I have always appreciated how well I can remember my dreams, even some of the not-so-great dreams. Wading through the contents of a dream is like holding up a mirror to my subconscious self. Sometimes it's the best way to know if I'm still chewing on something, my mind is trying to comfort me, or there's an answer to something I've been mulling over for a while. Robert, on the other hand, rarely remembers his dreams. I didn't really think about it one way or the other until Robert. Now that I know some people just don't remember their dreams, I definitely thank every single dream for sticking around long enough for me to mull it over when I wake up.
I often see the same people and things in my dreams. I am a grown-ass adult who has lived in a few different places, but a surprising number of my dreams still take place in my grandma and grandpa's house. I'm living my adult life, but their house just happens to still be my house. Or I dream I am younger and it's my house. People who are long gone are often alive, and there's absolutely no moment where my sleep self thinks, you silly goose, those people are dead. I've often wondered if the yearning to have them back is so strong I've somehow made them a permanent part of my life through dreams.
There are a lot of recurring things in my dreams too. Pretty much all of the carpet in my grandma's house is the flooring for that house, my adult house (when it decides to be a part of my dreams), and any place I'm living in my dreams (thankfully red shag carpet goes with everything). No matter the place I dream, my grandma's house still finds a way to sneak in with its carpeting, placemats, linoleum, kitchen utensils etc.
There are a few other constants in my dreams too. One of those constants is a teapot who has a face but never says anything. It just sits there with its face that almost blends into the blue of its pot, the only movement an occasional blink of its third eye. I totally blame Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast for this. Though they are both living teapots, that's where the similarity ends.
My teapot is always blue, quietly listening, and sometimes growing flowers from the top or with a handle that's a flower. As creepy as it sounds, I don't feel any ominous vibes from the teapot. But the teapot's presence is so loud. I can feel the teapot nearby no matter what's going on in the dream. Start a load of laundry, get the teapot feeling, and yep there it is. In the car, listening to music with my brother, Scott, feel the teapot nearby, and there it is. Making sandwiches with my deceased grandmother, get the teapot feeling, and sure enough it's there.
I have tried sketching the teapot a few times right when I wake up to capture its changes and try to make sense of it. No such luck.
I have no idea what the gender of the teapot is or if that's of any importance. I haven't been able to decipher the meaning of the teapot. The only thing I know for sure is that it has something to do with the third eye chakra.
I waffled about the teapot's lid, since it does change in the dreams. After several changes, I finally decided to lean into the third eye chakra. Thankfully, I had just the tea boxes for the job. I dipped into my jar of quote tea tags for the background to represent all the unspoken wisdom from this teapot. Little did I know that by doing so, I would never get a decent picture with everything in focus. It's a perfectionist's nightmare.
For the sides of this piece, I used what Robert calls my "doily paper," which seems appropriate for tea. The doily paper is the only paper that didn't come from tea packaging.
If you look really closely, you might be able to spot Brad Paisley. When I finished this piece I asked Robert, "what do Mrs. Potts, the third eye chakra, and Brad Paisley all have in common?"
Imagine if I used those three tags in Etsy and there's someone out there who types in all three LOL.
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