Fleeing naked along endless paths through mountains of jagged debris. A world torn apart. Feels like moving through molasses. Enough light to register, but not enough to see more than looming shadows. The air is hot and oppressive. It’s hard to breathe. Sounds are muffled, no echoes. Safety lies at the centre of the maze but the path shifts and twists away like a living thing.
It was a recurring nightmare throughout my childhood. I still get anxious in really dim lighting, like when lights on a dimmer switch are down really low or candlelight in a dark room. I call it nightmare lighting.
I found some money I squirrelled away for a big luxury purchase, so I’m buying a painting. It’s the first piece of art in years that’s stopped me in my tracks to stare. I have a print, but it’s not the same.