The Dream Narratives of Debris

Consider the so-called decorator crab. As it moves across the sea floor, it covers itself with debris, such as bits of algae and sponge, which it attaches to the small hooked hairs that cover its carapace. Most critical essays proceed in a similar manner. Bristling with snipped-off quotations, footnotes and bibliographical references, they adopt a protective coloration that allows them to pass unharmed through intellectual deep waters. Nor is this only superficial decoration: the body of the essay is often assembled from wide-ranging sources, which in their conjunction may form an idea quite different from any one of its components. The present essay is no exception to this rule. It assembles itself out of bits and pieces of Freud, Piaget, Lévi-Strauss and Baudrillard; and its examples are drawn from artists in various media: Joseph Cornell, Elizabeth Bishop, Edward Gorey and Donald Barthelme. That debris (no disrespect is intended) is assembled here precisely in order to make a point about the ways that debris is assembled – the ways that, in the first instance, material residues give rise to certain narrative arrangements, which are never so thoroughly assembled that they escape from under the sign of debris. They have now been translated into mental debris, and as a consequence partake in the kinds of associative processes that also give rise to dreams. Narratologists have expended much effort in the attempt to lay out narrative’s syntax. But the structuring principles of narrative may be more akin to those of the decorator crab than to those of the grammarian. Within the drowned world of debris, narrative and dream clasp hands.