As long as I remember, I’ve had highly detailed and emotionally charged dreams. At times I acted impulsively in reaction to my dreams, even the stress-induced or bad food dreams, and other times I would get discouraged from my dreams not understanding the nighttime narrative.Over the years however, I’ve learned which dreams were pizza dreams, which ones were residue from the day, and which ones were instructive for me.
But sometimes...sometimes there are dreams that are more than informational and enter the world of deep motivation and encouragement. Of hope and clarity. Of succor and consolation. A call to adventure. Such was this dream.
This painting is not a depiction of the dream, but a glimpse of the early light I get to see every day. I wake up early to bask in and soak up the Grace afforded me, that I may pour it out likewise onto a canvas.
Everything was bathed in morning twilight periwinkle as I entered a darkened mudroom adjacent to the dimly illuminated kitchen of our house. Our house! I opened the door to the cool autumn air and the crunch of purple gravel beneath my feet as I made my way ahead. I looked up to take note of the grass, garden, and tree canopy about me. Ahead of me on the gravel path was a barn I knew to be my studio. The rest I didn’t see in the dream but understood in my heart that this barn was my art studio rife with my paintings as well as a place to teach other artists.
I woke up still feeling a bit dreamy, as if what I glimpsed was a tease…but slowly, as slumber transformed into waking, encouragement brimmed.
Before I could completely resign this scene as inevitably unfulfilled, I shared it with my wife. We’d only been married a little while at this point but she was already my closest confidant outside of Yeshua (Jesus). And as I shared this dream with her the hope rose within me with every dreamy description. (Looking back, this dream was even an elaboration built upon a scene I’d envisioned about our future while we were dating…but I still didn’t want to make connections that weren't there.) I wrapped up the narrative and she looked at me in wonder matching my own. Then she asked me a question I will never forget, “Was there a window in the kitchen looking at the barn?”
Wait, what did she say?!
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard escape her lips!
And yet, looking back all these years…I couldn’t be more thankful. While we do not currently own any land, or our own house for that matter, and the barn studio remains a distant dream, we endeavor to be prepared for it. We love where we are now, and are faithful with what - and who - we’ve been entrusted. My studio has always been a sanctuary, even more so today than any previous iteration, and I can’t wait to see what dreams may come.