All is not sugar and roses at Bedlam Farm.
Maria has the longest and strangest dreams of anyone I know, and first thing in the morning, as soon as I wake up, she likes to share them with me in elaborate detail – like the one where we were having sex with disembodied body parts.
I can tell you that an artist’s dreams are not like an ordinary human’s; they are vivid, visual, often gory, colorful, and detailed.
She remembers every dream and is bent on sharing them with me.
Last night’s dream had something to do with abandoned and helpless children.
I mumbled and grumbled and tried to focus on this long dream (when I have a dream, I rarely remember it), and she was huffy and called me “SpongeJon Smarty Pants,” which I admit, left me speechless.
We have our squabbles like everybody; it’s just that they are different. I’m still trying to figure out what it means to be called “SpongeJon Smarty Pants.”
Don’t be fooled by that sweet smile. She can turn on a dime.
It’s from SpongeBob SquarePants
I too have very vivid weird dreams that I remember. Mostly involving a variety of pigs and a very tall Victorian house that seems to be in the old part of the town where I used to teach. My horse friend thinks it has to do with finding a pig head in our barn once. One day I am going to be brave, drive across the bridge past the railroad tracks and down towards the creek and see if there’s a house run by an assortment of pigs. An artists brain never stops. Lol