dreams - too much death and destruction - new art start with drugs and love

 Dreams are another world.

That’s what this sleep-place is, ANOTHER WORLD.

And (at the moment in dream after dream after dream every night+morning) there’s a gut-wrenching war-of-slaughter in the streets of our normality and (yet) at the same time there’s a soul-searching new world growing from the annihilation of the trenches.

A murder world.
An art world.
A drug world.
A friendly world with caring & sharing people who just want to BE and DO, together, like a very large group of well-known friends in a complex town or city.

But this was a (real, living, breathing, south-caost…) city I’d been to before, tried to get transportation out of before, except that it had grown – the supportive Art Factory Shows were getting bigger and bigger, Art on Many Levels. Every exhibit unique. Total warmth of Humanity, despite the necessary slaughter of the masses for ‘some unsaid agenda’ that got us there.