One of the things I find fascinating about dreams is how often they are such nonsense, but sometimes they are such insightful nonsense. The nightly hiccups of our subconscious represent the absurdities of life in ways that illuminate just how absurd our waking life really is.
Last night I had a bizarre dream about Lady Gaga. (To say I had a bizarre dream about Lady Gaga who herself tries to be a living totem to the bizarre sounds redundant, I know.) She was traveling along at the front of some caravan-type contraption, escorted from behind by a diverse foursome of mixed genders.
Lady Gaga herself was subdued in sunglasses and shapeless dark clothes — no strange get-up, no hair art, no makeup. Her companions covered a small spectrum from beautiful girl next door to flamboyant gay male. I had some matter I was supposed to discuss with her, but when I approached her directly she wordlessly refused to acknowledge my presence.
I was then informed by some sort of security handler that Lady Gaga no longer interacted personally with others herself. Instead, she had selected these four people to escort her everywhere and serve as her proxy to the world. Whenever she needed or wanted to engage with anything beyond her immediate person, she would choose one of her foursome to act and speak on her behalf while she and the others hovered silently without emotion nearby.
Some explanation for this was offered to me, as the beautiful but plain female member of the entourage received some invisible indication that she was the one to come forward and hold the discussion I requested. I was told that this was Lady Gaga’s latest performance art, an experiment in human existence as simply that. No action, no interaction, no being. She had outsourced her ego to these four and entrusted them with accurately being her self and conveying her self, in the form of many selves, on her behalf. This liberated her from the burden of being Lady Gaga – a conscious, acting human — and allowed her to try and experience the transcendence of having solely a physical presence like a rock or a tree.
Like I said, bizarre.
But, maybe not. Because, like that dream I had about Beyonce and Jay-Z, as surreal as this is I would not even stop to go “huh?” if one day I read about Lady Gaga (or some other avant garde weirdo) going around with this art show/existential experiment exactly as described in my dream.