To Speak of oneself is to speak of nothing, like looking at that image in the mirror, you do not recognize in that image the self that senses and thinks, and you do not even see the image of yourself that others see. And the more you look the less relation that face seems to have to you. Turning your attention that way, the subject disappears. This condition was known to those whose thoughts were myth: it is the story of Narcissus and Echo.
So under my name there should be a blank. Faced with writing about myself, I turn to what the others have written about themselves. Isn't that strange? Reading their entries I see I cannot follow them. I have not met Mr. Barker and am only just arrived in his world. The cursor blinks, waiting. So I write the first paragraph and I think it says something. And I see that I have written about a story. I think that says something too. Stories are why I'm here. Why you're here too, I guess. Only through stories do we know ourselves and see ourselves as we are visible to others. Only through stories can we know that we have dreams in common.
In the introduction to Forms of Heaven the Man Himself speaks of "a strange territory that lies between the world of our imaginations and the world in which we live our daily lives." With his stories, C.B. maps that territory and marks out a path which links both worlds. His most recent novels are called "fantasies." But for such as me, they work in reverse. Through them I am led to some relation to "daily life." In them I recognize correlations. His stories are tethers to a dreamy mind.
What I feel to be truly me is unspeakable, and the rest is just facts. I cannot speak of me without seeming to claim something. But I have no baggage to claim, nothing unique to declare. I'm going through the same thing you are. What's essential in me is written in Imajica and elsewhere. Since you are reading this page, I suspect the same is true of you.
I can and do speak from myself, but only in images. I hope you like them. Cheryl introduced me to Imajica and she also brought me into "The World of Clive Barker." If you like them, thank Cheryl. If you do not, thank her for something else, she's a really good person.
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