Saints Dreams, Visions, Collective Conciousness, Premonitions?

Posted on January 26, 2010 by Varg

I had my first NFC Championship dream a week ago. It was stressful. It was like one of those “waiting tables” dreams so many of us former and current service industry folk have where the subject must serve and endless dining room of unruly customers.

Except it was like watching a stressful football game (like the one the other night) only in your sleep, and you can’t escape. I had one a week ago then I had another Saturday night. The second one was stressful enough that I mentioned it to a buggy driver at the Square and he said he had one too. I thought that was coincidence enough and just dismissed it.

Then comes the game and the victory and Garret Hartley’s awesome, majestic, boot through the uprights. In an interview shortly after the game he says…

“People are saying premonition, I don’t know what it was. I just call it a feeling. A random gut-check. I don’t know what it was. I couldn’t sleep too well that night, so I called my dad at 2 or 2:15 in the morning,” Hartly said. “I told him that I had a dream that I was gonna make a 42-yarder on the right hash mark. It was going to come down to that. But I missed it; it was a 40- yarder.”

So now I was wondering how many other folks were having these dreams of Mother Abigail. Who else was enduring this mental health crisis. I found three more online. My friend Sarah said her boyfriend had one and then…

Meg Lousteau
I had a dream that I missed the game, then ran into someone in the hallway who was smiling, so I knew we’d won.

And…

Morwen NiAnne Madrigal
Was waking up yesterday morning- In an alpha-state I saw Brees pass to Shockey for a TD, 9 point lead, and les then 2 minutes in the game.

I am not trying to get metaphysical here. I don’t want to damage my reputation as a skeptic. I don’t believe in predicting the future but I do have a firm belief on the “collective consciousness” and its influence on future events. It isn’t as much a premonition as it is a erosion or fortification in confidence that affects everyone in a certain area or culture.

I guess that does sound metaphysical but I think it’s based in Science and not oils or stones.

Keep an ear out for anymore nocturnal visitations by padded men playing with pigskin.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.