A couple of nights ago I had a few drinks and set off for bed then dreamed the following. I had all these paintings on display, or here at home or whatever, and I’d met this woman, she was real old school middle aged type, very upper crust, she wore green camo type outdoor clothes, or by that I would mean, a wooly jumper, pleated skirt of the very modest type, and a green hunting type all weather coat, with glasses most likely, and non descriptor hair style, you know they type? Like the Queen wears on a day off – formless dull couldn’t care less what you think kind of style.
I met someone like that once many years ago, I was out in the landscape painting this view, and this woman strode up, (people like that stride when they walk!) She approached out of nowhere and declared boldly “Ah, Brushes!! Good to see someone with brushes” She practically shouted it out!
Ha,ha, yeah alright I thought, ok, whatever! I think she knew I was busy and left me too it, people like that are practically impossible to offend or disappoint, and off she went. So anyhow, this woman in my dream could even be based on her, all these years later.
So anyhow, there I was sleeping away having this dream, and that woman was there, this time she had this daughter or friend or niece or relation with her, she was younger, or my age at this point in time, (tho set about 30 odd yrs ago) she was a fairly big boned lass, but not unattractive, if a little nonchalant and bookish for these modern times. Her name it turned out was Henrietta, or at least she looked like a Henrietta. I often wonder if people with names like that had fathers who really wanted a boy, and just couldn’t for the life of themselves come up with a girls name that didn’t sound like a boys, but anyhow, there she was, in this situation, a girl, in a boys skin, or a girl I mean, in a boys guise, with this crazy older woman for a mentor.
So the older woman proudly introduces me to her, because she regards me as this rare admirable figure, Henrietta is into philosophy, and history, stuff like that, but she is uninspired by the modern male, who is obviously reckless and retarded. My job is to simply “fill the gap” I suppose, so I set about trying to impress the young potential nymph with my paintings and stories and such, but all simply results in her offering me further reading tips, or other merely cognisant similarities. In the end I started writing poetry, it was the most peculiar and amazing stuff, I wish I could write down what I had in mind in the dream, cos I’d be a millionaire in no time – the poems were on a trajectory where each one Henrietta understood led to another and another, always far better than the last, these poems were just amazing, the cured all ills, blew away all academia and replaced it with pure spirit and clear headed understanding. Henrietta became the most powerful enlightened sexually and intellectually whole person I ever saw, as did I, overall, this was a pretty good dream! My paintings got better too! 🙂