I dreamed I was asleep in my bedroom and a loud noise woke me up. The noise came from upstairs, from the studio, and it was as if somebody were dragging an armchair. I thought that this meant someone was trying to get in from the terrace and was pushing the armchair that was against the door. I was alarmed and it seemed wise to let whoever it was know that I was awake, but to do so without his realizing I knew it was him, so that he could leave before anything worse happened.

I got up and from my bedroom door called upstairs to my cat, "What's all that noise, Gordi?" I took another step forward and at that moment I sensed with frightful horror something behind me that instead was coming out of myself and at the same time, I realized it wasn't true that I'd heard that ominous sound from upstairs, bur that I had somehow wanted to hear that threat outside and above, whereas in truth it was always beside me or in me.

This "thing" behind me filled me with enormous terror and with a sensation of heavy, tormented sleep from which I struggled to wake up completely in order to defend myself, but the mysterious creature grabbed me tightly by the back of my neck, digging in with his fingers as if trying to join those two long, thin muscles at the nape (or that I believed I had there) and with his other hand he squeezed the bridge of my nose.

All the while, he was saying: "This is so you don't wake up, I don't want you to wake up. I need you to sleep soundly so that I can do what I have to do." He didn't harm me and I felt no pain, but the terror I felt was much worse than everything else and I didn't want to go to sleep. "He" gave me a last, even stronger squeeze, and as I felt myself dropping into a deep sleep, I woke in reality, in great torment and drenched in sweat.

--Remedios Varo

EDITOR'S NOTE

This is the only one of Varo's many visionary paintings that seems to be dream-based. I've posted her sketch not the finished painting partly because I prefer it--less cluttered--and partly because the images of the painting I've found are off-color and low-resolution. Plus the drawing shows how carefully she planned her paintings; the sketch lacks a few details--what's she manipulating on the table?--but at heart it's complete.

Who is this guy? Part of herself, she's clear about that; but who? Not an anima/animus--they tend to lure and guide a dreamer forward. In contrast, he attacks her from behind, and says "I don't want you to wake up." He seems to fit Jung's definition of a Shadow, a dream-figure embodying all we disown about ourselves.

Varo knew the philosophy of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky, whose mantra is "Most of us sleepwalk through life. Wake up!" So maybe Varo's alter ego opposes this spiritual waking-up. Meaning what? Does he oppose her occultism or her art, in favor of something else she's neglecting?

--Chris Wayan

SOURCES: IMAGE: Remedios Varo ed. by Haskell & Arcq, (2023), p.58. DREAM: Varo's Letters, Dreams & Other Writings, 2018, (ninth of ten dreams), p.93-4. DATE: Margaret Carson, translator of Letters, says Varo's dreams are undated "but internal clues indicate that most were written in the final decade of her life", i.e. 1953-63. In a footnote (p.120) her friend Walter Gruen writes "I believe this dream has something to do with the painting Disturbing Presence" (1959). I agree; it illustrates not the details but the core of that nightmare.

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