Mind made-up of a dream-dump

Made reference to Louis Jorge Borges' short story in a dream post, recently. How there is intermediary space, just as his character lies proximal to the forested mantles, but within an ampitheater, in the middle of the gradins progressing outwardly. His intent is to dream a personification of his archetypal self--himself as his own son, I think--maybe in a story called the Circular Ruins...! I'm conjuring this all to suppose just how the psychic strife in night vision avails life's path, but only at the point of convalescense--say from exiting a room, across a threshold--outside of it into a bigger pallet. Somehow toward gaining our strain of objectivity from the loam of mind where in fact we become limited from imagination now arguably the colorless space of marginalized sentient greed--in dream imagery! The point here is that you are still every characterization of time & place, & the beauty of it is that that negative space looses its anthropos conjecture. You've become vibrant properties of sensory activity, say "white noise" --torpidity rather than ambivalence. So, all thru the mischief of three conversations the day before this all hit me, I felt I owed a debt of intensity to some better creative explanate moment==thought battling!!! And then after some reading & the cognitive resources having been once-jettisoned now all in memory reflection & at the ready, I got back to full effect.