Sol's Dream Galleries

In Eva's dream, she prefers the view from the side, an observer not the star, while others ask the questions and make decisions. It's always her office and staff, there's always the noisy meeting, others are straining to make their points, then Eva melts to shadow and drifts unnoticed beyond the prattle of conflict, did someone make coffee? Is there an agenda? In Eva's dream she's no longer the boss, nor wants to be, not when she can hide.

In Mauricio's dream always first the early scene, the beach, the cold spray, and he's running. Then, it's later, he's helping his father with the physical therapy. He stands on one side of his bed while the therapist slowly bends the healing leg. His father smiles. No pain, he seems okay. Mauricio feels useful again, his father is improving. Sons, fathers, no stronger bond, their love lasting beyond the tall and formal corridors of time. In Mauricio's dream he hugs his father who radiates generations of hope.

In Kathleen's dream there is an oval chamber that feels like a courtroom, with guards standling stiffly at the doors. Awaiting her turn to speak on the new park project, she looks over and winks at her 'evidence' sitting nearby, some very excited neighbor kids with their folks and friends. Then, the big shot city officials file in from outside: four old, waddling ducks. Kathleen thinks, "Good, this is  easy ."

In Widgie's dream the park grass is wet and cold at 6am. The waking air is new with possibility. She looks up into tangled branches, but no squirrel in sight. Then, she sniffs down the recent visitors, finding her points to stop, scents of other critters all around. Flappy ducks, affable turtles, black birds and pigeons, sparrows and hummingbirds, very small mice skittering thru bushes, tiny lizards and insects sliding thru dirt to cooler shade. Widgie sees and smells it all, her nose is a third eye, she feels free in her dream to roam and wander over the park's low hills.

In David's dream, the city is unknown. It's dusk as he walks the strange downtown, passing shops and stores, a restaurant, then an empty storefront that sold plants and pottery. Inside, a kindly man points to an odd, potted cactus, beautiful but its name is forgotten- it seems to be the last item. David wants to buy it, but he recalls being far from home. The man then points to a shopping cart, the only other object in the store, but David has no dream voice, so he can't explain.

In Corwin's dream, he walks down steep subway steps, then there's darkness as decades of his life zoom past on fast trains, only his face in the repeating glass at different ages and old scenes, standing very still on the station in rapt attention, then every detail of Corwin's vision forgotten in a rush of redirected destination, quarreling misinformation, trust the wrong arrow, dream running too long, unsettled to daybreak's restless wake, what was it then that felt so sad, that felt so gone?