The dream began with me observing a fellow wanting to make a model of a building. It began so simply: He consulted me about what kind of material he should use to create and interesting surface texture and soon our setting was transformed into an architect’s studio where three tall stunningly beautiful (Scandinavian) women were working. One of them was the wife of the architect who owned the firm and he had invented, and was producing, wonderful plastic meshes of varying degrees of rigidity and colour.
As the dream progressed, the women appeared in more and more elaborate and fantastical dresses made of his gloriously coloured meshes—layers on layers of them with incredibly beautiful structural elements. And then two tall lanky men in shiny plastic bathing suits came skipping into the studio supporting a floating structure made of more incredibly beautiful metallic mesh.
Then I woke up.
When I went back to sleep, I was back in the presence of the three tall women, but they were dressed normally, and I was telling them how profoundly impressed I was with them and their creations. And I mentioned that I made my paper dresses. They asked to see my studio, but I was reluctant to invite them because my paper creations were so modest compared to their wondrous mesh creations.
But they came. And they brought the architect who owned their firm and they were all very complimentary (which was nice) if, perhaps, a little overly generous. They said their success was all due to the mesh that the architect had invented and was producing. It was a terribly expensive machine and process they said, and they gifted me with many gorgeous pieces of mesh, telling me that with the gift I’d soon be matching their creations judging from my dresses. (Aren’t I kind to myself in my dreams, though!)
Then the two men that had been in metallic bathing suits arrived and one of them wanted to buy one of the dresses in my studio. In my dream he selected a dress unlike any that actually currently exists in my studio, and it was lovely but simple. I told him it belonged to a student whom I was mentoring and that I’d ask the student if she wanted to sell it. (I find it interesting that I created a dress in my imagination/dream but passed credit on to another.)
Then the wife of the architect asked me if I’d shown my work and I told her that I hadn’t, so she asked me why.
“Because people come to you with smiles on their faces and knives behind their backs,” I replied. And I will never forget that. I love that answer for it’s true to how I feel and why I’m content with creating but not showing my work.
I had another dream like this not too long ago: A dream in which my imagination creates magnificent costumes. If I were younger and had more disposable income, I might execute some of what I see in my dreams. I can create remarkable imagery in my dreams and I recall every detail when I wake, but I’m just too old and tired to revive my creative career. I’d rather read and garden.
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Another day, another tsunami of Covid-19 data. But yesterday I finished A Gentleman in Moscow. I loved it! An entire novel focused largely on one character in one setting—the Metropol Hotel—that held me captive throughout. Amor Towles is a fabulous storyteller and he creates, in this novel, scenes of extraordinary human kindness. It’s an uplifting novel for these anxious times.
