|Blue Corn Maiden Kachina doll–Wilmer Kaye|
I was visiting my friend Jenny in Arizona who’d recently renovated her home and was having a shindig to show it off.
The next painting was on a fellow party goer’s oversized shirt. It was of a landscape – sort of along the lines of the artist Poteet Victory's style. I was blown away and HAD to know where he’d found it. I followed him from room to room but I had a hell of a time getting his attention. DRAT!
The dream then shifted to Jenny, her husband John and I happily hiking up a tall mountain in the Sonoran Preserve. This is, of course, how you can tell it was a dream. Me and hiking? We’re no longer on speaking terms.
In any case, we made it to the tippy-top of the mountain. I was sprawled on the ground – sucking in air like I had to have every last damn molecule – beaming at the desert below. I made it – I climbed a mountain!!!
I had a Southwest theme going on. Must be that I miss Jenny AND warm weather.
What’s the summit surmounting portion of last night’s sleepy-time movieola represent? I suspect it may have something to do with the latest wonk-ass eye struggle. I’m three weeks into Recoveryville and seem to be stuck in a holding pattern. My vision’s no worse but it ain’t no better either. Sometimes my subconscious sends me messages, by way of the dream express, instructing me to “chill the fuck out” and “you’ve got this.”
I see Doc Jacobs today at 1:30 and will hopefully be told that I’m firmly on the road to the Land of Happy Eyes. Progress is a happening, if slow, thing. My fear? I’ll be sent upstairs, do not pass go – do NOT collect 100 smackers – to eye plastics to have my orb sewn shut.
MUST calm down and listen to my dreams!
Taking Tiger Mountain (by strategy) – Brian Eno