From a quilt to a dream: Double image

My most recent post was about a quilt by Luke Haynes that depicts, in a single image resembling a double exposure, both Jay-Z and Kanye West. I wrote the post on 4/27 and yesterday added the observation that this effect is “so like a phenomenon that’s common in dreams—the conviction that something is both this and that. An apple and a tomato. Daytime and nighttime. Jay-Z and Kanye.” Here’s a slightly different view than what I used in the previous post; this one shows the double-image effect better.

Luke Haynes's quilt, different view
(image from LukeHaynes.com)

(FYI, I’m confused about the title; on the other view, it’s given as “The Throne,” but on this one it might be “Rags to Riches.”)

This morning my dreaming mind provided me with an example, in which the person I’m talking to is two ex–significant others from waking life in one dream person. It can be difficult to get this type of double exposure down in writing, because the image and identification get slippery: At any given moment, is the dream character K. or is he L.? He’s both.

After-Sick Coastal Drive (4/30/12)

At home: a many-story, crystalline atrium. It’s gently lit throughout; the effect is uneven, because of its crystalline angles. For an atrium, it’s relatively narrow. It’s nighttime.

(F)  Beautiful yet uncomfortably confining, maybe because it has no obvious windows, no view to the outside. I’m jaded to the beauty.

I’m standing at the railing at mid level with my husband: K. (??). He’s been very sick for days, but the sickness has just broken like a fever [L.??].

(Feelings) Relieved.

Now he’s ready to bust out of here, sick of having been sick. He says, “You want to take a drive along the coast?”

“Now??”

“Yeah!”

“We won’t be able to see anything, you know.” (I envision it being completely dark.) That disappoints me, but still, the idea appeals to me. The coast. The spontaneity. “Okay!”

(Feelings)  The idea excites me, like the carnival coming to town used to do when I was little. Happy. And maybe subconsciously, I realize it will be daylight by the time we’re driving back.

I’ll be doing the driving, of course, either because I’m the only one with a license [K.] or because my husband is still weak from being sick [L.]. He asks which direction: up the coast (Connecticut) or down (New Jersey)? I think about it for a minute. We might lose the enthusiasm by the time we get to New Jersey; Connecticut seems easier to get to. “Connecticut!” I say.

(Feelings)  Considering the question makes me a little nervous: how fragile the spontaneity and joy of this are!

“Should we take Grandpa?” I ask, reluctantly. He lives with us, and I know he’d be happy to get out, and hurt if we didn’t take him. Not sure I get an actual answer, but my husband and I both know it has to be done, even though Grandpa’s lame jokes and repetitive questions are going to be annoying as hell.

(Feelings)  Ugh. Yet this doesn’t feel as threatening to the fun as making the wrong decision about which way to go. This is doing the right thing, taking care of family.

[End of dream]

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