No, in this dream I did not see ghosts or have a problem washing my hands clean. I was in a home where an older man proudly and tersely showed me his photo gallery. Strong and riveting images. Even in the dream I realized I was some sort of critic and this guy fell into that class of artists that operate outside of museums and collections.
He paused in front of one shot of a young woman who at first appears to only be holding a shawl or something. Then you realize she is clutching the bloodied hat of someone fallen at her feet. The moment is discordant, the light on her almost pastoral, at the scene of a terrible accident. A hit-and-run?
The man's wife comes up to me and says, with a burr, "there's an old saying, you get the best twice, once when you know it and twice when you show it." The man clears his throat or maybe he is saying something unintelligible to me but his wife laughs and says she'll be serving tea.
I sit down to interview this master of light.
The alarm goes off and it is Monday and the gray skies and work week hours resume.