jealous nightmares

I had the thrill of selling art yesterday at the Pop Shop show. The whole experience was a thrill, there was alot of energy in that room. A packed out, one night only show, with every piece going for only $50, will do that to a crowd. Seeing the ‘sold’ red marks on half the paintings only an hour into the show, made for a bit of a frenzy at the check out….I wanted a particular piece, but was beat to the punch, so I bought my next choice. Talked to the girl who bought my ‘coffee blues’ piece, she’s a barrista with a music degree, perfect. I’m so happy it found a good home.
Then I saw more pieces sold off my online sites…..thrilling.

After all that, I went to see my favorite band play…and was uncomfortable in the crowd…people were nice enough, but the awkwardness was overwhelming and so I left, feeling out of place in a familiar and almost comforting sort of way, as if I was 15 again.

All this reminded me of a line in one of my poems….’nightmares are jealous of dreams come true’…a jealous nightmare is fierce….
so i’m reposting this poem….while i sit here and realize, the ‘who’ that i am, really hasn’t changed much….my likes and wants and needs as well as my fears and personality quirks are much the same as they were way back when….when the dreams were just dreams and the nightmares, just nightmares…now the dreams are reality …..and the nightmares want revenge….

disconnected

bullies aren’t always bluffing
all the king’s horses never could open a tube of super glue
all the king’s men think duct tape can save the world
nightmares are jealous of dreams come true
a jealous nightmare is fierce
glitter never decomposes
had a dream about the talking gecko, he is very wise
what is it about being small and green, first Kermit, then Yoda….
friends who can refrain from saying, i told you so, are precious
emotional states need travel guides, accurate maps and translators
squeezing eyes tight, covering ears and singing real loud is tried and true
la, la, la , la….you can’t see me, you don’t even exist…..
being a mess is liberating in a way
smile real big at a perfect stranger today, it’s fun

~

wink if you’re brave

only strangers are allowed to be perfect by the way

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