The Geometry Of Dreams

2

528The horizon curves delicately around the periphery as your field of vision expands. Small dots of light appear, shimmering specks drift like dust motes suspended in sunbeams.

There is the feeling of something pending.

At the edges, shadows of colors slip past, just out of focus. Bright like candy, tantalizing, beyond reach.

You inhale the scent of waterfalls and snowflakes. Electric ozone, ions crackling in the ether.

Through a clearing in the mist, you see a form beginning to take shape. Black shiny slick shards reflecting puddles of light like vinyl coated with glycerine; jagged pieces of something broken coming together like puzzle pieces. The shape grows as it assembles itself into being…extending back into space, jutting out in all directions, folding in on itself. Sharp edges, impossible angles.

Oddly, the shape gives the impression of being larger on the interior than appears possible from outside. You ponder the incongruity as it begins to slowly rotate, revealing unpredicted dimensions with every turn. A single object with an infinity of forms.

You stare hypnotized by the shifting outline of the rotating shape until you lose the sense of the rotation and it simply appears to be undulating in place.

All at once the object shatters. The pieces fly apart, morph and change. Now red, lusterless, dense as wrought iron. The edges come back together seamlessly, but the form is entirely different. Amorphic and flowing. Plumes and geysers of dull red material reaching out, circling, and then collapsing back down into the surface.

You begin to notice strange fibers, growing thicker, emanating from somewhere inside the object or inside yourself or both. Perspective is not functioning as expected; you realize you are seeing from more than one vantage point.

The strands split into fine filaments all around you, pulsating with color and light. Fascinated, you watch as they recombine to create new colors and then separate out again. You sense that each thread holds a part of a message. Individually they say nothing, but together they form a cypher that explains everything, conveyed through a feeling impossible to describe.

You turn around to find that the scene has shifted. Transparent entities connect and merge like geodesic soap bubbles, layering to produce intricate structures. Everchanging moirés of subtle color flow and shift across the surface. You are passing through them, cobweb fingers brushing your skin…new and unfamiliar sensations entering and blending as you expand farther and farther through a space that has no end.

You begin to feel that you could go on like this forever. Before the thought has a chance to register, the space shrinks down into a single point, blinking out like an exhausted star.

You wake feeling on the edge of possibility. Stretching, arms spread wide, squeezing the sleep from your veins. It’s going to be an interesting day.

2 Comments

  1. Brenda Litman
    June 6, 2015 at 10:23 am // Reply

    It sounds very much like what happens in your multi-part paintings, fascinating!

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