crazy dreams. literally. dream: choosing to sleep outside on a city sidewalk instead of my apartment. waking up in the morning and gathering my blankets, two pairs of shoes, and backpack. i am carrying them as i am wandering, feeling both happier that i got to sleep outside and also, mentally ill…and i know it. vomit creeps from my mouth a few times as i am walking and people ask if i am ok. i feel shame and say yes i am fine. i wander into these hot spring pools, a spa place for the mentally ill, but only for those who are hospitalized. she wont let me sit in the pools. i leave and i am in the back yard of the place. a tree has been turned into a sculpture of a squirrel. the nature is astounding and peaceful. i keep thinking i could find a place to rest and nobody would notice. i feel homeless even though i have an apartment and this inner conflict of having both a home and feeling homeless, i distinctly remember this morning on two levels. level one: what it would be like to lose sanity. level two: how it feels in my deepest of hearts to not have a home to root to, knowing very soon i wont afford the apartment i am in, wanting out of it anyway, craving a real home. the dream continued. there is i-group (school thing) in the spa and my friend in the program says she likes to sit next to this one woman, who in real life is the mom of a friend and both were former clients of mine. in the dream this is the same woman who wrote a newspaper article about me as an artist in vegas in the nineties (in real life). suddenly i know i can sell my art and need to try again. i know i need to paint as i once did, that i must get back to art. my friend says she does not want to go dancing later (we had plans) and i don’t mind because i am totally losing my mind. dream ends. so much going on in my psyche. this is the second insanity dream i have had in one week. it’s been decades since this theme was present. i am noticing a mammoth difference between my dream persona and my waking persona. the latter is grounded and ready to move forward in life, with all i am to learn in my growing field. my dream persona is unraveling and returning to art. interesting how the two are tied together. i can only believe my soul is telling me i need to do art in order to not lose my balance. i have not painted in ages. i feel no inspiration. i don’t want to be in my studio anymore and this might be affecting my art. i remember in the dream how good it felt to feel the sky touch my head during sleep. i need more space, perhaps. i need a new home. every month is a new reason to not move. what sucks if i only have a ten day window to move at the beginning of each month, due to the rules of needing to give twenty days notice on my place. seems like every last five days of the month are busy and i am not prepared to search for a new place to live, which seems like such a big deal. people live in restricted environments all the time. i can do it too. i have to allow home to reveal itself as a calling, and not be pragmatic about it. somehow i feel it will. for now, i am safe and this home is familiar and i can get by. art. fuck. i mean, i think painting is my deepest core self and i am not listening to her right now. i am going to have to force myself back to painting. i need new paint. my creative fire is alive in tiny spurts because i have been steeping in the left brain with school which takes up so much space. i look forward to being more integrated into year two so i can make room for my right brain again, or can i? maybe that is part of the dream, a fear that i am losing who i really am in order to serve others and make a paycheck. insanity, as jung says, is a form of freedom against reality. to the logical mind, sure, it’s just another trap…but to the soul who is child-like and a dreamer, insanity might seem like a way out. insanity is not that far fetched from sanity, but those with highly acclimated ego personas might judge it as so. when you adapt easily to the pressures of society it sort of…builds a wall of mucoid plaque around your soul. or, it can. this is not so, with everybody. my teacher alex is an inspiration to me because from what i see of her, she blends the soul life and ego life together and a practical and poetic way. i think jung did too and perhaps many others. last night i was at a party where existential malaise came up in conversation and i was thinking how much i don’t relate to that as they joked about feeling it. i used to feel that but the existentialist in me is dead. i don’t feel that way anymore. the only malaise i feel is that feeling when cognitive dissonance goes away and i am left with the barrage of feelings inundating the heart from blessings to pain. it’s all about helping and making things now. i don’t feel meaninglessness. i feel if anything, too much meaning. the meaning is not dogma. if anything, i am freeing myself of dogma i probably could benefit from holding on to but my system wont allow me to hold on to anything mental as the core. not even buddha’s words. no words. my core is beyond words and beyond feelings. it’s a spiritual impetus that needs to love and make art and that is all. it’s a feeling that is beyond feeling. i cannot explain it. sometimes you wind up looking backward on your life because of one thing somebody says. that term existential malaise really stuck in my head. i used to be in duality between that and feeling my mystical blaze. now, both are gone. i don’t feel witchy or existential. i feel only….creative love. at the core, i mean. oh never mind, too much to explain and this blog is already too long for a stream…unless you like reading on and on in which case, you are a lot like me….