For @daily.prompt/21-march-2025-mariannewests-freewrite-writing-prompt-day-2682-painter-of-dreams
I'm surprised by how long it's been since I last did a freewrite.
I am the painter of dreams. My canvas is your thoughts. My paints are your memories. When you awake, I light the canvas on fire. Perhaps your waking mind will catch a glimpse as my art turns to ashes.
Where are your dreams? Do they reside in your mind? Do they live out in the world? Do they continue on, long after you have forgotten them? Yes. Each dream you dream spins off a world. You were once a dream. Your dreams shall dream.
I painted you once. In a young mind, fresh with promise. He gazed out at a lake. You were a waking dream. Nighttime did not birth you, no. You were imagined and crafted by my hand, but guided and encouraged by the young boy. He wanted to know what the future held. He wanted to be sure it was ok. He knew a warm cat, a warm dog, a room with shelves of books, an idea of something being possible.
I painted you once. She was a different girl than the woman you are now. She dreamed you secretly. You were a secret even to her waking self, but in the night, she painted you with me. Fierce. She painted you again and again. She knew you better than she knew herself.