This is the artwork which came to life after our dreaming projects in World Dreams Peace Bridge for children, just before and during the war in Iraq.

(The dream poems of Ilkin (from Turkey) were turned into images by artist, dreamer and friend Kotaro (from Japan) and made into editions of booklets and cards. SAO has reformatted the images and text for the web. You can view the cover and a sample page in its original printed format here.)


"Every night I tried to focus on a child image in the area and try to communicate with him/her. Try to send love and courage, try to take away his/ her fears, tell them about peace and that whatever happens there will be a future. Until then, I used to have another child every night which I tried to send positive energy, support and love. I was having dreams related to children long before then, but after that, I began to feel a kind of different relationship with them. And when the war began, I felt like all those children in my dreams for years had recently begun calling me as: 

'Where are you? You were in our dreams. Where are you now? We are still living, we need you.'

And I wrote the first poem in the minutes Iraq first began to bomb all
the children in my dreams. Later the others came with remembering the dreams one by one. ...I've written poems before in my own language, but never shared them. Now, every day, with everything I see about this war, and rereading my older dreams from my journal, I can't keep myself from writing. They flow like a waterfall. I think this outpouring of feelings came as personal therapy, and they follow one another...

Love and Peace,
Ilkin Sungu"

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TO ALL THE CHILDREN OF MY DREAMS

ILKIN'S DREAM TEXTS

8 February 2003

UNKNOWN CITY

"I am in house which looks to a city from a higher hill. The sun was
setting but the sky was still very dark blue. Maybe because of the full moon. I
am very tired and sitting on a stool. My left hand was holding my torn
jacket as I am cold and I am slowly smoking the cigarette in my right hand.
I am in the house but the door is open and I can see all the city below.
There was a slight rain but it is thundering with a loud noise. I can smell
the scent of the wet earth but there is also a smell of fire. I feel
different kinds of feelings; watching the lightning falling on the city
with rain, the houses and gardens I can see under the lightning and
listening to the soft sound of rain, thunders and a voice singing a song from
far away. Then sunddenly I begin to see the people, families, children,
elders in the houses and feel their horrors, pains, hatreds, thoughts, etc. in
my mind. I ask myself, "Where am I? This is a city full of pain as much as
it is beautiful, why did I moved here?". In a sudden a very loud sound (like
an alarm) covers all the other sounds (rain, thunders, song etc) and little
bits of fire (like stars) begins to fall on the city (like star rain). I
feel myself as frozen, I don't make any move just sit and smoke my
cigarette, watch and feel the thoughts passing from the peoples minds in the
city below."

BAGHDAD IN MY DREAMS

can I describe it? is it possible to describe?

if I say;
rain is falling on the city in flames singing a soft song
the smell of the fresh earth is filling my burning breath
and it is stilll thundering, lightning in the empty sky

for example, if I say;
in a little room, on a wooden stool
taking a smoke from my cigarette
watching the lightning falling down
the forgotten laundries hanging from the ropes in the gardens
a sound singing "your black eyes" from somewhere far away
in the pleasure of the darkness and loneliness
I am listening the silence and slavery, so far but so near, my eyes closed

and if I say;
to come here takes seconds, to go away takes endless time
you can take the seconds as living the hatreds of decades
and every breath you take is a thousand and one thoughts from yesterday
to tomorrow
there is foulness, betrayals you can't bear on the way
there are shining eyes, near the bent heads you can't look in
there are fists, cut, bleeding ,when it becomes unbearable

if I say...

and again, if I say;
every teardrop you can't let down
is a cold raindrop falling to your heart in fact
when the alarms begin to sing, when the doors are closed
yet, it is the hope which can't be locked
yet, it is love what warms you, fill your eyes with tears

and if I say;
and you can weave the seconds as weaving a lace
a lace, which can burn hands, as woven from pain and sorrow
and begin weaving every night from the beginning again

can I describe it,
can I describe Baghdad of my tormenting dreams?

I can't describe
oh, my little ones I can't describe!...


24 January 2003

SUFFERING CHILDREN

"In my dream there where lots of children covered with mud and dirt. Some were nude and some were wearing torn pants or blouses. Their hair was dirty and covering their eyes. But their eyes were huge and I could see their eyes between the dirty hairs. They were looking with despair and hunger. Everywhere was deserted, there were no plants. We were at the
backyard of a white house which was mine. Then I saw the scene from the sky. I began watching the scene as I was looking from the moon to the earth and still seeing the children very clear on the deserted world (I mean without any green or blue as the photos taken from space). Than I get lucid and begin to think that I can't and should not watch from there, I should fly to where they are and help them. I was also thinking that the house was not
mine. I tried to focus but I couln't find the exact place where they were. One minute they seem on the north of the world, another minute they seem at the east or west. I decided not to wait, looking from the space more and because I was lucid I can find them anyway. I had the fastest fly in my dreams and found myself near them. They were looking at me with hope in their huge eyes. I said; I will try to find something to eat and wear but because this was not my house, first I should look in the house. They were waiting in silence and look as if they are in pain. I entered the house. There was nothing but a calendar on the wall. The calendar was showing February, and the second weekend was circled in red. I thought it must be the time what had happened. Finding nothing I went out again. There was a pump and all I could do was to pump water on the ground. All the children began to lick the water from the ground with hunger. I tried to prevent them from doing this, thinking they may get diseases from the dirty water spilled on the ground. One of them turned her eyes to me. She told me "The worst has already happened. There is nothing you can do other than giving hope and it is also going away" (no words, she spoke with her eyes). I felt desperate. I thought if I can turn the time back, being lucid. Then I sat down and began to cry. My teardrops were dropping in the dirty water, absorbed by the ground faster than the children could lick it. I picked up a rock and threw it at the calendar on the wall which I can see from the open door of the house. It hit the red circle. I woke up with a feeling of hate for February and sorrow for all the children."

SILENCE OF THE DREAM CHILDREN

you didn't ever tell me
how many reasons there can be to light fires in a humans eyes
you only said; "the only thing you can give is hope",
"and it's already going away" speaking with your eyes.
you only showed your little naked bodies,
huge eyes, your despair, your thirst.

I couldn't see, I couldn't understand anything
from those little, fragile bodies in my dreams
other than their nakedness, loneliness
and just the pain burning in their eyes

then, the day came
and I had no need to be told anything anymore
when that undefinable pain pierced my own eyes
when my heart broke into uncountable pieces

I saw those little bodies as they are in my arms
they were so weak, so bruised as they walked their country all alone
as they passed the misty mountains naked
they were in blood, their bones can be seen
yet, so beautiful, so beautiful they were that I wanted to be a painter

you didn't tell me before, do you remember
however, silent children of my dreams, I lived all
when the cool drops of rain covered the darkness in my eyes
when my nails cut my flesh in my hands
when I tried to hide my trembling hands behind me
when my sadness turned into joy

in fact, the little ones of my dreams
to be told and loneliness lost it's meaning
when the flames of your fires touched my eyes
we were there together
we were not alone but millions

your silence get louder and louder
the silence all over the word came together
from the ones burning wth napalm in Vietnam
to ones who lost legs to landmines in Bosnia, in Afghanistan

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