Wow, I haven't been very good at posting lately, have I? I guess I haven't been doing anything much that I consider "blog worthy", or I do something cool and then don't have a chance to post until three days later, at which point the cool accomplishment seems kinda like old news. Gotta get better at that...
The other night, I had the most powerful dream, I had to share.
A little context: For the last several months I've been a little all over the map creatively. Some of this, some of that, going one direction or another only to make a sharp turn to something else. Screen printing, bookbinding, sewing, quilting, cardmaking, scrapbooking. It's kind of random, but I've been trusting the randomness, knowing that at some point the artistic space that is mine will emerge out of the chaos.
So... in this dream I'm driving with my friend Scarlett in the neighborhood where I grew up. I never felt like I belonged there; it was a very wealthy part of town, and my family was the clear exception to that rule. But on this day, we're driving around and we see this road. I'd never turned on this road before because it led to the more elite portions of the neighborhood. So wealthy, so elite that there was a sense that there was no point even driving down the road.
But this day, we decide that we should drive on this road. As a lark, if you will. So we go on this road and it turns into the hugest hill. So steep that I have fears that my friend's little Civic can't pull it and will literally fall back off of the hill. But we do make it to the top. And at the top, we're surprised to find that there aren't super-big estates and imposing gates. Instead, they're small bungalows stacked on right next to another. I remember thinking, "So THIS is the most expensive real estate in the city? THIS is what I didn't feel worthy of?"
So we drive on past the little rows of bungalows, and now instead of little houses, there's this stone wall right by the road. Inset into the stone wall are a series of little niches, each one with a carved little house scene. I thought to myself how much Liv would love seeing these little houses, and being amazed that I grew up just blocks away and never knew something like this existed. What treasure there was to be found up here, on top of the steepest hill in town.
So we keep on going, now on foot instead of by car. We go under a little stone bridge and the wall gives way to a little grassy area. There were people here, and they weren't the super elite country club set I would expect. They were normal you-and-me types, but they were all having FUN. Sitting on the grass reading, talking with friends, playing guitar, painting. Then I notice the lake. All the kids were jumping and playing in the water, splashing and having the most carefree time. Again, I'm amazed that there was this group of people and this place that I never knew about. They seemed to exist in a world beyond the rest of the city. And by virtue of the fact that I had found this group, I was somehow accepted into the group. It wasn't elite. You didn't need a pedigree or money or the right introduction, you just had to drive up the right hill.
My little journey continued past the idyllic lake scene to some sort of old book company. The company was shutting it's doors forever, and all of their leftover supplies were up for grabs. Stacks of papers, vintage items, free for the taking. Being my hoarding self, I start grabbing up what I think I need. And it's at this point that the exuberance leaves, and my back begins to hurt from the load I'm carrying and I start worrying with the details of how to get my items back to the car. Clearly, I should have just stayed at the lake.
I woke up the next morning, intellectually and emotionally drained. What a trip I had been on during the night! It was all about taking chances, self-discovery, and not getting bogged down in the details. Perhaps trusting the randomness, not being afraid to look for my own artistic space, and telling me that the place surely exists - even where I thought it not possible.