I dream of tires, front steering tires, to be precise; they are turned at a slight angle, I can smell them, I can see their tread and pat my pocket, looking for the tread measure. There are no abrasions on the sidewalls: they look factory new, and there is a spot of red paint yet which marks them as such.
The painter, C.A. Jeffrey, has a great love of coffee (see right under Links). I did a picture of her in a coffee house once in my series of painters with flat tires: sort of the Mahlerei of Flats. I did Giorgio de Chirico, too. De Chirico drove a PT Cruiser with Donald Duck style exterior sun visors, so big that they supplied a good deal of lift.
In dreams, tires seem iconic, enigmatic, and powerful. Dream time is the time of life we all do the back stroke as we rest ourselves floating on the rip-tide of the world.
--
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment