving a story and this is not my job at all. I came here to solve the nexus between the reality and the dream-reality. When I was quoting your text in dream, I felt the presence of the thief in my house. Two events were happening utmost the same ticks of time. I was in dream and be the same time in reality to get-wind-of the trolling thief in my room.

Existing on the both reality at the same time was horrid for me, because, I was hanging by the dilemma that which one is true by this moment! My physical organs were divergent to pick one from the two’s. You told and explained it many times that every artful object make its own reality to separate itself to the reality, and that’s the pleasure of text. Text is unconventional and could never be the same in reality.


Dream is not horrific as we used to think. It’s the pleasure heaven where the soul freely and willingly dodged by its own to understand the real one. You needed to sedate the bodied action if you wanted to explore the concealed words hide in your dark cave of mind. This is the key objective of any artful activities.


I think I experienced this on that day’s event. The thief was trolling and gabbling in my room to theft something, and I was clearly feeling this on the moment of quoting you. However, both events were identical and confusing for me. They hanged me on the contradiction that which I prefer first to pulls me out from the confusion. I wanted to get release from the confusion that I’m not staying in twin reality.

Once you said to a lecture that, the most blissful experience of reading and watching any textual object is to sacrifice your own reality to earn something new from the old, and then destroy the object by the new experience you achieved from this. Reading text means the death of old one by the reincarnation of new.

Anyway, I was indecisive that which would be best for me, -quoting your text in dream, or perhaps catch the burglar to punish. I confess, even I confused on certain moment that the thief is not real anymore and maybe it’s my hallucination.

I think dream is the bad experience of reality. You could never certain about it or translate the missing linkage to the end. Textual dream replace the reality permanently, so that you cannot relate the dream-reality to the reality you’re abiding.

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Barthes: I’m not ignoring you or the dream but not feel comfort to read it. You’re still reeling all around the fence and yet not capable to keep your feet on the real ground. That’s the tragedy of your dream-narration. Reality never changes by the presence of another reality. It does not change overnight. You troll on the dream and the thief’s gabbling in the bedroom, both are equally substantial to their own reality. Nothing is contradictory here. Contradiction belongs in your mind that how do you read this. Your sensory organs are not dead at all when you’re in sleep or dream anything.

Dream is the inner reaction of our mind to the extent of outer reaction; albeit they’re not the amalgamation of the same reality and that’s the difference between them. It is a reflection of outer reality indeed but an unprecedented neo-reality, and you had no idea that how to lived on it.

I think dream-events are untranslatable. You cannot translate it to the actual language you used to be. It doesn’t mean that the dream-realty is false. Problem of dream is textual. It contains its own images; and these images are shred of the unpleasant rhetoric, blurry and abrupt words, unconcealed and unfinished syllables between all the shred. The signage and textual values of dream depends on the visionary that how far he able to carry the wired experience by his own.

Our every imaginative action to the society is dream-like. We’re doing it just like the sleepy dreamer. Suppose the creation of art is the creation of a new dream. It’s unprecedented in some extent. You create this to disfigure the real shape of the reality and try to grab the blissful moment of denial and distortion, manipulation and alteration and certainly you tried to fly the height where everything is fleshy and new.


I know you or anybody could criticize me for this comment, but I wanted to repeat that pleasure of any action is “high degree cultural” and artists are born to disfigure the culture for a new one. This is the objective of textual language and be the life too.


You cannot do this by just feasting the reality. Your textual actions have to desirous mean something new and you could achieve it only by the anesthetic condition, where the body is anesthetized and the mind is active to disfigure the bodied actions of the reality.

You know I loved photography and the cinematic wheeling of life. Do you know why I loved these art forms? I loved these because they are anesthetic in nature. They have the capacity of replaced the reality by the new one that maybe parallel to the indistinct and flimsy words of the dream-reality. Dream is not horrific as we used to think. It’s the pleasure heaven where the soul freely and willingly dodged by its own to understand the real one. You needed to sedate the bodied action if you wanted to explore the concealed words hide in your dark cave of mind. This is the key objective of any artful activities.

I like cinema because:
“Cinema captures the sound of speech close up and makes us hear in their materiality, their sensuality, the breath, the gutturals, the fleshiness of the lips, a whole presence of the human muzzle (that the voice, that writing, be as fresh, supple, lubricated, delicately granular and vibrant as an animal’s muzzle), to succeed in shifting the signified a great distance and in throwing, so to speak, the anonymous body of the actor into my ear: it granulates, it crackles, it caresses, it grates, it cuts, it comes: that is bliss.”

The true objective of life is not the opposite as cinema does by its embodied actions, where the real man gets a new outlook due to the movements of cinematographer and actor. The pleasure of text depended on the pleasure of blissful changes, which is disfigured and drastic, ethylated and gigantic to destroy everything you called heritage and monumental, traditional and patrimonial, social and cultural, conservative and secured to communicate the reality.

I’m sorry to say, your dream experience is new to the extent but you failed to adjust with it, because, you used to lived the society-secured conventional life. You’re the lover of society-fence and return to it when the bizarre reality of dream pushing you to the new edge. My friend, you’re getting nervous to leave the society-fence, because it’s certain. That was the main reason for your half-dream and half-awaking confused mind game.

Dear friend, you didn’t play it very well, because, you’re feared to playing it. True self never feared to cross the fence. You’re desirous to travel by your own, but when the real moment is knocking at the door, you feel hurry to return the secured fence and forcing you to wake up to the sleep, so that you can catch the trolling burglar. What a tragedy it is!

You’re not brave to suicide my friend; if you had real courage, I said it certainty that you did not infer anything about the thief in your dream-moment. It’s clear, you’re not different to the millions who feel discomfort to live on the dual reality.

I think life is dual and binary and you have to choose one from these for your life-sake, but it might be new to makes you perfect human. Unlikely you failed to choose one and trying to live on the both. The dream and the trolling burglar are very different reality; when you were in dream you should downed you to the dream, -not to wake up to hear the siren of alarming burglar.

…: What should I do then! I’m not exit from the dream by my own will. Dream is such a bizarre reality where the real world gradually disfigured by uneven images. On the opposite, the real world always tried to enter the dream to interrupt the images. The duplicity awakes me to the burglar. How can I deny this! It’s not new that dream is always cut by the real action on its peak moment.

My dream was over on the peak moment when the dirty fool entered in the room to theft something he prefers best for his service. His noisy trolling kicked out me to the dream and I was seeing myself shouting by sitting on the bed.

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Barthes: However, I think you missed the real opportunity to be an artist and the great storyteller. I tried to say this over-and-again. You’re not the true visionary, as you tried to say and act like this from the very beginning of the conversation.

Yes, you were in dream on the moment and be waking up to the real world too. This is extremely typical and we’re used to facing it by hundreds times in our life. Real dream is different to the context. It simply drowned you to its reality and you could not escape from this. It’s like the feeling of reading any text by forgetting your own-bodied experience to create the new experience. I said it in my book that:

“The pleasure of the text is that moment when my body pursues its own ideas—for my body does not have the same ideas as I do.”

That’s the pleasure of dream, which help you to destroy the old to make something unpleasant new for the rest. You failed to cross the border my friend. You were swimming but not drowning you to the river. Swimming and drowning have lot difference my friend. You cannot infer this!

My friend, you’re just conventional like the furnished wardrobe. Pleasure and bliss are separate things. You had dreamed but fortunately abortive. Sorry to say that, you got some exotic pleasure and ambiguity by traveling the dream-moment but failed to injected you to get the blissful pleasure of dream. This is the difference between an artist and the ordinary. You have to remember this.


… artful object make its own reality to separate itself to the reality, and that’s the pleasure of text. Text is unconventional and could never be the same in reality.


I know you or anybody could criticize me for this comment, but I wanted to repeat that pleasure of any action is “high degree cultural” and artists are born to disfigure the culture for a new one. This is the objective of textual language and be the life too.

Life is not the rose garden and we do not live this for some handy-pleasure. We lived it to facing it, molded it, replaced and to changed it by the new way. The blissful moment of life is coming when we hear the uncomfortable siren to change and replace it by the new; -and we’re fighting to do that to the end.

Anyway, I lost my interest to hear the answer you gave to me in the dream. Instead of, I wanted to quote my experience before leave the café. I think it will help you to consider the question again that, “what life is and how does a reader could handle it by care.” Now listen the quote:

Text of pleasure: the text that contents, fills, grants euphoria; the text that comes from culture and does not break with it, is linked to a comfortable practice of reading.
Text of bliss: the text that imposes a state of loss, the text that discomforts (perhaps to the point of a certain boredom), unsettles the reader’s historical, cultural, psychological assumptions, the consistency of his tastes, values, memories, brings to a crisis his relation with language.”

I hope you will feel some positive to read my text at the end of this long conversation. Anyway, I enjoy it despite the boring length and repetition. Thanks to you, because you try hard to excited me by striking the real relationship crisis between the text and the reality. Oh! Yes, I forget to ask you about the thief. What happened to him? Did he catch by you?

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…: You’re right. Time’s up to leave the café. I have nothing to say anymore. Yeah! I’m trying to read your text by next, but not to sure about that I could do it anymore; and the thief, No; -I could not catch him on that moment, the sly burglar flying to the window before I catch him.

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