Sorry I have been so distant. The other night I was lounging around and a long missed feeling reoccured: I wanted to paint. So I painted. Man, how I have missed that. I just relaxed and painted, listened to The Black Keys for a while. The last time I listened to them while painting was at a really crazy time in my life. I would see this guy nightly, we were both 'late night owls', he showed me so many beautiful sights in town. It was really nice to have someone to show you things, thats really all that matters to me: That you show me beautiful things, tell me stories or just share something with me and you will have my heart for ever. In that time of my life I painted every night, all night. Inspiration has just been so lacking. Last night I felt so deprived of a lot of things not solely creativity. I felt really weak so I took a late night shower, a really quick shower , went outside to gaze at the 'supermoon' for a time and layed down.

I wish that you could see my room, its so calming to me. I bring a little bit of nature indoors. I have trees and flowers, beautiful rocks and just nice things that compliment the white walls and barely green ceiling which gives the light such a soothing feeling. I have two windows, I havent opened them in some time though. Anyway I layed there recollecting the past night's painting session and why all of a sudden I wanted to paint. I remembered that I was recalling a series of dreams that I've had for the past year or two, and the new addition to the series that occured this week. Ive always wanted to write about these dreams but always ended up writting about others.

There is a man who haunts some of my most beautiful dreams. Always he is in shadow form, or very normal in appereance but when he is, I cannot seem to get a glimpse of his face. Until December of last year. December 29th to be exact. (I wrote the date down, maybe that gives you an idea of my feelings toward these dreams) That dream on a December night was about me leaving him to be free, very much immitating my waking life relationships, I was about to leave when he would not let go and I saw his face! I do not know a man resembling him in my life. Anyway the dream progressed and I got to know him so much more. He was perfect. One of the things that puzzles me about these dreams is how relevant to my waking life personality, or interests they are. This man had built me a house, a dream house, in it he had a library for me. The first book he showed me to make it known how interested in me he was, (as if building me a home wasn't enough) was Benoit Mandelbrot's 'Fractals: Form, Chance and Dimension.'! I have longed for that book for the longest time just so you know the shock value to me personally. ...I dont want to bore you with matters of details. Long story short since that dream where I saw this man's face I hadn't dreamt of him for sometime. Until very recently. Looking back, he always comes in times of trouble.

In this dream I turned on a video camera and layed down in this sofa with this man sitting in a chair infront of me. With the video camera recording he proceeded to play a guitar for me. The most beautiful sounds filled my dreams that night. In this dream he said that the only way he would play was for me, or to me, that watching me was like reading music and if I wanted to relive the music I had to record the moment from which it was created. That night I did not see his face once again, he sat in the shadows of the room we were in.

Those are my dreams, aren't they something? They make me feel really happy for some reason and while remembering them often times I start to daydream, and then Imagination finds its way to me resulting in many more beautiful things. An artist's inspiration, I've always believed can come in many forms. Its becoming more apparent that an artist's muse needs not roam the reality in which they create. Happiness.