The dream I had was a terrible one. When I woke I felt sick inside. I lay there thinking of what my doctor said, you can change your dreams. He said if I don’t like the way the dream ended then I can write out exactly how the dream happened then write how I want the dream to end. Instead of writing in dream therapy I decided to paint the new ending.
DREAM: In the dream there were children covered in dust and embedded in the cliffs of a winding mountain road. Boys and girls dressed in peasant sack cloth, hung in vertical lines. As if this were a normal sight, cars drove past, without a thought, spitting more and more dust until they one by one became stone.
NEW: Of course I cannot live with that dream. I’m not sure how I would have written a better dream, so I painted it. In this painting you see a dry canyon washed in white. There’s a young woman of power with a white owl watching a young woman deeper in the canyon climb her way up. To assist the climb is a large hawk flying above her. He flies straight towards the sun. Continue reading “The Sun Rises on Dust and Clay”
