Sometimes I know I'm dreaming, sometimes I don't.
In this case (last night), I did not. And I remained highly analytical of what was happening throughout....realizing this was the most amazing thing
that ever happened to me (or so I thought).
The details are more compelling from the perspective I had at the time that it was real. So imagine that as you read...
It started rather uneventfully with a little discovery. I found a large canvas I had used for painting in college. It was special (I suppose) because
it was the only one I had, so I painted on it, over and over, layer after layer, scene after scene. It's been lost or tossed for years now.
But there it was, hanging on a wall in a little non-descript shop. I was overjoyed. But the remaining scene was a bit foreign to my memory. Some
over-sized cubist rendention of trees. At least that's what it was up close. A couple blocked out trees. Further back though you could see the whole
forest. Damn, this thing had perspective. I was ever this good?
Playing then a bit with the perspective I moved in and out, alternating the view from forest to trees...admiring the depth. I did this a few times
when suddenly the range broadened, I could go deeper than than the trees. I think I was flying actually. Suddenly seeing inside the painting.
I zoomed in on the layer of paint below the trees. Another scene I recalled painting years ago. Two people kissing. Not the best work I've ever seen,
but the amazing thing was the ability to see layers in layers. Moving in I saw more, going deeper and deeper. Even past the all black layers I'd
sometimes paint in a rage starting over.
Until I popped out the other side. I had travelled countless layers actually into the painting. But it wasn't a painting at all. It was like being in
an overstuffed antique shop (something I love). And the pieces were amazing. Items I'd seen or owned years ago (I now own nothing in my minimalist
existence). Classic Cola dispensers, gitchy bric-a-brac... not exactly mind blowing, but it was amazing to me. These things were in my painting! And I
could travel back and forth!
First thought...I've got to take this stuff out of here. Take it back with me. Then I noticed a unique wind chime some ways off down a corridor of
antiques. It beckoned me, and on coming upon it I realized it was one an ex of mine from college had made me. That fact she never made any wind chimes
didn't register. It was still one she made. Very Indian and dreamcatcherish. I noticed more....hundreds actually. It was like I thought of windchimes
and they appeared in my own little antique shop in my own little painting.
Keep in mind none of this was disconnected. I was aware of how I got there and where I was and what it meant. I could have anything I wanted by
thinking of it! Or could I?
I wanted to see the wind chime I had made her next (which I never actually did), and poof it appeared around the corner. Big smile. I wonder if I
could make people appear? And as I looked to my left I realized there were dozens of people sitting in a small coffee shop off my antique store...all
looking at me. Okay, now I was scared. Realizing I had just made people and they were watching me I froze, and kind of yelped a little "yea" as if
to say "Yippee, I made people, please don't kill me." But they were amazingly compliant. They said "yea" back. Because I wanted them to.
"So I can have you guys do anything?"
A particularly unattractive women sipping coffee in a booth replied "Anything... We're just happy you're here. We don't exist unless you're
I should explain why the people were a bit scary, as each was a bit "off" in their own way. One eyebrow, overweight, a mouth that wouldn't quite
close. Initially I wondered if I could make attractive people, but on her reply I felt a sense of duty to these people.
But I still had the sense I could see anywhere, any thing, any point in time. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed.
For some reason I said "Show me Shadowbrook" which was my first college apartment, though I was actually thinking of "Dove Circle" which was my
second...but they understood my intent and started moving the diner booths off into the darkness and pulling out my old furniture from Dove Circle. It
was like watching a drama troop in action. They didn't become the people from my past, but slipped on bad wardrobes and acted out a scene I hadn't
even thought of in 15 years as overacted charicatures of people I once knew. Reducing people to traits as it were.
Before they even started the "scene" (which I believe was going to be my roomates playing Axis & Allies) I was already thinking of what more
exciting things I could do. I had hours, days, weeks of time travel and experiences to try in mind, but remembered an obligation back outside the
painting. I started worrying how much time passed outside the painting while time passed inside it.
"Can we do this later? I have something to do."
The unattractive lady frowned "I think you need this now. You're wondering how much time you'll lose? You'll lose it all if you leave and can
never get back."
"I can get back...through the painting."
She looked really sad and quite disappointed as I left, immediately waking up and realizing what I'd done...
I never will get back.
I guess if I had to analyze it, it's classic fear of death and aging, loss of youth, and a bit of a desire to change the past. Also, some guilt over
how we see people in our head versus how they really are.
[Edited on 1-6-2004 by RANT]