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The Real Me

So today I painted this woman in her underwear and somebody wanted her immediately and I sold her. That was pretty awesome. I also painted a squirrel. I got the inspiration for it from my dog’s Instagram (@biggestdogintheuniverse).

I also went to the gallery, did my weekly cleaning, and played with the dogs. It was a pretty day though I was under the impression of last night’s dream, probably one of the craziest dreams I’ve ever had, with some beautiful imagery in it, but crazy no less. In it I had a two-story house, and I was watching from an upstairs window as someone who has let me down in real life was putting Christmas lights up in one of the trees in my yard. The person was shrouded in darkness, wearing a hat, and handling the lights in anger, as if grudgingly fulfilling a promise. I was wearing a short white embroidered nightgown that once belonged to my mother. I only went to the window because the person was making too much noise. I was hoping they wouldn’t see me. I had no intention of going downstairs. The next day I was in my backyard eating gumbo with someone else and having fun. And then I woke up.

I felt, in the morning, that the dream was somehow bittersweet. All the intense dreams, good or bad, are things I cherish, things I’m fond of. As if they are a gift from a secret friend, a gift from a voice deep inside, from someone who is there to guide me on a deeper level, someone who navigates for me on the meandering paths of the subconscious. Perhaps it’s the real me. And perhaps I only meet her, very briefly, at night. Maybe that’s why I love being asleep.

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