Creativity · dreams

Dreaming in Architecture…and Art

art deco

It amazes me what my brain can do while I am asleep. My brain reinforces my need for art, architecture, and design. I crave creativity so much that I cannot shut that part of myself off. I know only other creative types understand this phenomenon. I take great solace in knowing I am not alone. Many of us are dying inside because of our jobs, our day-to-day lives, and responsibilities. This dream reminded me that I need to go to the museum more often. I need to draw, take photos, and muck about with paints. I need to immerse myself in these things so I know that I am alive.

I dream in architecture. A perfect example was last night’s dream.

In my dream I was in bed, and woke up in a swanky 1950s Art Deco style hotel, only to find that the walls all around my room were torn down and I could see the steel beams inside the walls. Through them I could see other rooms they were refurbishing. Furniture more appropriate for a dorm room, bunk beds, simple desks made of pale beige wood, sprayed shiny with fire retardant, were set up. I looked up and ceiling of the building seemed miles away. Then I looked to my right to find that part of the wall further down had begun to be plastered, soon the absent work men would be right in front of my large king bed, plastering the space around the exposed steel beams in front of me. The building itself felt gutted, empty, and lacking any aesthetic quality, as I sat in my room filled with some art deco suave.

art deco

Then of course, the inevitable escape from the room took place. This is inevitable because it happens in all my dreams. I run through buildings. I left to go get something to eat at a lunch counter. After I ordered my sandwich, I realized I forgot something in my room, most likely money. Then I was lost. I didn’t know how to get back to my room, which forced me on a journey through all of these other buildings and places. Everything was connected by the hotel, so presumably all the places were in this sprawling hotel. I went through lobbies padded with mauve and maroon, velvet covered chairs and walls. All dimly lit, filled with people in 1940s and 1950s style dress. Restaurants, and nightclubs, and a shoeshine man were all throughout the hotel. I went into a 50s style diner, a sort of speak easy type, bar/jazz club with both dim and bright lights, and men and women sitting around drinking. There was a deli that looked very much like one I had seen off Broadway in New York City, on one of the streets near the Millennium Hotel. I think around 52nd or 55th   streets. I finally came to a soap and apothecary type store, modern day, not of the time I previously ventured. I looked at the various soaps, candles, lotions, and liquids wanting to buy something, but having no money I could not. I asked the store clerk, “How do I get back to my hotel. I’m lost.” He replied in a cheerful mood (probably hoping I would come back to purchase something), “Why, it is just over there, take a left then another left.” I went outside into the street and then quickly back inside the hotel again, as he directed, and found that I had just run in a complete circle. I quickly realized this as I got back to the place where I purchased something to eat. I went up to my room, said hello to someone in the hallway. Upon entering my room, I could no longer see through the walls. Everything was the same, very plush and comfortable.

I promptly collapsed on my bed exhausted from the journey, and woke up. 

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