Jacob Lawrence, Dreams No. 1 (1965)
September 22, 2002:
Directed dream. Waco Street, San Diego. The park, looking west. Luminous, luminous,
marvelous blues and greens, lit from within. Crisp detail like ultra-high-res digital
video. You're aware that you're dreaming. "My goodness! This is a
beautiful dream!" Ability to direct the point of view, panning like a camera;
later to comment on details that are wrong. There are palm trees -- there are no palm
trees in that park. The distance to the ocean is foreshortened. It becomes tropical.
Pan east, it's clear the houses are too large, one is perhaps a hotel, there
are people climbing a fire escape. More like La Jolla than Clairemont. You're losing
control of the dream.
Ka-whooom! Early a.m., Sunday morning. Frankenstein is playing U2. The bass shakes a lamp
on the writing desk. Time to get up.
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© 2002-2013 Mark Phillips.
All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.