I love dreams. I’ve been blessed with amazingly creative dreams for as long as I can remember. One of my favorites was when I was swimming the backstroke down Santa Teresa Boulevard — only there was no water.
Most of my dreams are interesting and thought provoking, but sometimes I wake up stressed instead of rested. I have reoccurring anxiety dreams, you probably do, too.
Until last night my anxiety dreams were one of two variations:
Variation 1: I go to the university to take a final and either I haven’t studied or I go to the wrong lecture hall or I go too late and the final is over.
Variation 2: I am back at the preschool that I ran for 10 years and I’m working through some personal trauma with one of the teachers or there are no teachers and I’m trying to take care of all the kids by myself or there is some threat to the school and/or children that is out of my control.
Last night, for the first time, I had an artist anxiety dream. I’m not sure if this is good (maybe only “real” artists have anxiety dreams – the “real” being a discussion for a whole other blog) or bad (now I have three variations, darn!)
The dream went something like this: I have been invited to have a solo show at a gallery. I’m thrilled, of course, and I work very hard on the books, the display, and the installation. I get it all done and installed and it’s opening night. All of a sudden, before anyone can see my work, the building sprinklers go off and, as I watch in horror, my artists’ books become a ruined, soggy, mess.
Hmm.
I know where the solo show idea came from. I’ve spent the last several days applying to gallery shows. But I have no idea why I didn’t try to move, cover or otherwise protect the books.
Do you have art anxiety dreams? Feel free to post them in the comments!
~Ginger
Midnight Musings 