Last nights dream:
I'm in art school again. I dream about this building a lot. It's a combination of my high school and the main art building on the campus of UNT in these dreams. I am having a show of my paintings in the hallway on the top floor. There are a lot of people milling around looking at my art and drinking wine.
I recognise all the paintings, but they are in a style I've never painted in before. But in the dream I know they are mine. They are all large watercolors that are broken up in a grid with mostly green and red hues.
Most of the paintings have price tags ranging from a few hundred dollars to a few thousand. The largest painting has a price tag labeled "$ 0.00". A sticker of a jar full of pennies gets placed over the sales tag, indicating that someone wants to buy it. A murmur of excitement goes through the crowd. People ask me who wants to buy the painting and how much I plan to charge them. Someone says I could charge $10,000, because then I would be able to pay off my debts. I decide to charge $10. I feel exhilarated by this, thinking that this low price shows that I don't care about money, that it's the art that is important. Some people congratulate me on my daring lack of materialism. Others seem puzzled.
Then I wake up.
I'm in art school again. I dream about this building a lot. It's a combination of my high school and the main art building on the campus of UNT in these dreams. I am having a show of my paintings in the hallway on the top floor. There are a lot of people milling around looking at my art and drinking wine.
I recognise all the paintings, but they are in a style I've never painted in before. But in the dream I know they are mine. They are all large watercolors that are broken up in a grid with mostly green and red hues.
Most of the paintings have price tags ranging from a few hundred dollars to a few thousand. The largest painting has a price tag labeled "$ 0.00". A sticker of a jar full of pennies gets placed over the sales tag, indicating that someone wants to buy it. A murmur of excitement goes through the crowd. People ask me who wants to buy the painting and how much I plan to charge them. Someone says I could charge $10,000, because then I would be able to pay off my debts. I decide to charge $10. I feel exhilarated by this, thinking that this low price shows that I don't care about money, that it's the art that is important. Some people congratulate me on my daring lack of materialism. Others seem puzzled.
Then I wake up.
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How are you?