i have been having some really crazy dreams recently.
And i’ve been remembering them. here’s a list of what my head has been coming up with while i try to rest:
i was waitressing and couldn’t even keep up reMotely with one table, my ex-husband was in jail (i emailed him; he’s fine), i was holding runny poop in my hand, and the last one:
i was explaining to myself that i am still an artist, and i could just do photography and journaling (i.e. collage and writing and doodling), and that would make me a real artist. i’ve been ignoring those thoughts in the back of my head that tells me i’m losing my favorite part of myself, so i guess my dream head decided to reassure my waking head.
so now i’m dreaming up ways to foster that and create a room in the basement that is all about photography and collage. because really, who said an artist has to have a paintbrush in her hand. right? right.