Bisu is a Sardinian word meaning “dream.”
And “dream” is a word-world: you need a map to avoid getting lost in the multitude of its meanings and nuances.
To simplify (a lot), there are the dreams we have while sleeping and those we have with our eyes open. The latter hold us spellbound, rooted to the spot, our eyes fixed on something beyond the visible. “Their head is in the clouds!” people often say of someone who is distracted—someone projected onto another plane of reality who, in the meantime, can’t find their house keys.
And while the door remains locked and the keys are God-knows-where, epic battles between dragons play out in those clouds; solutions to unsolved mathematical problems are found; and a memory—one buried so deep in the abyss it had been forgotten—surfaces to change the course of the day.
We see ourselves from above—a bird’s-eye view—in a future not too distant or in an alternative present: as doctors or astronauts, as inventors; atop a mountain or in the middle of the sea; talking with a friend against an endless sunset; immersed in the science fiction of our own lives.
In daydreams, fragments of the self and of our relationship with the world come to light—fragments that would otherwise remain hidden. In that state of apparent disconnection from reality, we connect to something deeper, something closer to our core.
When we finally find the courage to speak of these flights of fancy—even if their meaning still seems obscure or trivial to us—someone might say, “It’s just daydreaming!” Yet someone else might feel that dream resonate powerfully because it mirrors their own, and say: “Wait. That dream is beautiful. I’ve had it too. It’s not silly, is it? We have to grab hold of it and bring it down to earth; we have to make it real.”
The dreams we have at night remain encapsulated in the depths of our own being. If we choose to pursue them, those dreams dreamt with eyes wide open bounce back down from the clouds like a basketball. And at that point, you cannot go it alone: you have to play the ball, form a team—a community capable of bringing that dream to life, whether big or small.
Bisu TV begins right here: by observing these tears in the fabric of everyday reality, and by practicing how to look through them—without shame—as part of constructing both the self and the “we.”
How, in concrete terms, will we manage to grasp these dreams? Will Bisu TV’s antenna be able to pick them up and broadcast them back out?
The story begins in the next post. Enjoy the journey.