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The Sleep Whose Dreams Are Life

by Aleph Eris

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dkheinz This may be the most under rated album of the late 2010's. I love every song on this masterpiece. Favorite track: Twilight of the Idols.
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Excarnation 03:34
For all of the things I’ve consumed I hope my body is consumed too. For all my life I’ve been confused, I know my body is something I’ll lose. I don’t think I’ll keep this “I” but maybe something will survive. Maybe the passage of Time is a memory and we’ve already died. We’re shadows: play things of the skies, and Reality is a feeble disguise. Maybe life seems something crass, humanity is shattered glass. A floating little eternity has made its way inside of me. Out of body out of mind, out of Space and out of Time. Out of our minds and out of control, looking for stars; too late, they’re all black holes.
The Sea 01:57
Why didn’t you tell me before I came that you weren’t still waiting around? Last time I saw you you came and then you went down. We read Bataille, we got high, got out of our clothes, your husband didn’t know. You read me words I wrote you when we were sixteen, I meant everything that I still mean. After we made love you fucked me, my friends say you’ve been pretty drunk and slutty. You only call me when you’re too drunk to remember, we’ve said no sober words since December.
Terrestrial 02:57
There’s nothing left for me to see except the road in front of me and to my right there’s just a light that’s been following me, to the left a place to rest that looks comforting. I’ve been wasting time until the end wasted again with all my friends, and we’re just laughing thinking about how life could have been but if we weren’t broke we would never mend. The shore’s too close so if I drowned you’d know that it was my intent, and for all the lies I told I still need to repent. So I’ll keep moving but one day I know I’ll meet the end. When you found yourself, you found you were lost, turned your back on roads you couldn’t cross. All the love you felt you’ve locked up inside in hopes it wouldn’t die. Well every inch I’ve seen and every inch I haven’t seen is now a part of me and I believe that everything is happening more than just spontaneously. I can’t swim and I can’t fly, terrestrially I will reside, I can’t believe I ever thought that I’d never get high. When I saw god and aliens I knew it was projected from inside. But I don’t believe objectively, I don’t believe in anything. Since the start my senses are successfully deceiving me. If the world is really here it’s nothing like we perceive.
Think of a place where thoughts destroy themselves and displace your thoughts there. You’re a sentient being, you sense more than you perceive. We’re two human beings being human, all too human. Think of space as a projection of your mind, don’t believe in colour, and I don’t believe in Time. And I don’t trust my elected officials, I’m more interested in Atlantis and who built the pyramids; volcanoes and magic, and Betelgeuse’s red tint. And if the universe is expanding, am I expanding too?
Don’t neglect the part of yourself that craves primordial ways. Don’t forget that words are inept ‘cause words are just a way of alluding to what you can’t say; like if I only said to put one foot in front of the other you’d have no idea what walking was about. Or if I said the impalpable immensity of infinity is in everything you’d have no idea what I was talking about. All your senses are the same, sound is just an oscillation of pressure, and colour’s light striking your eyes. And don’t forget, don’t be scared, you’ve already died. You’re all the thoughts you can’t think and underneath it all you’re everything.
Celestial 02:30
It’s the strangest thing to find the worlds accessed by the mind. This is the strangest kind of essentially moribund ride. We have the strangest sense of Time to regard it as a line. You are what what you eat eats too and your body’s a fleshy galactic transmitter. Hey to all my future best friends that I haven’t met, it’s fucking strange that some time will be the last time that I see you or you see me whoever you may be. I don’t know if something’s looking out for me but the things I’ve seen and the falls I’ve had without breaking anything have made me reevaluate the scheme of this pseudo-reality that my mind superimposes over everything.
Synecdoche 03:59
Birds sound like screaming children and I swear the rocks can talk. The trees are an attentive audience with their hands to the sky. They don’t care about the clocks, they were seeds and now they’re not. We’re all seeds and one day we will not be. My liver hurts I should be more like the trees, just drink from the earth and let myself be. Synecdoche, my hand felled no city. Take the universe as a hologram then what’s ugly and what’s pretty are facets of a crystalline cosmic megalith, there are windows towards everything in anything you’re with. Synecdoche. I thought I was me, I never would have believed.
Elohim 02:32
Why speak of the universe when I can’t even define “I”? Maybe I’ll try getting grounded, spend time looking into my own eyes. Maybe there’s something interacting and I’ve just been a little blind. Maybe there are locks unlatching in the recesses of my mind. I’m often scared of alien abduction, but nothing ever shows up when I’m not afraid to ask. So what were those beings of light and energy operating on me? Elohim, call it what you will, I was the universe and we all are still. El Shaddai, should I laugh or should I cry? It seems that matter’s just a detour I don’t need my eyes. But I’m so impressed with these sensory attachments, and I’m so attached to my sensory impressions…
Dia Gnosis 03:07
The moon is a fortune teller, it was once a part of the Earth. The planet’s a crystallized metaphor, something beautiful and warm but just dirt. The sun is a solar disco, and we’re all just bling on some sweaty teenagers. The tongue is my favourite muscle, and words have the most peculiar flavors. I prefer darkness to light from filaments, I prefer water from clouds or from streams. My greatest fears have appeared in waking life, and my greatest loves came to me in my dreams. Time is a subjective illusion based in solar relativity. The past is a montage of what’s gone, and your name’s not your identity.
A Pendulum 04:06
We can only circumlocute, we’ll never circumcise our tongues, before “one” what do you count? God is a pendulum between understanding and wisdom, you can’t hold water in a vessel that’s shattered. God is a pendulum between unattainability and everything. What do you mean if plants could speak? Plants can speak! What do you mean if we were astronauts? We’re astronauts! On our Spaceship Earth, our womb and our hearse. Life’s a wound, it’s pretty and it hurts, and we’re always capable of hurting ourselves and everyone else. And I’m trying to foster a light but I’m always smoking myself out, cutting my hands on glass I childishly broke soaking up flooded toilet water.
N, N-DMT 02:13
I lived longer than life in a blink of an eye, wanted to live but accepted that I had died. My body was gone, but I was still there immersed in the colours and shapes that are everywhere that I can’t fathom. I am not what I am and there’s no “me” in me, I’m peculiar shaped and nothing that I can see. I came back from my mind from which I had stemmed the trees looked like trees but I knew what was under them is something I can’t fathom.
Where was I when I thought I had died? Because evidently I’m still here. Maybe I won’t be afraid now that I’ve tasted what’s coming my way.


“You will completely forget who you are, what you are, and what you are doing. A similar phenomenon sometimes happens when one is half awake in the morning, and one cannot think what town one is living in. The similarity of these two things is rather significant. It suggests that what is really happening is that you are waking up from the sleep which men call waking, the sleep whose dreams are life.” FRATER PERDURABO and SOROR VIRAKAM, Liber ABA


released November 11, 2016

Connor Smith – guitar bass bells words
Maxwell Citron – space noises, singing bowl
Mike Kinsella – drums
Hans – guitar pedals
Turok - howls

Produced/recorded by Neil Strauch over a few days in May 2015 at Mount Chicago
Mastered by Carl Saff
Artwork by Molly Harris

For Dave, Joel, Bonnie, Eugenio, and Adam Winter Jr,
Who woke in February, May, August, October, and December 2015



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