From the Dreamscape to the Notebook

Try as I may I can not escape unpleasant realities for they always pop up in my dreamworld ( which tends to be  an extremely rich, if not a disturbing place).

i have a younger sister who I love dearly, this sister has suffered from mental illness since her teenage years. Life has not been kind to my sister, she suffers the pain of her illness and tremendous self doubt. Once again she has checked herself into the hospital; as she pointed out to me , she has lived with mental illness for 27 years. Understandably she sounded desperate and overwrought, and although usually tremendously resilient , this time I had terrible fears.

So much so they entered my dreamworld.

In this dream my sister ask me to illustrate her situation, she directs a small painting: it is dark, stormy and insufferable, she is on a large terrible thorny tree, fighting against the storm and gravity. The tree is festooned with acorn caps (not an acorn -Lifeforce-  Are there 27 acorn caps ?

One for each lost year?

In this dream she asks me to include a small acorn bursting forth as a seedling . In this detail I hold optimism that my sister will be alright.

Hoping that faith is well founded.

The following are some of the sketches I made today:



Wishing my sister strength.

Until next time, take care and be well,


Inspiration from a Dream

The evening before last I had a dream in which a painting I had made features prominently . It was an image of an abstracted female nude with child, painted in gorgeous muddy mushroomy,mossy colors with hints of warm terra cotta and dull ochres. In the dream it was quite a hit. The next morning , with the memory fresh, I was determined to put it onto canvas . The following image is the result . I worked feverishly on it , utilizing unfamiliar acrylics. The muted pallete was lost in translation – I will try again in oil now that my fear of losing the image has passed.


 Dark Madonna
acrylic on canvas
16 by 20 inches

Until next time, take care,

Memory of a Night Terror

The other evening, more truthfully morning, I had one of those bone chilling nightmares that if they were not so horrifying ,would be exhilarating . I generally have vivid dreams, and I maintain a lackadaisical dream journal. But this dream,occurring  in the wee hours of Monday morning , shook me awake with a scream;shaking, I swiftly found a piece of paper to record the awful experience.

Upon awaking the next morning I was determined to record the wretched scene as a watercolor  ( a medium that seems well suited to dreamscapes, just ask Blake).

The note may seem incoherent but it is what guided me through the painting:

A woman has been killing little boys in their sleep, attempts had been made on my own life as well.

It became apparent the old crone ( a recurrent character) was the Mother and she was killing the boys.

I went to bed reciting “Father watch after me” over and over.

She entered nonetheless and I kept repeating over and over but I was silenced.

Vultures had landed all over my bed.

She was some Egyptian goddess of death, God was the father.

Night Terror

 My prayers were for naught. My belief that the Lord would watch over me was for naught.

I woke with a scream that scared the dogs.

 In my notes the vultures were specifically identified as Egyptian in style, I vividly remember their shadowy forms.

detail of vultures, Night Terror

The terror of being unable to speak or prayer was the most horrible aspect of the dream.


It is when I have dreams like this that I wish the beloved was Jungian and not  Klienian.

With this cheery post I depart.

Wishing all vivid dreams.