Mixed Media - Oil, Acrylic, Fiber, Wood & Dried Flowers - 69 Inches x 69 Inches

e night felt old, like a memory before my time. It was darker than normal outside our lone Chicago loft. The howling wind and battering rain left little to no ripple of moonlight to fell the sky. It reminded me of place I had just been in my dreams. Running across rooftops with my brother clan, tomahawk in hand. I was later informed my loft was built upon an old native burial ground.  Perhaps something from there was what visited us that night, some ancient spirit, maybe a trickster, but I thought it was a dragon. At least that’s how heavy its wings felt as it flew down out of somewhere toward us.

I can’t say why it came, we had just been theorizing about the sun and portals like all nerds do. But the force of the wind tore a window from its frame and nearly hit Chris in the head. The rain pushed and side-stepped in making our shelter no shelter at all. The Rottweiler snoozing at my feet felt the thing at the same time I did. It jumped to defense, barking ferociously at the other worldly creature. I sprung to my feet as well, starring up at it. Well, I didn’t see it, I just felt its form. It’s long massive wings flapping above us. Slapping a swirl of rain and wind to sting my face and cloud my awareness. How could I sit in this thing’s presence. It hovered there looking us over for what felt like forever, and then it flew away. The dog looked at me like, “what the fuck was that?”. That dog didn’t leave my side for the rest of the night. Chris didn’t seem like he was there for any of it. He was more concerned with the window that had nearly taken him out.

I don’t know what that experience was. Back then I thought it a threat, something dangerous, there to do me harm. As I looked back through the years, I think my fear was the only threat there was to me. I always felt it was just there to observe, and to remind me... no matter how many days ago or future moons ahead the mysteries that pervade our dreams, also infiltrate our lives.