Dreams of A Secret Agent

[part 4 in a series of art pieces inspired by my dreams]

Dreams of A Secret Agent
spanning the last five years


7" x 5" paper, thread, acrylic and glitter on canvas

This piece is about a theme that has wafted through my dreams for years. Well, a person, really. A Secret Agent. No matter where on this planet he is or I am, the connection remains and it is particularly strong in dreams. One of my very favorite dreams featuring him is called Good to See You.

When I think about this connection that spans distance and time, I am reminded of a song on Concrete Blonde's Walking in London album, called Les Coeurs Jumeaux (the twin hearts). There's this somewhat silly interlude in the song when Johnette speaks in french. Though I often roll my eyes at her unnecessary pronunciation of the letter s in several of the words, the line that sticks out when I think of the Secret Agent is "on rêve le même rêve". We dream the same dream.

Don't get it twisted though- the woman in this piece is not in Muslim dress- she has just wrapped her black scarf around her head to keep her hair dry because it is raining. Or maybe she's about to take a ride in her father's amazing vintage red convertible.

Read/see the other dreams in this series, The Mona Lisa, The Angel Singers Visit Me and The Feather and the Butterflies.

Four Years Into a Dream

In honor of my fourth anniversary in my very first dream home, here's a love letter I wrote in September 2005 right after moving in.

I'm in Love

I'm in love -- madly, passionately, deliriously –- with my new home. I’m dancing in my walk-in closet. I stare adoringly at my bathtub. I flirt with the walls and tease them with paint color samples. I sit in the center of each room, most of which are not at all set up yet, and blow smoke rings towards the ceiling. I open and close my liquor cabinet just to look, not to make a drink. I get choked up pulling up on the parking pad to notice her newly pressure-washed shingles. The dishwasher leaks, the washing machine breaks, and I just shake my head- she can still do no wrong. I sleep deeply each night and wake up to notice that birds have built a home right above my head.

In 2009 I've still got the love, but it has been colored by the realities of the challenges in making a relationship work. I roll my eyes as I think that this will be the third year in a row that I've had to repair my roof because Blossom the Possum moved in. And how having to replace three major appliances this year meant that doing the back splash in my kitchen gets put off till next year's tax return check.

But my god, do I love my Atlanta Sky Blue bedroom walls- they still make me feel like I am floating when I lie in my high bed. And my craft room has been the birthing place of more pieces than I ever dared to hope to create. Art actually fills my home of four years- my own and others as I've grown less and less intimidated to decorate the walls that are permanently mine. And hawks regularly visit. And as I watched robins pull worms from my freshly rained upon front lawn this morning, I heard in my head, All the World is Green.

The Mona Lisa

[part 3 in a series of pieces inspired by my dreams]

The Mona Lisa
dreamed October 15, 2006


7" x 5" paper, acrylic, glitter and resin on canvas

I dreamed that I was walking by myself down a cobblestone street in Clonmel at night. I peer into the window of an empty grocery store with a big candy display. I walk further and see a dark window framed by burgundy velvet curtains. I look closer and see that the Mona Lisa is set up on a stand just inside the window. I smile at what a cliche the great painting seems in such a demure setting.

I hear a heartbeat and look anxiously around me. I am still alone. I look back at the Mona Lisa and she has started to glow. I press my forehead against the windowpane. Her face changes into a skull, the skin on her fingers peel back and show bones. At the center of the subtly smiling skeleton is a beating heart, straining to escape its ribcage.

Read/see the other dreams in this series, The Angel Singers Visit Me and The Feather and the Butterflies.

The Angel Singers Visit Me

[part 2 of a series] Every 4-6 months, I have an epic dream. These are dreams that are like journeys charted to my internal map that feel like salve on my soul. They are aptly timed and make my blood course through my veins. I suppose there is a part of me that feels like dreaming this sort of dream is like having a spiritual experience, or at least receiving a message bigger than that what a fortune cookie can deliver. The next piece of art that came from my recent class based on my dreams is an Epic Dream.

The Angel Singers Visit Me
dreamed August 10, 2008


8" x 8" acrylic, glitter and xylene transfer on claybord

I was at a bar with my parents, siblings and cousins that is near my cousin Layla's house that has pictures of heav metal bands all over the walls. I am surrounded by loved ones and about to eat a delicious cheeseburger named after Mötley Crüe.

I look up and see a small group of people in front of me; Neil Young is standing among them. I gasp and slowly move towards him. As I approach him I beckon to him to come in close so I can tell him a secret. I whisper in his ear

"You are one of my angels."

He looks into my eyes and says back, "because of my voice?" I nod. He then grabs me and and spins me around him in a giant embrace. He is beaming. I ask him

"Do you want to know who else are my angels?" He nods. I start listing

"Asdru from Ozomatli, Jerry Garcia, Perry Farrell, the Porcupine Singers... most importantly, Tom Waits..." Neil interrupts me and whispers close in my ear and says "Well, you're in luck then, darlin'."

I look up and on the little built-in stage Tom Waits himself is getting ready to play. My hands fly to my cheeks; I can't believe it. He plays two songs for us. He starts with "Cemetery Polka" and I just stand there staring at this madman 5 feet from me. I think he played a trumpet at one point which I don't think he really does in real life. My family is looking over at me smiling, so happy to see me so thrilled. My dad takes a picture of me.

Then Tom starts on "Who Are You", one of my very favorites of his vast repertoire. This song includes lines like "I fell in love with your sailor's mouth and your wounded eyes", lines that I have often thought if any man ever says to me I will marry him then and there and live happily ever after.

Tom was singing directly to me and he sings the line "I did my time in the jail of your arms" and its like a skipping record, he repeats that line 3, 4, 5 times just staring intensely into my eyes. I can feel Neil behind me with his hands gently on my shoulders. And I smile through the tears that are spilling down my face, because now I know why we were whispering- this is our secret.

After he finishes the song, Tom mumbles something incoherent into the mic but I swear I can make out that he says something like "you heard the important part," and I know he was talking to me. And he ambles offstage and Neil follows him.

I bite my lip and start walking towards my smiling family.

Read the first dream in this series, The Feather and the Butterflies.

The Feather and the Butterflies

[part 1 in a series] I took a wonderful class at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center this summer called Photo Collage Your Dreams. I was drawn to the class because I have chronicled my dreams for decades in journals. Now, instead of writing in journals I contribute to a blog of dreams that my sister and I founded, the One Second Time Machine.

I have dreams that range from the magical and sublime to the bizarre and silly. I have dreams that chill me to the bone. I have always wanted to try to depict them as art pieces and never felt like I had the right tools to even attempt it. Finding and learning new techniques for visually depicting my dreams is what made me so excited to take this class. Now that it is complete, I couldn't be more pleased with the experience.

The class was taught by a lovely woman who is a wonderful artist, Elizabeth D'Angelo. Beth taught us techniques of transferring images onto canvas and claybord using xylene and spoons, layering them with washes of paint, embellishing by carving and even covering the surfaces with resin (which involved a superfun blowtorch!). She is a warm and thoughtful person who encouraged our writing as much as the visual art, and created a space where we easily and openly shared about our dreams - which often can be quite intimate.

The subject matter of the pieces I made was strictly dreams I have had and written about. Some of the dreams are detailed and complex, others are sound bytes and brain flashes. In the coming days I will post the images along with their corresponding dream here. Today is the first.

The Feather and the Butterflies
dreamed October 5, 2008


5"x7" acrylic, resin, xylene transfer and feather on claybord

I dreamed that I woke up and realized that the beautiful blue feather that Jill recently sent me - that I hung on my bed above where I sleep - had been eaten away. It was skeletal but for a few wisps and the silver spiral remained. I showed it to my mother who said "Looks like the butterflies ate it. Those butterflies eat everything."

Tis the Season

1. To eat a mini candy bar with every meal. And between every meal. No problem since you have the gigantic bag of Halloween candy from Costco. "It's for the trick-or-treaters!" you assured Kristi as you hefted the bag into your cart.

A few days later you realize that every time you pass the dining room table you grab a Baby Ruth to eat on the way to work, a Butterfinger to tide you over till dinner, a Snickers to compliment your otherwise boring lunch of a veggie sandwich and apple slices, a Reese's because Rock of Love Charm School is on, an Almond Joy because the phone rang...

2. To listen to The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack on repeat in your office while you work for days. You sheepishly pause it when your coworkers come by to discuss important matters, but since its Wednesday they've totally already got you figured out.

3. To wear all black everyday accented with spider-based jewelry.

4. To daydream about Carnivals.

Reasons to be Happy Today

1. The Dream Blog that so many lovlies have made a part of their lives - both while awake and asleep. This has become GREAT fun!

2. Chris' Mindlab Blog - for its fashion-advice and its beautiful pictures like this one:



3. That I'm meeting lovely Tiffani for sushi shortly and then heading over to Oakland Cemetery for the Sunday in the Park Victorian festival. There will be bands, food, walking tours, story tellers, an artists' market, even antique cars. One of my favorite things about this day is that they open up some of the mausoleums and you can check out the stained glass engravings close-up. Here are my pictures from last year.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

I literally could not find gas to buy yesterday. Everywhere I went I was greeted by gas stations that looked like vacant lots with blank prices on their marquees indicating they were fresh out.

I don't want to belabor the most thoroughly-covered Atlanta news story by writing about my experience in our gas shortage, but I am surprised by my own reaction to it. And I'm usually level-headed, okay, even inappropriately dismissive of the concerns of the consuming masses. For those outside of Georgia that cannot fathom what they are seeing on the national news, there are some great photos from the AJC of the long queues for car blood transfusions.

By the way, I followed what the newscasters said would help the crisis - earlier this week I had half a tank, I didn't have far to drive, so I didn't panic and top-off my supply. I drove slower and I braked less. And I got down to the red yesterday and there was still no gas to be found.

The anxiety permeated. I fell asleep thinking about gas, I dreamed about gas, I woke up before 9am on a Sunday and gas was my first concern. We Americans are so used to having everything at our fingertips and I was surprised at my own level of perceived crisis when I couldn't access what I wanted/needed.

Granted, I can rationalize it by saying that I needed to make sure I had enough in my tank that I would be able to get to death row in the event of a bad decision from the US Supreme Court for Troy Davis, but I'm sure we all can rationalize it for things that are equally important: getting kids to school, driving to work to have a paycheck so you can eat, visiting a loved one in crisis- there's a million justifications for panic.

I searched online for sites that said which stations had gas - mostly I found sites that told you where to find the cheapest gas which is totally not useful as price doesn't matter if there is none to be had. Finally, I came across the Twitter discussion where people were posting live updates of where they had found gas.

My story ends well, I have an almost full tank - the Kroger on Moreland station cuts you off at 10 gallons, and I have a 14 gallon tank. I waited for 30 minutes in a long line that went up and down the parking lot aisles - and this was at 9:30am on a Sunday. I think people were skipping church to get gas before it all runs out!

And now I find myself questioning the errands I had planned on running today - is it really worth it to expend my precious gas to go to the far north side of the city to get that painting framed? Wouldn't it be better for me to just stay home and organize my bathroom cabinets that I've been procrastinating on for 6 months instead?

This shit is bananas.

Sleeping well

No doubt due to the last-minute halt to the killing of Troy Davis, I finally slept well last night. I dreamed about cupcakes and my mother, and when I woke, the sound of the wind and the birds outside my window told me without a doubt that it is finally Fall in Atlanta.

Happy Dreams

I slept well last night and had two really good dreams that I remember. The first was that we were having a party in Ireland- all my family was there. We were laughing, the weather was beautiful, we were on Burke Street. Out of the blue Mohammad showed up and surprised me- I couldn't believe he was there. He stayed for the night and my brother had an extra toothbrush that he gave him.

I'm sure this dream happened because Mohammad did surprise me yesterday by showing up unexpected to out impromptu celebration that we were not heading to the prison in Jackson, GA. I saw the car pull in and saw dark hair and sunglasses and said to Mica "A really hot guy just got here." Then I realized it was him and quickly applied blueberry-flavored lipgloss on my smile.

In the second dream, my sister, brother and I were hanging out with my Irish Grandmother, who we lovingly called Nanny. We were in Nanny's bedroom but it was different than it was in real life. There was a warm light, like almost like looking through a red filter on a camera. There was an old wooden stereo in this room that could play three records at a time. She had a table lavishly covered in cakes and cookies and velvet bows. Nanny told us that this was where the Snake lived, but that we shouldn't be frightened. I felt repulsed at first when I saw it slithering but then she squeezed my hand. I leaned my head on the scratchy fabric of her dress- at that point I was my little girl height.

I don't remember much else about the dream, just that it was so lovely to get to spend time with Nanny again. And also we drove around in a car that was made out of a grand piano.

Whistling Down the Wind

It feels like a miracle, a dream come true. I got got two tickets to see the beautiful trickster, the gruff angel himself, Tom Waits! The show is in July and boy has my heart never pounded so hard just from clicking from screen to screen to make a purchase on a website.

I have loved him since I heard him for the first time in Alan's car sophomore year of high school and have never had the chance to see him before. I would travel miles to see him, but now only have to head a little nouth on Peachtree to the Fox Theater.

Here's his hilarious press conference announcing the tour:

In bed with the rats

I had a set of awful dreams last night - the kind where you wake up, tell yourself it isn't real, then fall back asleep and dream the whole same damn thing all over again.

My dream was that I was in this courtyard and I was trying to get to a legislator's house. I don't know who the legislator is but there is a sense of urgency that if I don't get there something terrible will happen.

In the dream I'm wearing my super cute vintage green heels and I have to hop around all these dark spots on the path. As I move forward, I start to think that the spots are blood. Ick. As I get closer I realize that what I am seeing are the decapitated (for lack of better words) tails of rats. Vomit.

I am literally playing hopscotch trying to avoid the rat pieces that are multiplying by the moment, trying to keep my lunch down. Finally I reach a house that would otherwise be beautiful if it wasn't covered in dead rat mass. There was a veranda framed by wisteria- but hell, even the beauty and fragrance of wisteria can't cover up this mess.

When I walk inside the house, I feel a formidable sense of dread. There is nowhere to sit down or move to- as now I can see where the rat bodies previously attached to the tails have accumulated.

I am scared, nervous, apprehensive. I'm about to meet someone who is bad enough that they would actually live in this hellhole.

Around the corner of the room peeks Georgia Speaker of the House Glenn Richardson. That's when I wake up in terror, drenched.

Is this the byproduct of three months living day in and out in the Georgia General Assembly? Or is it because prior to my sleep I had a wonderful dinner with my sister nonprofit lobbyist friends who have been fighting this battle with all their hearts for so long yet still having to deal daily with the white male power structure that to this day decides what happens?

Or maybe its just because of this brilliant Creative Loafing Cover for the Wonderful Annual Golden Sleaze Awards:

Dreaming in Stress

This week I have been anxious in my dreams.

From the mild- dreaming that I arrived in Madison to visit my sister and realizing that I hadn’t packed any makeup or my pills. Or dreaming that I got an adorable new kitten but then realizing that my socially-challenged, special needs, 8-year-old cat would flip out at the introduction of a sibling.

To the more moderate, dreaming that my teeth are falling out.

To extreme levels of anxiety. Two separate dreams last night: in one my father was arrested and charged with murder. In the second Mohammad was arrested and charged with murder.

Perhaps its related to current stress levels associated with the final days of the Georgia General Assembly.

Last week with no warning, the House added the worst possible death penalty language to a bill moments before it was to be voted on. We managed to get the bad language removed the following day, but the stress of that 48 hours likely shaved a year or two off of my life.

Today in a committee meeting, a crazy legislator tried to amend a bill about dog-fighting to turn it into a horrendous anti-abortion measure that would provide for the death penalty for doctors who perform abortions.

No wonder I’m having nightmares.

Nuclear Spine

Nuclear Spine, 24" x 12", acrylic on canvas.

It was really nice to spend some time painting this weekend.

Last night I had a dream where all my teeth were falling out. I was so freaked out and kept telling myself in my dream that if I just woke up it would be okay. I have weird teeth dreams every couple years.

In the middle of the dream I look up from my handful of newly lost teeth and see Barack Obama was there. Interpretations are welcome.

Reality TV gets a little too real OR Me + Bret = 4Ever

I don't want to admit it but I have to because its just too good: last night I dreamt that I was competing for Bret Michaels' affection on Rock of Love. It wasn't just one dream either- I tried to use my womanly wiles to lure Bret in two separate dreams last night! Mica was also competing in the first dream, and wearing a fabulous tan lace kinda army looking dress- it doesn't sound cute but I promise it was super cute. And even though we were technically against each other I was still all "hos over bros, yo". The second dream was all me on my own with all the typical blondy blonds that are on the show.

In the dream, Bret and I stepped away from the group for our "one on one" time and I realized at this point that I actually had to think of something to say that would impress him and make him want to keep me around. OH the stress! My mind raced, should I tell him about my work and the terrible outrage that the criminal injustice system wages against poor people and people of color? Should I charm him with my natural hilarity and stories about my family? Should I ask him my old reliable first date question of what-are-your-top-five-favorite-live-concerts-you've-ever-seen?

I settled on telling him a true story about how he and Poison made all the difference in my world after one of the hardest weekends of my life. Some serious shit, real trauma, went down in my life and as a result, I was going to skip the Poison show in Atlanta even though I had been looking forward to it for months. At the last moment, I decided to buck up and go, and Mica jumped in her car to pick me up. The show was totally chill and perfect. About 50 steps from the car I look down and there's a redtail hawk tail feather on the ground in front of me. I knew I made the right decision then.

My Poison boys were just wonderful- working the stage and performing like hell. Bret and Bobby did the backwards kick thing in sync and CC did an electric guitar and piano version of Ray Charles' "Georgia". They played every song I wanted to hear. And Mica threw her first devil horns and I nearly cried with joy! (At this point Mica was back in the 2nd dream because I was trying to make sure Bret knew that she was a great contender for his love too.)

So after telling him about this day, I thanked Bret for the many many times he and his band and his music were like salve on my wounds, from times when I was 14 years old through my current ripe old age of 31. And he was sweet and supportive and humble and I knew this was the beginning of the love of my life. That I would get a backstage pass that night at elimination. That we would be deliriously happy and rock the eff out forever and ever. Me and Bret FOREVER. Best dream ever! But I probably need to chill on the old reality television for a minute.