I woke up still wandering through the heads with blurred bodies. The curtains between this world and the dream world had lost their edge. At night they moved in and out of focus passing by. By day I froze them in paint. I lost sight. Were they dream images I was painting or vice versa?
My Spiritualist grandmother had a suggestion. “When they appear in movement – tell them to stop. If they don’t – yell at them! Then ask them to back up and stop fidgeting. You can then – of you so choose – talk to them.”
None of the above were actions I wished to take.
“Fine,” my grandmother said, “they have better things to do and places to go.”