Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Dreaming It Forward

Magician, 36" x 24"
private collection, Washington, D.C.

This past Thursday I participated in a global healing event. What did I do? I slept on it.

I got the idea from Laura's blog From the Couch. She got it from

The event will recur on the 23rd/24th of each month, culminating on the night of October 23. The idea is to go to bed with the intention of dreaming of "global healing for Mother Earth with dreamers from around the world."

Here's what I dreamed on July 23rd:

I am eating a chocolate cake which is sitting on a table. I am nibbling, taking one small bite from the cake, then walking away, returning to the cake, taking another bite, walking away, returning, eating another bite, etc. The giver of the cake says to me, "San, could you leave a little for me? I'd like some too."

I then find myself teaching in a classroom. My students are young people. I am taken with how fresh they look, how eager their faces appear. They are hanging on my every word. It's bit unnerving; I feel my presentation is kind of dull--I am referring to a textbook which doesn't inspire me. I am also becoming aware that a noise from outside the classroom is drowning out my voice.

I walk down the hallway to the room where the sound is coming from. I open the door and find a bunch of old folks square dancing with their music turned up really loud. A couple come to the door. Her hair is in disarray. Both of them have their mouths open in surprise, surprise that their music could be heard from outside the door. They seem, however, happy to turn it down.

As I turn to walk back to my classroom, I have an idea for a writing assignment for my class. I will show them two pottery disks, one of them shiny new and unblemished, the other with a complicated weathered surface. I will have them write about which disk is more beautiful, and why. I feel excited. I know the students will be inspired and I can't wait to read their work.

So, now I ask for your interpretations of my dream sequence...

detail, Way of the Sea, 60" x 48"