dreams forgotten on an inflatable life raft

6:15 am monday 09 08 2025 walking with purpose but unknown destination. with someone who is recognizable, but I don't know who. the feel is of a previous love relationship, tallish gal late 20s, more like early 30s wearing thin white cotton sleaveless blouse n britches. dirty-blonde mid length hair, and I never see her face. its quite sunny and feels like LA. we're walking around, no, searching or on a hunt that is vague and bleach white. walking through into and around freeways, cement rubble, liminal spaces between. we're liminal too. barely distinguishible and certainly unseen. we're looking for something and unseeing everything. I come across a small rectangular wood table. it seems do clean in the sun. actually despite the chaos n fusing n repelling forms, everything is clean, bright and warm to the touch. there is a danger here that feel almost benign. LA sun.

on the little wood table there are near n semi neat piles of vintage Al Jaffee MAD magazine pocketbooks, some I recoginize as favorites. I am excited and enchanted. I want to take them all but I feel the heavy weight of knowing this is impossible and would hinder our impossible search for . . well. the not known. I feel the invisible tug or pull or urgency to forge ahead by my partner carer friend loved one. I feel that heavy pull of sadness and defeat. as I write this, I recognize that feeling as one of touchpoints of my childhood . . growing up as a true individual, as a so-called only child, in a single parent family, mainly feeling alone and isolated. pioneering a life as an open hearted artist, self directing his personal development and progress.

my searchingness. here in this dream. fulfilled in the findingness, the treasure and pleasure of art n humour. the weight of having to figure out how to keep it. nurture or preserve it. the weight of learning I have to leave it.

the weight of leaving.

weightless inflatable life raft.

needed. yet never leaving.

7:30 am wednesday 09 10 2025 the other day we were on a walk around the neighborhoodn I remember glancing across someone's yard captivated by the backlight of the sun lighting up a fan of tree leaves, much like some lovely n chromatic stained glass. it was so gorgeous yet so common, so ordinary, fleeting n ephemeral. extraordinary. much like Life. well. let's just say I was struck by it and found myself doing a small silent prayer of thanks, gratefulness and well wishes.

now prayer is quite new for me. I've really only explored it over the last, oh say, 3 or so years. I don't do it regularly, more like sporadically, um, spontaneously. also, I was not raised with any religious ritual, method, well, any religious anything. so this, at the latter half of my life is unique and, well, new. and perhaps like many others, I began out of crisis and simply being at wit's end.

I also found it attractive on an artistic creative level, as I found praying or prayer as

the most riskiest, experimental thing to do.

moreover, maybe one of the most elemental things to do.

and really

all of that appeals to me, greatly!

body soul n mind.

talk about putting your Self out there!

prayer is Way Out

and

Way In

it is gentle communication and yeah

spiritual

I dig it

and still do it when the mood and or occasion moves me. I mean

what have I really got to lose?

seems like loving your Self, trusting your Self and this Life, this Realm

in an extraordinary way

natural

like Life.

Prayer Leaves Light, 2025 by moi