Hyperdream is not a book about mourning. It is an act of mourning. Mourning for mother. Mourning for a friend: J.D. Mère. Ami. Mommy. My me. Morning comes and the narrator anoints her mother. This unction against death conjures another. Giving grieving to the mother whose living flesh skin is inscribed with moutheyesscarsores calling, gazing, insisting to be seen, holes to be healed. A skin of eyes. Unheimliche. The scene of the home, homme, femme, healing unto death. The gift of death from the giver of life. How does one go about mourning the present? “I’ll be this skin tomorrow” [1] The Twins burn into the night. “One dies in the end, too fast.”[2] Manhattan. May happen. Those who gave us the gift of life, the two (mommy-daddy) must always fall in time, towers collapsing into the ashes of tomorrow.
“This concern for death, this awakening that keeps vigil over death, this conscience that looks death in the face is another name for freedom.”[3] Freedom is the gift of death, the other’s sacrifice of the self, for the other, in the other. As the narrator keeps vigil over death, the death to come of her mother, she remembers 1) The Twin Towers in New York. 2) Her friend Derrida who she wishes she could telephone. 3) The bed her brother has been sleeping in that was once owned by Walter Benjamin. “You can always loose more.”[4]Leaves fall from trees to spring new life. More loss.
Benjamin’s bed, a literary inheritance her mother bought years before, a place to lie, alive. More life.
“To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.”[5]
The aura of Benjamin’s bed haunts the narrator with memories of her friend, conversations, conversions.
“Maybe I ought to convert.”[6] Her friend tells her once, promising to continue the conversation. She is haunted by never finishing this conversation, whether he was speaking to her or through her to himself. The conversion from life to death? Death to life? Christian conversion, as he speaks of in The Gift of Death? The call has been disconnected --------
But Derrida is granted a leave. Having left her once, he is given leave as a patient is given leave from the hospital of death to visit the world, this hospitality. Ghostpitality. A leave to converse, traverse the line of life and death. “And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.”[7] The narrator understands her loss is life. “We were dying of death, one goes on dying for a very long time, but since we might see each other again, life could ebb and flow, come back in go out again, I told myself, its warm flux irrigate all that was dead dying from the death of my friend, my animals, my trees my books my dreams all that was needed I told myself was to invent some superhuman strength[.]”[8]Life is always loosing. “Now and then one could re-establish the lines of communication that nourish friendship.”[9]Holding on to the haunting trace of the other established in the call, a call that continues past death, that even comes from death, beyond death, the call yet to come. “It is from the site of death as the place of my irreplaceability, that is, of my singularity, that I feel called to responsibility.” Response from death. The future’s call to the past to create the present. “I wanted to go on living on the hypothesis of leaves being granted but perhaps inside me the other side, my friend’s, truth to tell, had blazed itself a voice to which I’d never on my own have considered yielding, but which spoke to me with an authority I couldn’t not wish to yield to, supposing it was my friend’s, providing I myself remain unaware of this.”[10]
Now burning the ashes of yesterday’s tomorrow.
[1] Hélène Cixous. Hyperdream Trans. Beverly Bie Brahie. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 2009. passim.
[2] An utterance attributed to J.D. that becomes a major mediation for the narrator. passim.
[3] Jacques Derrida. The Gift of Death. Trans. David Willis. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. 15
[4] Cixous, passim.
[5] Hamlet Act III Scene 1 Lines 72-75.
[6] Cixous, 104.
[7] Matthew 28:20
[8] Cixious, 149
[9] Cixous, 146.
[10] Cixous, 159-160