Morrison, in his manifesto of occult anarchy (see 188.8.131.52), calls the underground network of cities and citizens the "infranet." That term has since been coopted by the telcos to describe their top-down approach to the next-gen Internet. The corporate behemoth, yet again, absorbing and demystifying the language of the dispossessed in a bid for acceptability.
Elsewhere, the underground is dragged into the mainstream consciousness by the use of such terms as "street teams" in reference to unpaid advertising labor. Every content generator is looking for secret access into the psyches of the children (we adults being either suitably programmed already or too locked into destructive cycles to be useful consumers), and though the identity of the network has been stolen, the actual channel still exists.
Graffiti. The symbolic shorthand that doesn't rely on the wireless networks of the telcos, that can't be regulated or legislated, that will occur as long as there are revolutionary cells within the confines of the cities, as long as there are free thinkers still not yet absorbed by the state. There will always be a way to symbolize the existence of free will: by scrawling on the walls of bathroom stalls, by tagging subway cars and the billboards, by scraping the paint off phone booths and bus stands, or by plastering telephone poles with handbills.
"Bleak Zero is coming." "The revolution will not be televised." "This is your brain on drugs." "Big Brother is watching you." "The Empire never ended." There are a hundred more messages that have become part of the collective morass of our psyches. They are all calls to arms, cries for us to wake up.
In the case of the Oneiroi, graffiti is a medium of communication used by the subconscious. The patient's dreaming mind is still caged by their apprehensions and blooming psychoses; very few dreamers are free of their conscious and unconscious neuroses and, within their Oneiroi, the subconscious is the phantasmal rebel of their subverted identity.
"The doctor is in."
What am I trying to tell myself? Am I referencing the physician from the old hotel? Is it a coded reminder that I am my own healer? Or is it a warning that I have been invaded?