I had a dream - I know, ho-hum - but it was a magical inspiring dream about creating.
I arrived for work every morning by walking down this wooded path that was worn into the earth, so worn that it was almost a tunnel, and bushes and trees curved up around it and into the sun. I walked down a steady curved slope and when I got there I was surrounded by some of my favorite icons of creativity. Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips worked there. As did Alison Wood, my magical English teacher from high school.
Each person who worked there had a small folding table with a coffee maker on it. They were lined up along the left side of the path as you arrived at the work space. The tables were spaced evenly so everyone had access to their own coffee. We had gotten there first thing in the morning, as we always did, and were chatting with each other before starting our work, joking with someone who had particularly strange coffee-making habits, holding our mugs and laughing loud.
The space we worked in, also outdoors, was off to the right, and I never saw around the corner into it. But there was such a feeling of calm, confidence, and inclusion. I was arriving every morning with all these other artists, ready to get to work, confident that the work space around the corner was there to help us do the job of creating whatever we brought into the world through our work, as it did every day. I was included in the world of creative work and workers, in a way that was calm and spacious and magnificent, unbounded. Either I'm secretly working for the coffee industry or that was one hell of a dream.