Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Broken Eggs on Fire

I'm in a house that is mine but feels like it should be my daughter's, Hillary's. Isaac is there, the dogs are there, a woman who is not my mother but plays the mother is there. I think the baby is there but I don't see her.

We are redecorating a book case for Lydia. Hillary is being sneaky about tissue paper patterns and scissors. I'm suddenly groggy sleepy and decide to take a nap. Hillary, comes out of the kitchen, feels the same as I do, but decides to take a shower.

The dog jumps on my face and grosses me out. There are orange pawprints all over the white carpet; it looks like powdered cheese. I go into the kitchen to see what he got into and find broken eggs on the floor.

Isaac yells from the other room, "Mom! Fire!" I run in to see flames coming up from the floor along the wall. I yell for Hillary to bring water from the dishes in the sink. I try the water from the small sink conveniently right there on the other wall. The flames are blue and when one goes out another pops up somewhere else, like the Whak a Mole game at a carnival arcade.

When I realize that someone left something burning downstairs and how groggy I was, I connect the two and know we are in HUGE danger. I yell, "Call 911! Get out! Get the dogs! Get the baby!" It is all so out of control I wake up. Broken eggs, burning house...very bad, something is very wrong somewhere.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Liquid Love Story

This is an image of Romeo and Juliette from the cover of an audio book. The song in this post names them often.

Well day-before-yesterday's dream must have been important, because last night I had a dream with the same theme. I woke at 4:00 a.m. too hot to sleep and went back to bed half hour later. When I awoke the Taylor Swift song, Love Story, was going through my head (I listen to some music, but only when I'm in the car.) When I awoke the second time, again the song was blaring in my head, though I didn't remember my dream. When I got in the car to go to the doctor, what do you think was on the radio!?

In my dream I was a student in a classroom. The other students were very ethnic looking and it was like a glee club. Singing was a way of communicating, and it was also a method of transformation from one physical world to another. In the dream I was bored or feeling less good than the other students; I closed my eyes and started humming a deep, resounous tune and began to float away.

I floated to a place where there was water. I went swimming and it was luxurious and sensual and mystical. When I got out of the water my teacher was there. He wasn't a superior, but someone I had a deep emotional connection to. We had sex that wasn't like we were lovers, but it was like sharing a beautiful gift.

I'm still strong, bathing in the waters, being whole and complete, cleansed, floating...or maybe like amniotic fluid, the water represents an environment from which I emerge, reborn. But now I'm really confused by the love song and scene, and the coincidences...or are they? Is someone thinking about me? Sending a message?

Monday, September 21, 2009

Wash me in the water

I awoke feeling like I needed to cry. There is someone who feels like they've re-entered my life. I had put space between them and I to get some perspective and protect me from the drama that is unceasingly in their life. I'm crazy over this person and when they come back into my life the craziness begins all over again. I just don't get why I feel about them the way I do. If I perceive they are disappointed or annoyed in any way I feel so crushed. Is it hormones? Am I crazy? I don't know. No one is reading this anyway, so no one could understand.

I'm shopping for a new, wait, I am not shopping for a new house but a mother figure is shopping for a new house. She's taken me and my sisters out of school for lunch. We're supposed to go back but I don't think that she will return us to school; it is not in her "plan".

I am feeling lost as I wait for her to return. I am abandoned. I am at the beach and I find security in the water. I have a feeling that speaks to me; it says "Fuck them. They don't know. I don't care. It won't hurt me." But I do care. And it does hurt. And I get into the surf.

It is rough and takes great physical effort to maintain equilibrium between the water and sky. It is hazy and I can not see a grounding point in front of or behind me. I am slightly confused and slightly scared but I am feeling strong enough to make it back to shore.

Back on shore, I am wearing yellow. My arms are bare. A girl compliments the strength in my body and says I should flex my arm. As I do so, I watch a very tan, very muscular arm bulge like a balloon, but slowly, and gracefully, and full of strength, and as the skin expands a pattern appears on the skin. It is a triangular design within a circular shape. The triangle is made of bricks and each brick has a symbol on it. It looks ancient, and the overall shapes, turns, curves and points look like Maori tattoo, and the color looks like henna, and the message looks like hieroglyphics.

And I am stunned, both dreaming and waking, by the importance of this occurrence, and that no one can see it but me. I want to know what it means. I want to understand its message and be prepared and safe and strong and useful.

There were more interesting parts in the dream that had to do with high school friends and lawyers and looking for a job. But the above posted part, especially the symbol on my arm, seems most mysterious, significant, and psychic.

And as I lie there remembering to remember the dream I am thinking about him. I am wondering what he is doing, does he know how much I love him, and how important it is to me for him to be happy and proud of me. And I want to cry because this is all making me feel crazy, because it is all on me. It is, must be, my imagination.

Does he get annoyed with me because he's really annoyed with himself? Does he love me the way I love him and he gets frustrated with that because he doesn't want it? Is he acting out? Am I imagining it? Am I imagining his staring eyes, dark smile, loud vibrations, or is it real?

Regardless, I am strong, I can flex, there is a message written under my skin that is ancient and important.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Feeling my pain is a painful feeling

The artwork is by Zlatko Vassic. He's a fan and contributor to art, artists, artwork.

I had a lot to do this morning so I hope I can remember my dream. Terry Braley is an ex-boyfriend. He tried to kill me with a gun; when it wouldn't fire he hit me over the head with it. Every once in a while the scar tissue from the blow gives me pain in my skull; last night was one of those times.

In my dream I was with Terry and we were at his parents house. Terry had used my credit card for purchasing something and upon finding out how much he charged I realized he caused me to overdraw. He just grinned, didn't care about the trouble it caused me, and told me he had no money. I knew he had gotten money from his dad. I asked his dad if he had given Terry money, explaining that Terry had overdrawn my credit card, and that I was paying for everything to support him and his daughter and that he shouldn't given Terry money, but rather would be more helpful if he'd given me the money. Terry's dad started defending Terry and saying mean things to me.

Upon waking, I thought of Terry's daughter and how she will never know, nor believe, what I went through, what her dad did, and how I felt about her. Her legacy is set in the attitudes of her "Pawpaw" and "MawMaw"...I wonder how she is and what she is doing and what she knows.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


I can't remember the dream I had, but I remember having a dream....

Love this pic and the title serendipitously goes with yesterday's post. This photo was created by Tara Lemana, who is having her first ever public showing in New Zealand, titled "Awake and Dreaming".

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Waking Dreams

When I was a kid I used to have dreams while awake. They weren't ordinary "day dreams"; they were involved and detailed and fantastic as if I was sleeping. I called them "dinks"...dream-thinks.

The picture here is of a bead made by my friend Jodie McDougall called Enchanted Dreams. It represents a lot of my daily wishes in life...waking dreams.

I dream of making beads, beautiful and expressive and unique, every day, every time I sit at the torch. I dream of knowing each type of glass intimately enough that I don't think about it and use it lovingly, knowingly, to its perfect extent.

I dream that all my beads are purchased and that I do not have an overabundance of inventory or glass. I dream of being able to travel the world to visit my bead friends and learn new techniques.

I dream that I can make jewelry with my beads and that I have all the supplies needed and organized and that I love every piece enough to let it go to someone else.

I dream that I have a website that takes care of itself.

I dream that I have a housekeeper and cook to take care of daily chores that I don't have time to do because I'm too busy being artful and dreaming.

I dream, I dream, I dream of many things. But when it comes to art and creativity, mostly I dream of freedom from logical thought, freedom from worldly bounds and criticism, I dream, I dream, I dream to be free.

Sunday, September 6, 2009


Something about skulls in a dream from which I awoke feeling dizzy and in an angry mood. Also something about having surgery. My foot was itching so badly it awakened me.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Koi Climbing Rocks

A storm is rising at the beach. I am the daughter of my ex boyfriend. He's going to launch the boat into the water. It's on the ramp, on the trailer, behind the corvette, but the corvette is nose first into the water. I ask, "Do you want me to drive the corvette out?" "Yes." It feels a set he intends to destroy something and I'm going to be held responsible.

I get into the corvette and make a u-turn out of the water and up a ramp loading into the back of a moving was also parked in the water, sideways, on the boat ramp. "How did I do?" I ask. There is no answer; he's abandoned me. I follow up the ramp and onto the beach.

My son Isaac is my brother. He's playing with friends on the rocks above me. I am looking for lost items washed ashore. I notice but only secondarily, beautiful fish peaking out of the rocks on the sides of my path. Then I look up, my ex/father is above going through found items. I look to the side and see my brother. I wonder how to get up there and notice the path and the koi, crawling between rocks, climbing to the top, they are so beautiful.

"Get the camera for me" I call to my father/ex. My brother/son races me for it and beats me there. I'm so angry. It's my camera, and I asked for it, but it is given to my brother instead. I scold my father/ex for being such a weak person who would not stand for what is right and instead spoil my brother and forsake me. I call him a coward and go to take my camera from my brother. It is out of film....

Doug is there (I have promised to marry him when we turn 80). I'm surprised. He says that he and Rachel are in the park. He warns me to stay sharp. I don't understand. He is talking about being aware of my father/ex, "Just stay sharp." It is like there is a plan Doug knows about that I do not. I think about Doug and do a little feels good enough to wake me from my dream.

I should call him today. He had surgery this week, too, and doesn't know about my ankle.

Tourists on Telephone

I'm a peace officer...everyone seems to be in my dream...on the watch for suspicious characters, vagrants, people making "deals" for drugs and sex, tourists on telephones. Yes, tourists on telephones...they can be found in booths, European style, sitting on tall wooden stools, backs leaning against bi-fold, glass fronted doors, smoking cigarettes and tapping the ashes into glass trays, like those from hotels, propped up on narrow wooden shelves, speaking foreign tongues...I know they are all innocent...just tourists missing home, sharing news on telephones.

Frog Song

My friend, Lynn, and I are at an adoption center for children. We seem to be employees/social workers there. There is a particular child that belongs with Lynn but I have to get her to connect the child with herself through a song. The child is supposed to sing the song...a 70's r & b...the child looks like a frog with pretty diamonds across the brow.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

vicci henderson

mixed media dream...beautiful

click the pic for the photo album on Art, Artists, Artwork

Waiting for the one

click the pic to link to Nathan's photo album
I broke my ankle and have had my dreams stolen by vicodin. But I've found this wonderful painting by Nathan Spoor and when I read its title I knew it was related to the Snow in Summer dream

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Pressure Washing

Must have been a fire.

I'm inside an apartment trying to get everything out before the washers come. Stuff is charred. I get interrupted by visitors; several older ladies of the Moose. A lot of clothes and glass and antiques; a lot of soot and burnt wood.

These aren't lady visitors, they ARE the cleaners. Woooooosh! Huge pressure sprayer in my kitchen so strong it removes the paint from the cupboards....hey I kinda like that look! Wow so easy if I want to refinish the furniture....please spray this dresser.

Outside I've gotten almost everything. There's a clogged hose. How did all this gross stuff get in it?! What are all those little things moving around in there...totally creepy. Wake up and clean something!

Monday, August 10, 2009

Picasso's Dream Zoya Gutina

It doesn't have to be my's an incredible dream in a necklace!
No new dreams lately. I thought after the wonderful day I had yesterday, and the spicy meal, and the sangria, and the oysters, and the beer, and the sweet tea, and the friends, and the pool, and the bloody marys, and the hangover from the night before I would certainly have something interesting to remember this morning....

Oh, I guess I just did!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Snow in Summer, Ice Skating on Sand

I'm in a house with my son. His father is next door and there are unexpected visitors. My hair is up in curlers, I am not fully dressed, the house is a mess, and the brother is here with his new wife. He's the popular brother. I watch a DVD memory of his wife and him on a huge boat. The wife swims with a killer whale, like some people swim with "trained" dolphins. It is amazing for her...and for him. Isaac! You've got to see this!

They are moving out next door. I'm relieved. I look out the window at the view of the coast from high above on my craggy mountain top. It's beginning to hail on this August day. As it turns to snow I gather my little dog in my arms to experience the outside. No shoes on my feet we watch the highway below and as the snow plow slows the passing mail truck we hitch a ride on the hood, feeling undiscovered. As the mail truck passes the snow plow and picks up speed it turns sharply into a gated drive to the left, quickly and abruptly enough for us to slide off the hood. "Hey, you can hitch a ride any time, you don't have to hide, that is what I'm here for. All you have to do is bang when you want me to stop."

We walk to the back of the mail-truck which has become a touring trolley with open sides and dollhouse benches and toys inside for kids. My little doggy is now my four year old son. He finds a little girl to play with. I sit next to a young mother with strawberry colored hair. "You are so lucky to be so rich," she says, "someday I'll have that too." "Really?" I replied, "You think I'm fortunate?! Thanks. Thanks for proving my suspicions...this is proof that you are what you think you are."

"I am a single mom. No traditional job. No income. Section 8 housing subsidy and unemployment sustain me when I'm not selling my lamp work beads. But I am happy. My son is happy. My life is happy. I appear to you to be what I think I am." But I am lonely.

I get off the bus and walk into the park. I am alone. I am thin. I am self-conscious of being unpresentable, too casual, a little to bohemian styled. I walk by a small group of young, "hip" people, noticing a man a little younger than me, who has also noticed me. I walk by several times. I love the little sundress of yellow but feel the need to continually adjust it around my breasts. "You're wearing it all wrong, " he says.

I'm shocked by his first words so slightly inappropriate and feel just as slightly shy. "Look at the binding; it's all wrong, let me fix it." We are alone. He fixes my dress. I am momentarily exposed. I say not a word in the exchange, but feel every thought. I'm scared of feeling this, he's elated. He calls someone. "I won't be back. I'm in love."

Another day. I'm in the park. I'm on my period, and again exposed and embarrassed, as much by my condition as I am with my attempts to cover it. He's so happy. He is thin, tall, curly haired and mustached, and he smiles and when he does I can hear laughter and joy. He has a friend. She points out the error of my ways. He laughs and says, "Let's just take care of that," and does. His friend is a blonde woman and she is teasing him about his giddiness, and points out that they are wearing the same clothes. "Were you channelling my closet?!" They laugh. My first words, "They look better on her. Your pants are too big."

He is not insulted. He turns around, "Doesn't my ass look better than hers?" as he pulls the black leather chino's forward to fit tightly in the rear. I laugh. He finds pins to keep them looking tight, intent on pleasing me. He disappears. His friend is still there, no longer the tall, Blondy with long hair, but now a short, voluptuous woman with rounded cupie face, and curly red hair. She lay next to me and whispers words of confidence and kisses me on the mouth; a sweet, juicy "smak!"

I know he's coming. He's looking for me. I wonder if he will find me as I take a walk outside the hotel rooms of the beachy resort. There is water and sand on the ground as if at the edge of the shore, but the ocean is not in sight. The water floats slightly above the thin layer of silty softness, creating a liquid ice rink. I test out my skills not to slip as I simply walk. He's here. He's behind me. He's watching. I can feel him. I begin to skate, gracefully, back and forth, not acknowledging but knowing, performing little loops and figure-8's. I stop at the edge of the causeway where two women are jogging. He stands next to me. I'm happy. Complete. I don't say anything. I don't have to. I look at him and I look at joy, and I'm excited and long will this last, how long can I keep my silence?

The phone rang me to reality. Wow, that was nice.