The human mind is a wonderful thing. We do not know the limits to one’s capabilities when it is conscious, and we cannot possibly imagine what goes through it while it “sleeps.” However, if we happen to remember what exactly it was that we classify as a dream, almost always the results are worth a second thought. I am a vivid dreamer and I love what my mind allows me to see when I dream.
I open my eyes to a vast landscape with a set goal in mind. I ride my horse in full gallop across a luscious field, away from the rolling hills and the setting sun. Its rays adorn everything that lays before me in soft golden hues, just the kind that I have loved ever since I was little. And ever so lightly, they touch upon a small town ahead, hidden in a grove of bushy oaks. However, in that moment I realize that I am not alone. There are other riders around me, their horses galloping toward the little town after our long journey. Through all this emerges a new subtle sensation of me not being alone on the horse. My dear friend is riding behind me in the saddle, his chest pressing against my back with the gentle sway of our galloping horse.
From a distance, I could see a steam engine rolling around the grove toward a small train station. As we ride past it, I can see women in frilly dresses and their chaperones in 19th century suits getting ready to board the train. One lady wore a blue-lavender dress with a small black hat and black gloves. Her umbrella was folded, since the sun had disappeared and there was no more use for it today. As we arrive, my memory becomes fuzzy and incoherent, much like the way the oak branches had curved…
However, aside from those awe inspiring adventures, with possibilities of taking flight or casting spells, credit must be given to those dreams that either bring a smile or a raised eyebrow. Once there was a time I was visited by a beautiful white dragon, a preferred character of mine, and once a strange blue-haired man descended from the sky to take a friend of mine with him. But nothing beats the time when I rode on the shoulders of a soldier to a settlement infested with zombies, armed with nothing but a bottle of Windex. When sprayed in the face of a zombie, it only makes them angry.
Nothing in this world could equal the impact of fighting a zombie with a spray bottle or flapping your leathery wings while soaring over a steaming factory. Being an artist, I hope to record some of this imagery one day so that others may truly see what I am talking about. I believe in my dreams, because they make me laugh, cry, or simply take my breath away. They give me inspiration. They allow me to fly.
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