Dream Life

Fortunately, I have an extremely rich dream life. Last night, I dreamed I stepped into a Van Gogh painting.

It wasn't unusual at the time. I saw the painting in a museum and thought, "I'll step in here a moment." So I did.

The painting was "The Harvest." I have tried and tried to post an image of it here but apparently the poster websites have some voodoo on their images that prevents your borrowing a copy for a teeny weeny second. Anyway, if you really want to see it, (even though you surely have seen it in the past) you can go to art.com and type the harvest in the search field.

It's not my favorite Van Gogh painting. What ARE my favorites? Let's see... the church at auvers...cafe terrace at night...cherry blossoms...and prisoners exercising in the yard.

I do love Van Gogh so. He dared live life. We all know the ear story and the insanity thing. 'Hardly a life to envy,' you might think. Well, IMHO, his life was hardly ordinary and he left behind quite a legacy. My life is quite ordinary and my legacy, other than children and grandchildren who might be extraordinary, .... well, I don't have one yet, and I'll be fifty in a day or two. If I plan to make my mark on history, I'd better get going.

So, the dream. I stepped into it, kind of stepped over the frame as if it were a threshold, or is that threshhold? Two H's in one word like that? I'll have to look that up...... aw, it's only one H. ...and there I was, in the wheat field. The workers had blue mesh face masks like those worn by fencers. Blank. No facial features showing. I looked at them and remarked the same to myself, and I breathed deeply to smell the harvested wheat. No smell. "After all," I thought, "it's just a painting." The stubble beneath my feet did crunch, however, and I tried to go beyond the edges of the painting to see what lay beyond. I couldn't go. There was nothing beyond. It was as if I were walking against plate glass. "Oh," I thought, "it's the edge of the painting." So I stepped back into the museum.

Occasionally I do have these remarkable dreams. When Bill Clinton first ran for President, I dreamed we went fishing together. No, I don't know if Bill fishes or not. We all know I don't -- well, not usually, not unless some very intelligent and dynamic politican asks me....

And of course, I routinely dream that I can fly. Sometimes I just fly up into fruit trees and look down on humanity. At other times, I fly distances to see what's happening below. I don't wave my arms or hold them outward like Superman, I just --- just ... fly. Kind of go up on tiptoe and will myself up.

It's nice, having such an ordinary life, to know I can go to sleep and have extraordinary dreams.

Good night.