Dream of: 27 March 1997 "Dalí's Floating Books"
creating art and knowing God are the same
Perhaps thirty spirits, including myself in spirit form, were gathered in a high-ceilinged athletic-like room. Although we were spirits, we still resembled normal physical beings – except that we displayed no color, all of us being dressed in white. Our purpose for being assembled was far from pellucid to me. However I had a certain sense of why we had been gathered together. Gradually I began to sense that one among us was to be selected for some grandiose purpose, and that at least to some extent, we were in competition with each other to be chosen. I was calm, but somewhat subliminally agitated, realizing the importance of what was transpiring.
Slowly I also became aware of another figure standing over to the side of the room, set apart from the rest of us. This figure, all dressed in black, somewhat resembledMike Schwille (a Dallas criminal court judge before whom I had previously practiced criminal law). It was immediately manifest that he was the being there with the power; and he wasted no time in displaying it. He announced that by now it should be completely obvious to all of us who the chosen one was, because that person was wearing white shoes. With trepidation I gazed down at my own feet and saw that I was sporting a pair of brilliant white tennis shoes. Glancing around the room, I saw that no other spirits was wearing white shoes, that I was the only one. When the other spirits saw my white shoes, everyone knew I was the chosen one.
However, the being dressed in black mentioned that one other spirit in the room had also been chosen in some way. But the other spirit was more like a child and its destiny was to remain on its knees, praying.
My destiny, however, was not one of supplication, but of action. I knew that the selection ceremony had now been concluded, and that it was time for me to act. I also knew what I had been selected to be: an artist. An intense feeling of satisfaction welled within me. I had previously suspected my destiny, but until now, I had never been certain.
I detected no animosity from the other spirits that I and not they had been chosen to be an artist. Everyone seemed to know it was my destiny, and no one opposed it. To the contrary, all the other spirits now seemed to realize they were the raw material of my art.
By now the other spirits no longer resembled people. Instead, they all looked like white bricks neatly lined up on the ground, awaiting me to work with them. As I felt my artistic powers flowing naturally within me, I raised myself off the ground, floating a meter or so in the air over the bricks. As I did so, the bricks also began to move, all slowly rising synchronously around me, somewhat in the form of an abstract funnel cloud. With complete ease and mastery, I turned my body upside down so that I was floating with my legs straight up above me and my head and arms below. I felt no discomfort whatsoever; the position was highly conducive to my work. From this position I could reach down and touch the bricks, which now seemed more like thick white books lying on the ground. The sonorous strains of music played in the background – something which sounded like "Love Is A Many Splendored Thing."
I touched the books, which also seemed somewhat like audio books, that is, the cases of audio books with the cassettes inside. As I felt the books in my hand, I thought I discovered a key to art: awareness. Holding each book in my hand, I became aware of it, I incorporated it into my being, and I understood that an artist must be continuously aware. As the floating brick-books formed a funnel-wall which looked like something from an abstract painting by SalvadorDalí, a more concrete realization began to unfold inside me: by practicing my art, I not only created art for other people, I also learned something for myself. And as I hovered there upside down in the air, with my long white gown flowing in the air, experiencing sensations of being almost Christ-like, I realized something else. For a long time I had tried to know God. Now I had discovered a truth about God's nature: for me, creating art and knowing God were the same thing. There was a fusion for me of two different ideas – when I created art, I felt God within me. I had never before put these ideas together. Now I not only knew the truth of this fusion of God and art, I felt it. And that feeling was part of my essence, an essence which I was now beginning to understand. When I created art, I knew God.
My hands held onto the books, absorbing the feeling of the books so I could remember them. Becoming aware of things and remembering them was a critical part of my art. Now I focused on the concepts and words in my mind, fixing them so I could remember them later: "God", "art" and a voice in the background saying, "Steven on the fourth floor."
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