After watching the full moon rise the other night, there was a really good dream. K. was surprised, and couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He's right, they are usually murders and mayhem. But this one was lovely, with an edge of sadness, but even that was ok. I was a widow, and had made a tiny handmade paper book that was to be a gift for a new love, who was both a prisoner and the jailer at the same time. I came to visit each day, sitting in a tiny cottage just outside and stitched while we talked and sometimes danced. Once while turning slowly to the music, I wept, remembering my first husband. There was a pregnancy, too. We watched as the baby rolled and stretched in my belly. During all of this there was wondering about what to put into the book... pressed leaves, paintings, poems?
In the morning there was a little more work on the tiny book.
The next night's stories were of visiting Wes Anderson sets- rooms with pink walls hung with pretty paintings and antlers... all the while trying to convince family members we weren't so different.
Then, in real life, but just as dreamy, came wonderful mail from Deb Lacativa. This sky is just a bit of a length of cloth that holds so many stories waiting to be stitched, and I wish you could feel and see how silky and soft that moon cloth is.
And I am absolutely in love with this beautiful piece. I just keep carrying it from place to place with me.
