The other night I had a dream that I had an art show scheduled. I might have still been in school, either CSU or UW. Either the time had passed to install the art show, or it was the day I should be installing it. Someone called to notify me about it, and I realized I was completely unprepared for it, and didn’t have any new works or anything framed. It’s like an “I didn’t study for that test and haven’t been in class for two weeks” type dream, except with exhibiting. I can’t remember ever forgetting about an art show; usually those things have always been on my front burner calendar.
Last night I dreamt I was back in grad school in the awful studio I had for my first three years there. There was some young male student who was very friendly, but he used that friendliness to take advantage of the other students, including me. He completely took over our spaces and cleared them out and started moving the dividers around so he could have more room for himself. I was really mad at him and demanded he show me where he put all my stuff and give me back my space. I was yelling at him out in the hallway. Stan was with me. We went into a stairwell that didn’t look at all like the stairwells in the InHumanities building IRL. They were more like stairwells in an older building with wooden railing painted white. Somehow he had gotten on the other side of the stairwell balcony that overlooked many floors below. He was just hanging on to the wooden handrail and balusters and we were arguing. Then I somehow undid his grip and he fell. He fell about six stories. I heard him yelling as he fell to either his death or broken neck. Stan and I looked at eachother in a “what do we do now?” way. It was actually rather comedic, except I was hoping he had died so that he wouldn’t live to tell that I had “pushed him.” Do I tell authorities, or hope he doesn’t live to accuse me?