Sudden and Two-Dimensional

Everything makes sense yet is beyond reason. He once remarked to an interviewer:

The dream is pure drama. In a dream, one is always in mid-situation … I think that the dream is a lucid thought, more lucid than any one has when awake, a thought expressed in images, and that at the same time its form is always dramatic.

At his best, Ionesco has been true to his dreams. He almost never creates characters of any depth or substance, the people in his plays are sudden and two-dimensional, like the figures in a dream. And, as in a dream, the complexity is all in their immediate situation. He has put his nightmares on stage, unadulterated and with an uncanny sense of what works in that tight space framed by the proscenium arch. The result is pure nihilism. After all, what can survive when the placid façade of middle-class life splits open and the submerged fantasies come pulsing through?

A. Alvarez, Beckett, p. 14

Said about A.  Brings to mind B.



I told you I had a dream about a creature that was all legs – something like that – long, long legs, a bouquet of them, and a powerful muscular body at their centre, all terror and frantic flailing. I told you about this creature knocking me around with its limbs, beating me up, throwing me into the sand (to you I said dust) over and over, and each time I found myself with a mouthful of sand (dust), and the creature screeched ‘spit it out, you can’t have it, it’s not yours’, throwing me into a different patch of sand (dust) before repeating its scream.

You made it about writing.

What I didn’t tell you was that I read the poem you wrote likening your ex to an ostrich and yourself to a bed of sand and that I woke up this morning with the line ‘something of you still buried in me’ pounding against my eyelids.