Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Treasure House Bazaar

In my dream

the shop was a multi-leveled arrangement, with staircases. Art was everywhere. A section held so many Buddhas my head spun. I was shopping, not working.

One counter held small beautiful pieces of local art. And there were objects wrapped in images by the masters. I bought an angular teapot with Picasso's young girl, the one with a greenish swath of color on her cheek?- on its surface.

And then they told me Jamie was there, working. She was in a loft office like at Taylor Books. We hugged and spoke, and we planned to go eat at a new place the Steeles had opened. Snacky comfort foods, and bisque-ware ceramic foods and paint at every table. Jamie was pregnant, but people would overhear us and think I was the expectant mama.

But the dream jumped time, and again and again I was in the shop. Once I was with my Executive Director and dear mentor soul, Deb, who insisted I pick a present for myself. I found a necklace with elephants, then chose a simple, white elephant figurine to paint for Baby Abigail, who is rocked to sleep now in her mother's belly, waiting for Spring to come.

Shane arrived and helped me carry my things, and cheerfully agreed to try the new restaurant. I saw my shoes were muddy, and kicked them off at the exit. Down and down and down we went on new, wooden planked stairs and landings. We were in an alley-market. Artisans were everywhere, trimming thrown pots, painting and glazing clay. We found The New Place.

No door, one just arrived.

It was bustling but with empty places enough for many more.

Every art-world friend I know was there. Jamie and Shane & I had collected Betty along the way, and we passed Paula and Anne. I remember specifically we saw KD, Amanda, Andrea, Nick. We picked a long table that with seating that was more couch than booth. I chose ceramic toast to paint, and started doodling a happy little skull.

Shane was too warm. He removed his big black coat and then he was naked above the waist. My friends and I stopped, taking in his arms the way teenage girls would drink in a movie star's body. They were rippled but lean, so strong and beautiful. They saw what I see- the perfect balance of strong/gentle in his broad shoulders and familiar arms. He walked away and we gazed, and outside I was lewd and giggly with the girls. Inside I was warm and proud and quiet... so grateful I knew those arms, the arms that hold me and a deep, ten years long knowing-love filled me.

After we made art and conversation- this was our nourishment; we never ate a thing- the dream faded slowly into waking. As I was pulled up out of sleep I remembered every Treasure Room or Treasure House dream, the visions I've has always, of discovering something new in my home or a new home. Remembered Jung had this recurring dream. Remembered the idea of building a dollhouse with Betty.

As I was nearly awake, sleep still clinging, I thought, I can't stop bleeding, such a beautiful dream. Then I woke, translated 'dreaming' for 'bleeding' and thought of the connections my witches might make between my menses and my creative mind. My uterus and a house. I thought I'd like to finally make my uterus-embroidered aprons, could sell at the new shop my friends are opening soon.

Thought of Jamie, so proud and excited/exciting about her new project. I thought of texting her at 6 am to tell her I dreamed this vivid dream, and her baby is her shop, and that I love her and am so amazed by her work and HER dreams. Then I thought better and opened the laptop to share my latest Treasure Dream. And there it is, again, and I am rich and full of color and energy from a huge bazaar of bursting, gorgeous art that is food.

1 comment:

  1. Dreams can be pretty inspiring when we pay attention. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete