Los Perros de mis sueño

I've just seen the dogs in my dream. I am at the coffee shop, and there is a huge line, and I am looking around trying to find a table for me. At the door, there is a lady with two cutsie fuzzy small dogs. They are barking, I can't get out the door, because the dogs and the lady are blocking it. I tried the door right next to it. Another lady with another dog. None of them seem concern that a person is trying to go through the door. Very similar to the dream. 

I was wondering why I like coming to coffee shops so much. I discover interesting people sometimes. Today, I guy is sitting making some amazing drawings. Another guy is writing poetry. The feeling that people comes to this coffee shops to do something, to create, to read...I like that energy. I always get intrigued about some of them. Like the dude at the other coffee shop. I am 100% sure he is a musician. I've never been wrong about this. Is not just his long messy hair, is the way he looks into the void when listening to his headphones,  as some one who is really enjoying what he is listening. Keep seeing him around, and even recognize his car now. Even the car he rides tells me a lot. Dirty, old bmw old model is not some one that is concern with the car he drives. Rare to find these days. 

Another reason why I like coffee shops, is the people I observe, the families with their children, the women that meet to talk about life and everyday stuff with their girlfriends. The little children always looking so excited and happy to be in a coffee shop.  

I like it because is a way to be together, without being on top of each other.  I also like that I have no control over the music, and is let to random, and sometimes there is a song or a particular piece of music that triggers something in me, like a memory, or a feeling. Or butterflies, like right now, I feel butterflies inside me. 

Esperando que termine el dia...

Finalmente me llegó el título para esta pintura: “Esperando que termine el día.” Me gusta el titulo en español, pero no se si en ingles suena igual de poetico: "Waiting for the day to end" "waiting for the night to come" .... tengo que pensar como traducirlo en ingles. 

"Esperando que termine el dia" Es precisamente lo que esta señora se sienta a hacer en esta esquina. Se sienta a esperar… a esperar que el día termine, para poder regresar al lugar que le prestan para dormir.

Esta foto la tomé ayer, y he notado que su rostro se ve más estresado, un poco más quemado por el sol. También me di cuenta de que tiene una escoba nueva y que ahora sus productos personales están detrás de ella: su jabón, sus cremas. Me da la impresión de que todos los días le piden que se levante y recoja sus cosas. Seguramente está desalojada, no tiene un hogar donde vivir, y quizá alguien le presta el piso de un negocio para pasar la noche. Pero al día siguiente tiene que recogerlo todo y salir de nuevo.

Sueños

​I am giving a power point presentation, something isn’t working but can’t remember what it was. 

I am somewhat stressed out about it. 

I am about to exit the place when I go trough one exit, I see a very large angry and aggressive dog, about to fight a small puddle doggie. I noticed the dog is on a leash, very short leash, but still can reach the dog or me. 

The small puppy isn’t scared is just playing. I decided to go through another exit, here is another dog, different type but equally large and aggressive. 

I see a lady on the other side, I asked her if she could pull the dog so I can exit. She tells me yes, but is not in a hurry to help me. 

——-

In another dream: 

I am in a laboratory. There is a skinny guy, sitting on a chair, but his head is wrapped in a pink cloth. The head looks enormous. I am told he is being “reprogrammed” I don’t know if he is a human being or an android. 

At this point I am talking to a guy who is like a scientist and he is sort of explaining how the reprogramming is being done, something about changing the chemistry in the brain. 

I can’t see the face of the guy who is talking to me. He is too tall for me to see it. Is like his head disappears in some sort of fog. 

I get a phone call from Juan. I want to immediately share everything that I am experiencing, but there is static I can’t hear anything. Whatever is going on the lab is affecting the frequency. 

I am about to leave, when I feel some sort of sadness for the guy with the head wrapped. I picked up his hand, and grabbed his finger. I think he feels it. I think he is human. I feel he is there because of no choice.

When I woke up I saw the image of a room filled with headless people, waiting to be reprogrammed. 

 

the most extraordinary journey happens every night

word by word... 

 "Every night, you perform the most mysterious act in the universe you lie down, close your eyes, and then, you vanish. Not your body, Not your breath, but YOU, the one who thinks, plans, worries, remembers, simply disappears. 

And here is what will disturb you, you have absolutely no idea where you go. Tonight, when you surrender to sleep, you'll dissolve into something so profound, so utterly beyond your daily understanding. that if you truly grasp what happens, you'd never take consciousness for granted again. But we've been conditioned to treat this daily death and resurrection as ordinary. 

How fascinating that the most extraordinary journey you'll ever take happens every night and you've been sleep walking your entire life"

Ariel Gold

Stopped by Antique Store, spotted an art piece by Ariel Gold- I was just thinking about her this morning. I had a long chat about her, with the lady at the store. She also knew Ariel. 

We shared our experiences and anecdotes, and how we were both in shock to learn about her death. It was during Covid- it made it so hard. 

It was nice to remember her though. Her husband moved to Florida, and re-married.  Makes sense, incredible it’s been 6 years already in March. Ariel! 

Photos for possible paintings- 

ojos tristes

​Será que mis ojos también son tristes? 

Los ojos de Poe

​Un sketch rápido de los ojos tristes, dulces y llenos de sabiduría de Poe