i pose a question:
have you ever stared into the flames of a campfire for an hour and suddenly are struck with the thought that your inner world is often much more real than the physical outer world?
i provide an answer:
i had a dream that
a tidal wave washed away the boardwalk and most of the pedestrians on the sidewalks of a very familiar beach in delaware. wave after wave swept in and carried off various parts of the town, but inexplicably my family didn’t leave.
we stayed on the wreckage of the boardwalk until only a few people remained, watching the waves rise fantastically high in the air. soon they started to subside, and the sun began to filter in through the clouds, but something was different – the atmosphere had an itch on the back of its neck – and i couldn’t scratch it at first.
then i found myself on the dunes, the only intact part left of the beach. i looked up, and there it was. the moon, hanging low and enormous and brilliantly lucid, in full daylight. people were trickling back onto the beach now, and a boy with mundane brown hair was beside me. we marveled at the moon for a bit along with the others crowding onto the sand.
but then i saw something else – hovering above the moon – barely distinguishable at first. clouds were tumbling around and getting in the way, but after an intense scrutiny i realized it was really there, and it took my breath away.
the earth was mirrored in the sky. all of the continents i could clearly see, spread out like a map and shimmering above the moon.
and somehow this was the answer. in it laid the long-sought solution to some dazzlingly unknown but infinitely important question, and the thrill of it ran unbridled through me.
i turned to the boy beside me with the brown hair and – breathlessly – pointed out the reflection.
he saw it.
“oh cool. yeah, i wonder why it’s there.”
i couldn’t believe it at first, that he didn’t see the sublime significance that i so clearly recognized in the sky.
but it was written all over that mundane face: indifference.
and every other person on the beach became a swirl of bare limbs and cherry-cobalt-canary colored swimsuits and nothing else.
later that night (somehow a logical transition in the inexplicable timeline of dreaming), i found myself with a friend, where we were approaching the doors to a balcony where groups of adults were gazing and exclaiming at the sky.
as i pushed aside the smoke-colored double doors with my friend and stumbled onto the balcony, i could immediately see the source of wonder. the moon again, right in front of us. it absolutely swallowed our view – an all-encompassing white – stunning against a backdrop of rich indigo.
and it was so, so close.
and i mean, close. perhaps only miles away. it struck you in the face like a basketball only a couple seconds away from colliding with your nose. it was one of the most fantastic things i had ever seen and i knew – felt in the tingling across my skin – that something phenomenal or tragic or terrifying or scientific or groundbreaking or supernatural was going to happen.
“the craters look like they’re spray painted,” my friend said.
my alarm woke me up.
p.s. this wasn’t intended to be about art or a self-promo, but after i had written this post it struck me that i had just painted a moon jacket, and it’s currently up for sale! if anyone is interested in buying the jacket, head over to my instagram page, leave a comment, or reach out on my contact page. the jacket is handpainted, womens size M, and is $70 + free shipping to the US.
p.p.s. chloe if you’re reading this, i’m not holding your spray paint comment against you. if this had actually happened you would have been fantasizing an elaborate explanation about the moon with me, i’m sure. my dreams obviously need to get to know you better.