I am one of those people who dreams a lot. As in all the time, dreams piling up every night like a layer cake of stories and radical emotions. I remember nightmares from my early early childhood. And I remember them from just last week. Then there are the beautiful ones. They are rarer. City of Green Fire was a whole novel in a night. The catspider paintings came from one dream that never got shelved, never got forgotten, but rather developed its own mythology. It was at once a nightmare and a message that has evolved over the years.

My night mind is a constant oil spill of stuff, pouring out, pooling, evaporating and occasionally harvested for pictures.

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