Sol's Dream Galleries

In Kayla's dream there is a room where she is sitting and thinking, talking in her thoughts to herself. They don't know me, and they don't own me, she repeats with an inner voice both unsteady and worrying. Her mom sits silently in the next room, there is low music coming from somewhere but Kayla is too upset to hear anything, as the sun races in a hurry to end the day. Kayla sits within her moment of dream, too alone.

In Angela's dream, there is a strange hotel corridor, and the low rabble of tense, unfamiliar voices behind some doors. Subdued light beams down from ceiling fixtures, and certainly Angela must find something, yet no one has said what. She looks around for anything that is valuable. Only random particles of dust float by in slow suspension. Angela ponders the puzzling, irrelevant ambience, tries to re-focus, but the lingering dream won't leave her.   

In Andy's dream the sidewalks are white and black squares, as people become figures than back to people in clever turns of metered nonsense.  Never King but often a pawn sacrificed saving the indifferent Queen from harm of encroachment or mad entrapment. He  feels small and vulnerable in his own dream, even before the tiny beast he never sees but knows by its secrecy, distant but nearby, quietly vibrating. Long hours yet before veils are lifted, universes by standard dream time.  So, he strays thru more low-key danger before the impersonal alarm awakens.  

Dreams either last, or soon slip away. In Amber's dream, she hears shouting outside, steps out to her porch and sees a crowd of people on her lawn, all looking up with excitement. Overhead, a massive, light-blue hummingbird, big as a house, hovering above the street. Maybe five hundred feet up, the wind from the rapidly vibrating wings comes down like the force of giant fans, while Amber squints to focus her thoughts. Then, in an instant she sees the gigantic hummingbird turn into an old, three-story Craftsman mansion with porches and balconies, as it slowly recedes into folds of sky, shrinking smaller as it rises higher. In her dream, Amber thinks, well, at least a house makes more sense. She can understand it, but no matter, as this quirky dream she won't recall at all.  

In Ranna's dream she stands on a small pier with others as they watch the sun descending into the water. The air seems new and hopeful, as if much good for all is very near. Ranna stands straightly, almost at attention, but her eyes remain closed. Then, someone offhandedly says, "Too bad this is the last one." Nobody else speaks to disagree, Ranna tries to talk now but cannot. She feels alarmed and confused- but, why is everyone so calm?

In Hassan's dream, he walks somewhere unknown, but he has no concern. He is as surprised as everyone that the celestial bodies have somehow changed places, but all were calm about it, as he also was. Yet, it seemed unreal. The giant Saturn was smaller, closer, Hassan never knew it could seem so non-threatening, so near. In Hassan's dream the cosmos rolls out a new math, and different paths and orbits than we've known for anything moving, which is everything that ever was, and remains in the safe spaces between worlds and imaginings. But, the old moon is clearly displeased, and pensive in the background.

In Olan's dream he is ten again, standing in a sloping field of white poppies, and someone very near is quietly crying. Olan realizes that he is the sad one, they want him to leave soon, a boarding school two towns away, not far, they say. But, Olan wants to hide in the dream forever, then they'll forget their plans, then they'll leave him alone. In Olan's dream, the sun over him burns too warm, but the poppies couldn't be happier.

In Weston's dream, the sea lion will lead and he'll then follow, relieved he won't need to know where, or care about his safety, Weston's guide is trustworthy. There is a chambered bubbling rumble all about him as he floats along with the determined sea lion, together they form odd, underwater shadows that follow them along the rushing currents. In Weston's dream there is only cool sensation, slow-motion, no thought of destination.

The multi-level house is vast and empty in Laura's dream. She feels overwhelmed by all she must do to move in, and there is something working against her. The giant moving van outside is still full with everything she has, but there's no progress made. Whenever Laura brings in a box, or chair, or lamp, it disappears. The moving men just stand aside and stare, Laura doesn't know why they aren't helping. There is a time factor. The truck will be leaving soon, and Laura cannot work fast enough as the mood turns mean, mocking her with background laughter and jeering ridicule. In her dream, Laura feels frantic now, wishing she had never moved at all.

In Patrick's dream, he walks down the center of an empty highway that passes thru an unknown forest leading to high desert. Still early in dreamtime, unconcerned, he has no hat or water. Patrick thinks only of the coldest air, the blackest desert night bejeweled alive with a radiant canopy of galaxies upon the unapologetic silence of space. In Patrick's dream daylight is insignificant, like the center divider he walks beside, nothing at all to separate now, with a sky still full with many hours before his destination.

In Jan's dream the same jungle bridge appears, and there is a longing to cross, peril ignored, before the opportunity is lost. Jan knows she couldn't find the bridge, the area unknown. She must go forward now or never again remember the path back home. Cross now or never cross, leave now or stay behind. In Jan's dream she can't decide, the last and stillest moments before dawn.

In Elena's dream, at the far end of a long corridor, she is again in the hospital room, but it's all backwards. Now, her mother sits in the  chair, worried, while Elena lays on the bed, tubes in both arms. "No, this is all wrong", she tries to say, yet she cannot speak or move. But, feeling calm nonetheless, her paralysis isn't concerning-- Elena knows the scene from before. Different this time, she isn't afraid of the empty silence. In her dream, Elena trades places with her dying mom, a few imagined moments before the night nurses come.

In Katjiana's dream, the bombs explode the air in booming bursts of terrifying, soulless horror. No one can hear over the constant roar, the planes high overhead and the sky pocked with heavy fire, no one ever wins any war, only lucky losers who tally their dead and feign victory with shouts and cheering, Katjiana can see their cloudy faces jeering and drunk with lies. In her dream she despises the wind across her face, dirty with hate, and then she cannot awaken because it's not  a dream, Katjiana realizes again and again with every deafening blast.

In Carol's dream she walks for too long down a driveway, where a mailbox awaits her key. Inside, one letter, from her father who has been in heaven the past decade. She notes the hand-written address, cancelled four-cent Lincoln stamp, blue. The half-speed pace of Carol's dream continues as she turns the envelope over to the back. There, a red heart seal pins down the triangle point. Her father was a man of few words who traveled on his job. In Carol's dream, she only knows the letter she cannot open would answer all her questions. 

In Carmen's dream, he arrives to what he senses is his last day in Creation, the crisp and cold new sky invites his expected ascent. Carmen feels neither fear nor pain. He always knew the day would inevitably arrive. His internal gaze softens into the deep, friendly expanse of blue and cloud. Feeling only curious acceptance, Carmen zooms thru certain scenes from his past, the backlight of sun has never been so clear, last illumination of this worldly dimension, a calm understanding of his mortal departure, a preview of sorts, free of dread or stress, only the full nothingness, then vanish without a trace. In his dream, Carmen soars up thru the vastness of time and space.

The enchanted hamlet cannot be found on a map, yet its place may be divined by earnest purpose. Deep within an unnamed forest, lost among secret paths of hidden coves and valleys, the village lies beyond a hallowed vortex of ancient portals, beneath a forgotten corner  of cloudless sky. You've been there before but cannot recall it, unless a certain dream directs your path from birth, the hamlet cannot be found by accident or random longing. The uniquely magical village of your soul is where you must return, but not a moment too soon, and only when your wandering ends in a glorious final light, thru the enduring wilderness of existence.

Returning after a year, the single scene dream was by now most familiar to Cole.  Open expanse, broad daylight sky, seraphim entity shrouded under cloud fabric and cold air, rising and spreading across all memory of himself before he was someone he ever knew. Cole stares into the illuminated cloud, and sees his first face, the one that remains hidden from his conscious recollection. In Cole's repeating dream, no answers offered, no questions asked, only sky slowly filling.   

Dreams within dreams, realms of reality in between- who can be very certain about anything? Were you dreaming yesterday, waiting for the light to change? Or, are you dreaming now, somehow driving while you sleep? Because, all's possible in dream, all physics suspended as needed, all rules duly upended.  Even the air itself questions you, drawing in breath cool to warm, nothing is the same as before. You think you're lost between the seams where no one sees. But, your soul's GPS still tracks by satellite, there's no escaping this deal now, no need to.  Remember that you've done nothing wrong. So, you can start up again in the next dream, next realm, next drive to some cloudless nowhere that only vanishes anyway upon arrival- is this quaint idea of consciousness only then a parade of moments? Is there, after all, no last answer that explains the first question? No resolution to this worldly trance of wakeful embrace? Nothing? No trace of a solution anyplace? So then c...

In Manuel's dream, four musicians walk the cobblestone streets in his little town, a colorful serenade for the grey afternoon, guitar, banjo, trumpet, and accodian, they sing to all the townsfolk who come out to their porches to listen intently. Manuel is a little boy at the upstairs window, watching the musicians perform, wanting to go downstairs but he cannot. In Manuel's dream he etches secret words thru his breath on the glass, pretending that the strolling quartet can see them, but then he only waves, knowing they cannot.  

In Donny's dream, the same long scene manifests, 1800's London, the night biting cold, he's the town drunk, thrown out again by his disgusted wife, then roams the streets and alleys in his overcoat and hat, the dream is the same each time, the paths, the shadows with faces, the stinging shame he feels unable to return home until daybreak. In Donny's dream he feels everyone's scornful disappointment, and his own unexplainable gloom and dread.