"Boreas", By John William Waterhouse
(converted to black and white)
In this dream, I was walking along a deserted street just before sunset, I think, when a fierce wind began to blow. The wind was icy cold, making it hard to breath when you faced into it so I turned my back away from the wind and wrapped my arms around me in an effort to stay warm. Then almost out of no where I felt a warm inner glow light inside me and I was able to stand up straight once again and unwrap my arms. Suddenly, the wind no longer felt icy and I was able to turn into the wind. I found myself smiling, with such a sense of inner peace as I faced the wind head-on, radiating with an inner glow. And as the wind blew, my physical body began to disolve and break into tiny little pieces that scattered in many different directions with the various gusts of wind, entering into dimensions beyond the 2-D world in which my physical body had been confined, constrained … little lanterns of light born upon the winter winds.
Think this is what the dance with Death will be like for me, maybe?
12/7/2012 ...Early, early morning hours ... Been thinking a bit more about black, white and shades of grey. The latter --black, white and grey, in art as well as life-- seems to be in the forefront of my thoughts and dreams these days. Having really bad headaches lately, thus I am taking some opiate derivative for pain as a prescription medication --apparently opiates don't have the adverse side effect of thinning the blood? So maybe my thoughts and pondering are a bit swayed by the medication? But sitting here tonight, it occurs to me that perhaps 'black' is denial or outright despair while 'white' is hope and infinite possibility (light, in it's purest form) ... the shades of grey are just the difference in between. Sound plausible?
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