In the dream, I knew I was in heaven, or someplace not in this world. I was looking on to a vista, a meadow of some sort, that had a never ending horizon. I was looking through a sort of portal, perhaps a window, and saw flowers that were shining and looked as if each was a prism of color. Each flower was a different color, but the colors were not one would see on a color chart, or like on a chart of watercolors seen on the header of my art blog. Instead, each color spoke for itself, almost shouting happiness.
Each flower was a brilliant color; the color emanated from the center of each glass-like flower, shining outwards. There was an innumerable number of these flowers, and they were so bright it was hard to focus on just one flower, but instead, I had a feeling of being in a different and exceptionable place I had never been before.
When I awoke from this dream, I had a feeling of love surrounding me. I immediately thought of my mother who died ten years prior, who had artistic ability, and loved colors in any form. (Funny, though, she only wore beige, cream colors and browns in her wardrobe.)
Since that dream, I have become a quasi-fanatic about colors, always trying new combinations in my paintings.
I will never forget that dream.
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