Continuing with some of the themes touched on by
@SonofaBor in his last post...
I woke up today with the classic '70's song "Dancing in the Moonlight" in my ear. I don't know how it got there, but found it on YouTube and listened to it a few times. It's a great song, one that perfectly captures an ambiance of tranquil joy. The lyrics are simple but powerful.
We get it on most every night
And when that ol' moon gets so big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight
Everybody here is out of sight
They don't bark and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep things light
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight
Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight
Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
Go ahead and listen to the song before reading further. It's only three minutes long:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5JqPxmYhlo&list=RDg5JqPxmYhlo&start_radio=1
The story of the song's composition is shocking. The songwriter, Sherman Kelly, and his girlfriend were stuck on St. Croix in the Caribbean with no money one night.
Kelly’s girlfriend said, “It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we just stretch out on the beach?”
“So we did,” said Kelly. “And that’s all I remember very clearly.”
What happened after that was pieced together through bits of Kelly’s own memory and the recollections of other people. While sleeping on the beach, Kelly and his girlfriend were the victims of a vicious St. Croix street gang. Kelly was severely beaten by five gang members wielding baseball bats. His girlfriend was raped by the gang leader and the rest were in line. But Kelly’s girlfriend later reported that Kelly regained consciousness during the attack and fought back, making enough noise to scare off the attackers.
With Kelly drifting in and out of consciousness, the two managed to follow the lights along the shore, eventually making their way to the only St. Croix hospital.
“I woke up to the sound of my hospital roommate screaming in pain. Finally the screaming stopped and I heard two doctors talking about him. ‘That’s it, he’s gone,’ said one doctor about the other patient. ‘What about him, you think he’s gonna make it?’ And the other doctor said, ‘No, I doubt it.” I realized they were talking about me,” said Kelly.
While I was recovering, I wrote "Dancin' in the Moonlight" in which I envisioned an alternate reality, the dream of a peaceful and joyous celebration of life. It was just me imagining a better world than the one I had just experienced in St. Croix,”
This is how the unconscious functions. In the face of horrific trauma, the self is overwhelmed and reality is expelled from consciousness.
Later, as the mind attempts to heal, it replaces the unbearable trauma with the fantasy of an
alternate reality that simultaneously
inverts and
preserves the original experience. Go back and reread the lyrics.
Kelly is describing the rape and beating. Yes, it is "hidden" under the happy imagery, but the real event bleeds through with surprisingly little censorship.
My job as a psychoanalyst consists, among other things, in leading patients to see the repressed traumatic events that are not just hiding behind their impossible fantasies of beauty, love, and happiness, but are actually the material out of which those fantasies are created.
The trauma comes first. Jacques Lacan does not hesitate to take this phenomenon to its logical conclusion and affirm that the Real is an impossible-to-represent trauma, and that the various delusional small-r realities we create for ourselves are never anything but reactions to this primordial trauma, which can never be adequately symbolized, and which for that reason inevitably returns in some form.
I propose we take the argument even further. One of the themes that is regularly discussed on this site is the Gnostic belief that material reality is a false creation. I am tempted to suggest that the world of appearances which we call material reality is a collective fantasy which hides some unspeakable cosmic trauma. This world is indeed false, and it was created because Spirit (or whatever word you choose to use) needed a place to flee to for long enough to digest whatever trauma caused it to dissociate in the first place. We do not remember what occurred before birth because it was too horrible. The knowledge of what occurs after death is foreclosed to us for the same reason. Perhaps when we die we are in the position of Sherman Kelly suddenly flashing back into consciousness and witnessing his girlfriend being raped as strangers break his skull with baseball bats.
The thing about the Real is that it is...real, whereas what we call "reality" is a secondary construction. The beautiful but false fantasy does not only exist to shield us from the Real, it also exists to give us a time and space within which to symbolize the traumatic Real that it conceals. In other words, it exists to disappear one day when the work of memory is done. At the moment it is conjured into existence "from nothing", it has an expiration date. Or maybe it would be better to compare it to some kind of a puzzle. When you become strong enough to relive the trauma without dissociating, the fantasy is no longer necessary and can vanish.
In
Mulholland Drive, Lynch symbolizes this with the mysterious locked blue box that Betty finds. As she and Rita come closer to finding the key, "reality" begins to disintegrate around them.
This ontology has Kabbalistic overtones: the Divine Light that shatters the containers designed to receive it because it is too intense, resulting in a flawed, false creation that must be rectified, etc. Freud supposedly exclaimed "This is gold!" or something like that when the 5th Rebbe Schneerson (or was it the 6th) introduced him to Lurianic Kabbalah. That story comes from Schneerson himself, so it might be a complete fabrication, but it does make sense.
Language plays a crucial role in this ontology. It is what protects us from the Real. By mobilizing words and symbols, we overcome trauma. Presumably, writing
Dancing in the Moonlight helped Kelly metabolize some of the trauma he experienced that night.
CONTINUED IN NEXT POST