Everett’s Notes

Everett’s Notes explores dreams, the cosmos, and perceptual loss through images of blue comets, eternal darkness, and astronomical observation, tracing a hidden connection between childhood cosmic dreams and the multiverse.

"I have lost the ability to dream of the universe."

Before reaching adulthood, I could see in my dreams cosmic wonders that defied description—like spinning galaxies visible just by looking up, or the thrill of floating into the depths of space under the overwhelming pull of a massive planet’s unbalanced gravity. I would even dream of being pulled from one bubble universe into another, with such vividness that I could feel the dizziness lingering in my waking life.

I still remember a day from my childhood in the mountains when a blue comet streaked across the night sky. The meteor it shed fell slowly, gently, emitting a soft blue glow as it passed through the atmosphere. Then it descended toward me, passing through my body with warmth. When I awoke, I realized that it had become a part of my flesh.

“Everett’s Notes” represents my attempt to rediscover the dreams of the cosmos. I am revisiting the fantasies of my childhood—imagining beings of immense scale, existing in the vastness of space. I believe that interstellar dust might be a form of biological remnants, and that the ephemeral creatures in the night sky could reveal the possibilities of a multiverse, delicate like the meteorite that once passed through me. The cave is an eternal night, a place where encounters of the third kind might occur. I once witnessed an unidentifiable flying object descend in the wilderness; it shifted shapes in the air and moved across the night sky without making a sound. In the cave, I saw the same blue glow as the meteorite. I know that “someone” lives here.

And that comet, the one that shed the meteorite—I spent much time searching for other traces of its fall to Earth. Countless nights, I observed the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the universe’s hidden secrets. 

I am not the only one.

I believe that “I” am not alone.

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Everett’s Notes is an ongoing body of work through which I attempt to trace the loss of “the ability to dream of the universe.” The project originated from a profound sense of absence: since childhood, I was able to dream of immense rotating galaxies, of being pulled by gravity into deep space, traversing bubble-like boundaries of the cosmos. Yet as I grew older, those dreams gradually disappeared. I came to realize that what had vanished was, fundamentally, a form of perceptual capacity. Through images, I have been trying to recover that dream-state—reconstructing scenes from dreams, childhood fantasies of the cosmos, and the scientific explorations of my student years. Within the work, I have also subtly established three narrative threads: The Meteorite of the Blue Comet, The Cave Is Eternal Night, and No. 84003.

The Meteorite of the Blue Comet is an image-based investigation centered on a “cosmic event preserved in memory,” originating from an intense dream: a blue comet crossed the night sky, and fragments of its meteorite slowly descended, passing through my body—warm, silent, almost like a ritual of selection. These images are not only a return to bodily sensation and imagination, but also evidence of impact, echoes of a connection with the cosmos. Within this narrative thread, I document silently moving points of light in the night sky, unverified archives, traces of burns upon the body, and reconstructed memories of abduction that had once been erased. I believe that the meteorite still remains inside my body to this day—it is still silent, but it has never truly been still.

The Cave Is Eternal Night functions as another imagined site of close encounters of the third kind. As a place of perpetual darkness, it conceals unknown sounds and incomprehensible presences forever beyond human observation, though I imagine myself as one of the chosen individuals permitted to encounter them. No. 84003, meanwhile, presents a visual translation of my studies in planetary geology and astrophysics, ranging from amateur astronomical observation to actual samples and microscopic sections.

The title Everett’s Notes derives from the physicist Hugh Everett III, founder of the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics. Everett proposed that quantum systems evolve continuously according to the Schrödinger equation without collapse—what he described as “pure wave mechanics.” Measurement does not trigger collapse; rather, it entangles the measuring apparatus with the observed system, thereby generating multiple branching universes. In other words, every possible measurement outcome occurs “for real” in some parallel universe, though each observer can perceive only the result within their own branch. Metaphorically speaking, under Everett’s interpretation, the universe resembles an amoebic organism constantly dividing itself. This idea resonates deeply with my own experiences of dreaming: when the frequency of a dream enters into resonance with one particular branching universe, the dreamer crosses into that branch, inhabiting its story and obeying its laws. In form, the multiverse appears to me like a drifting soft-bodied organism of immeasurable scale, perceptible only from a higher-dimensional perspective.

The emotional experience of losing the “capacity for dreaming” also echoes the tragic undertones surrounding Everett himself. His daughter, Elizabeth Everett, died by suicide in 1996 after a long struggle with mental illness. In her suicide note, she wrote that she wished to “join” or “go to” another universe in order to be with her father. During the creation of this work, while existing at times within the fissure between fantasy and reality, I found myself able to empathize with forms of loneliness and silence that seem to descend from the universe itself—mute, suspended, and almost impossible to articulate.