Dreams as an art form

Changing colors

A young man stands in a foyer of marble columns and a marble floor decorated in white squares and black squares. The columns are no more than three feet apart, and there are many of them, as far as the young man can see to his front and to his left and right.

At his two o’clock is a wide marble staircase. He steps onto the staircase.

Now the young man is in a large room. At his two o’clock is a large bed. A young woman sits in the bed, her back and shoulders against the padded headboard. The bed sheet is gathered at her waist. She is naked from the waist up. She reads a book. On the far side of the room, a painting hangs on the wall. The painting is three feet wide and two feet high. It is blue. The young woman looks up from her book. She sees the young man. The bottom left corner of the painting becomes green.

The young man walks to the bed. He says, “Do you know who I am?”

The young woman replies, “You are Lute.”

“Luke, as in the apostle?” the young man says.

The young woman answers, “No. Lute, as in the musical instrument.”

The painting steadily changes colors -- the blue pushed by the green until each color occupies half the painting, then yellow forming on the lower left corner, the yellow pushing the green.

The young man says, “Do you know where I am going?”

The young woman says, “Yes.”

The lower left corner of the painting now is orange. The young woman lifts the edge of the sheet. The corner of the painting becomes red. The young woman says, “But you will stay with me for a time.”

Woke up.

Saving Christine Bacon

There were English people, crowds of English people, and a woman named Christine Bacon.

At one point I was in a room that had a large painting on the far wall, the painting from a dream about three years ago. The painting began to change shape, all the figures in the painting becoming like a Dali painting, everything misshapen, but you can tell what the objects are.

I walked down a long, narrow hallway, the left side with paintings on the wall and recesses, the right side blank. The right side began moving toward the left side, squeezing. I ducked into a recess. The walls met, then the right side retreated.

I made my way down the hall, then ducked into a recess when the right side moved again. I did that two more times, and the last time I ducked into a recess, the recess opened behind me and a pneumatic arm from the other side of the wall pushed me through the door.

I fell into darkness, toward a swirling disc that looked like the one from The Twilight Zone. As I fell, I knew I had to save Christine Bacon and that I would write a book called “Saving Christine Bacon.”

Then there were crowds of English people again, blunt-nose cars, narrow sidewalks and streets, street lights and traffic, buildings from art deco drawings, dirigibles flying overhead.

I was in a crowd, people drinking and loud conversation, women in long white form-fitting dresses. There were other things, but I don’t remember what they were.

Woke up.