Subaqueus Glim
“The dream we have chosen to call instinctive are apparently the consequence of a speological descent in the deep strata of our being or alternatively of an emersion out of those depths”

This short note, in which Guido Almansi and Claude Béguin catalog instinctive dreams in their literary anthology "Theatre of Sleep", is certainly a good start for the piece I am trying to assemble in time for June 26, 2025.

If we consider eruptions to be outpourings of the planetary unconscious that alter and shape the conscious landscape, then... The lava piles surrounding this place are geologically curious, but that's not all.

When asked to write about this part of the island, the Valley of Monsters, I immediately thought of creating a group of divers — extra-sensitive divers with a cult of sinking who are always in communication. "What do you think of that wall that opens to the northwest?" Initially, there are seven or eight meters of sand. But then the rock opens up and extends to 120 meters."

At a certain depth, I would have liked for them to decide to sleep. As if, in those conditions, they could transcend the final barrier separating them from what we see and what we cannot remember. The bottom.

When I asked the production team if I could film divers sleeping underwater, they obviously said no. It was too dangerous. The divers would have had to stop with their tanks facing the surface, eyes closed, and no monitoring. It was not possible.

For this reason, I started formulating a textual geographic box in which to place a list of seven divers, both amateur and professional. It would be a hole in which one could dive and, following specific coordinates, slowly begin to sleep.

If eruptions are equivalent to the emergence of dreams from the subconscious, then the eruptions of Vulcanello are the youngest of the seven eras, dating back about 20,000 years. There! We must begin with the most recent dreams, the ones that are easier to remember.