Listen for the Trumpeter swans trumpeting / Bob Dylan dream / Someday I'll draw a masterpiece with my non-dominant hand (-:

A few nights ago I dreamed that I was line with about a dozen people in an intimate hallway, waiting to see an art exhibit for a second time and noticed Bob Dylan talking with other people farther back in the line.  It turned out that he was the curator for the exhibit which I soon found featured not only the art work of women but also included a section that was like a county fair as well as an outdoor garden section.  There was no commotion around him.  He was speaking calmly and quietly to each person in a gracious and friendly manner.  I hoped that he would notice me and talk with me, but I was okay if he didn't and he didn't.  A woman asked if he could sign one of his songbooks and he obliged her.  

He was dressed in a vaguely Middle Eastern cotton shirt jacket and faded jeans.  The shirt jacket had pale vertical stripes that were green, orange, red, tan and golden.

When it was my turn to the enter the exhibit, I walked in with much more awareness than the first time. Once again, the first thing I saw was a small square self-portrait of a young woman painted in mostly greens.  Her face was golden.  Her handwritten poetry inspired by her painting was on the wall underneath her self-portrait.  The exhibit walls were rounded.  I continued in a counter-clockwise direction, seeing each woman's art work as if for the first time.

On this second visit to the exhibit, I went further than before and came to a hallway with living rabbits in fanciful dioramas.  This part of the exhibit was something like the 4-H area of a county fair.  

Continuing on I discovered there was a door leading outside to a garden exhibit.  While I was looking at a display of flowering plants, I saw one of my former hospital co-workers, Eduardo.  He stopped to talk with me.  I wanted to tell him that I am learning to speak Spanish, but his grandson insisted that they keep walking to the next garden display.  His grandson appeared to be about 11 years old and was excited about the garden displays.  Eduardo smiled at me, at the same time shrugging his shoulders the way he always used to do, and let his grandson pull him forward.  

The last comes first / All is not lost

For now, the snow that began falling on Christmas Eve has melted.  But there will be more snow to come.  The sunrises have been beautiful.  My flowering maple is blooming.  Stopped using caffeine a few months ago and realized that all my mandalas have been fueled by caffeine except the last one with the horses and birds.  With caffeine, I can focus on tiny details for extended periods of time.   I was feeling discouraged because I can no longer tolerate caffeine and was wondering if I would be able to draw very much at all without the use of caffeine. Feeling blocked,  I sat down at my drawing table and felt sadness.  Then something prompted me to pick up a 6B pencil with my non-dominant left hand and to draw my right hand.  I went on to draw a few of the things that are on my drawing table.  Amazing!  All is not lost.  The views from my yoga mat have been splendid, including that of a moonrise.  There is winter bird song.  Although I have no photo, twice I've seen a flock of trumpeter swans when I glanced up and looked out the window.  The last two photos were taken early in the morning after the first heavy snowfall.