If a painting was a dream you might be able to interpret it as if it was a message from the unconscious. I am not a writer but a painter – but few people speak paint – so I will try and translate, although this is a bit like asking a dancer to do maths ….
It is night. Dark. so I am really probably asleep. There is a sickle moon. I am skimming the water – or at least, I think it’s me. I am usually male but tonight I’m not. I have wings, they are large but heavy and I can only just keep above the water. They must be artificial because they have gears and cogs. I can’t make it on my own, I need help, support.
I want to be a bird, I want to fly. The skimming of the water accentuates the feeling of speed, of movement, but gravity is strong tonight and there is a fear of falling in the wild and unforgiving sea beneath me.
Freud had some things to say about flying in dreams; he reckoned they were a figment of an over active ego. But Freud is Freud and this is my dream and I get to say what it stands for. It is simply power, freedom, dance, energy. It comes from the belly and lifts you up, a quickening that is filled with joy and life. It is a sacred thing – hence the halo – and it is taking me home!
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