I woke up this morning, and it was still slightly dark, and I simply fell back asleep. I didn't care. It felt so good.
I dreamed that I was watching this little boy, and the parents came home, but he and I were having such a good time that I didn't leave right away. His parents came and sat on this mound of pillows we were on, and they looked at our pictures we had painted.
Then I told the little boy a story.
I could make the illustrations in the air with my fingers. And they moved.
It was a story about a woman who lived alone on top of the highest mountain of ever. She was lonely, and an excellent singer. In fact, she was the best opera singer the world had never known. Only the mountain goats listened to her arias. But the tip top of the mountain was slightly bent, and it dripped down to the ground far below. So one day the opera singer had a brilliant idea and she started blowing hot air onto the tip, making it melt faster. Because she had such magnificent lung capacity, it only took six years for her to melt the mountain to a point where she could climb down without the risk of too great an injury. She ends up with lots of bruises on her knees, but she does get down and she makes it to the opera house in New York and she becomes amazingly famous.
After the story was finished, the Dad of the little boy handed me five hundred dollars and the mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder and then I walked out to my car and then Mandy woke me up to get ready for school.
That was one of the best stories I have ever made.
Yesterday I made lemon curd, so tonight after homework and bubble tea there is a lemon tart waiting for me. And while I painstakingly try to make the illustrations to this piece as perfect as they were in my dream, I will listen to possibly Gungor and enjoy life in the evening while the incredible Oregon sun sets.
I wish I could explain to everyone on this planet how incredible my life is these days.
I want to share it with everyone.
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