A rememberance from spring

I wrote this down in April apparently, after Civ class one day:

I had a beautiful dream today in class. We were talking about why Kublai Khan would bother to entertain Marco Polo and his suggestion that the emperor convert to Christianity. The text gave us the impression that there were only public and political obstacles standing in the way of Khan submitting himself to the Nazarite, that underneath he knew that Jesus and his tripartite religion was the True Way. All this is obviously total crap. I dreamed that the Great Khan was a magnificent melange of all the regions his grandfathers overran. He was a gorgeous collage of Turkey and India and China and Mongolia and Jordan. He was this polygendered, polysexual celestial benevolent leader, who knew that his position grew out of chance and not God. He forgot no one. And Marco Polo was a pretty boy he kept around and trotted out at parties because he said such hilariously outrageous things. And the Khan would make Marco sit at his feet (when of course he didn't send him out on grand but ultimately meaningless expeditions) and he would stroke the little Venetians hair and smile down on him. Marco would talk about Christianity and the Khan would nod and indulge him, saying, "Of course, it sounds lovely, send me your priests to tell me more." And the priests would come and tell the fantastic stories of the Bible and everyone in the court would be delighted. And Kublai Khan would be pleased at watching his wives and husbands smile and giggle. And they would all talk late into the night about the panopticon and performativity and identity and promise each other walks in the gardens in their old age.

Mmmm, civ class. I suppose when I look back, that was about undermining a certain narrative of power, but also kind of realize it justifies and exoticizes another kind of power.

Lately my dreams have been taking place in a hybrid of all the underground train stations I have passed through in my life. They all have deep, vast lakes in them as well, which I inevitably end up falling into or swimming in or floating on top of. I wonder what that's about. I've also been walking a lot of places in Hyde Park without shoes on. It's a totally dangerous-cool-exciting feeling. I guess it says "I live here, I own this place, and no one can tell me what to do."