I’m at at a party in an art gallery. The owner takes me aside and tells me she’s heard about a special project and I’d be perfect to do the job. Would I be interested to hear about it? Sure, I say, and follow her into her private office. There I meet Lynn Redgrave and her husband, who own a very large piece of art that’s a sculpture in the shape of a shell. They’re looking for an artist who can add some tiles to make a mosaic inside the shell. Since I make mosaics, the gallery owner thought of me.
They show me a picture of the sculpture, we discuss the requirements of the job, and I immediately have some thoughts. I describe my ideas, which include a border around the edge and creating the illusion of a pond in the foreground with some lily pads. They love the idea.
Doing this project would mean spending at least a month at their vacation home on a very remote island in the south Pacific. Considering I have an empty nest and no kids at home—(plus the fact that the job pays $100,000) I accept.
I return to the party—already imagining working in a bathing suit all day, planning to order sheets of glass for the tiles in various shades of green for the mosaic. I’m starting to mentally figure out how I will transport bulky art supplies to the south Pacific.
And then… I wake up.
The good news is– I immediately get the meaning of the dream—a message crystal clear as the water surrounding the imaginary island: I need to spend more time in my art studio, my soul is pining for it.
Still—too bad about that $100,000.