Dreams are really interesting to me, and recently I've been turning a few of them into images. These images are entirely subjective and the descriptions below are intentionally cryptic, usually sentences taken from what I wrote down in my journal immediately after waking up. Making these is somewhat therapeutic and I enjoy the process.
The lake yawned and gaped, open and black behind me.
Taunting whispers and secrets.
Peach pink and stucco and you. And me, knowing I wasn't supposed to be there occupying that space and breathing that air.
Always positioned away from my gaze, always facing your domain. Underneath, a deep sadness labors and toils to keep you happy.
This wasn’t a dream. It was a jeer. An exploitation. Resurrecting a dormant longing and satisfying it with a falsity. I’ll have nothing of it.
I waited for a long time, expecting the entirety of the world’s wisdom to come flowing out of her mouth. I waited for her to solve all of my problems, fulfill all of my insecurities, dispel all of my fears. But she never spoke. She only stared. And I only waited.