The Interpretation of Dreams (Part II)

Photos By: Heidi Hastings
I am continuing with my “Interpretation of Dreams” series. It’s sometimes hard to show this kind of work to a class because I feel like the images are a journey into my mind. However, I have thought about it and have come to the conclusion that we all have weird dreams. In fact..the weirdest thing would be to not have strange ones. I mean how boring would it be to just dream you were walking in the grocery or going to Starbucks. Ugh right ?!?! Dreams are a chance to live the crazy life.

Soooooo….Let me tell you a little about my “sleep movie.”
The Dream:
I was climbing up a ladder and the handles were greasy. I was too scared to move so I stood in one place and watched the bodies all around me falling. I looked up into the light and shouted “I’m scared- If I climb I will fall.” A voice from above said “If you fall I will catch you.” “How will you catch me?” I replied “There are hundreds of people falling and no one is saving them.” The voice responded back “Have faith.”
After that I started to climb, I could feel the grease collecting on my hands- I was scared and forced myself awake.

What does my dream mean?? Heck I don’t know. Maybe I need to have a little more faith in the people around me. Maybe I need to release the weight of the world off my shoulders. There is no point in stressing about things that can be fixed. I hope you enjoy this picture. Until then, dream well Lovelies!

7 Responses to “The Interpretation of Dreams (Part II)”
  1. Matt Duvall says:

    I really like this. I’ve had similar dreams, myself. Fear of the unknown and fear of failure are things we can all relate to. This fear keeps us from moving forward (up the ladder). Keep your dreams coming, Heidi!

  2. Victoria Curry says:

    OMG! What a terrifying dream! I’ve had this kind where no matter what you do, it is the wrong thing. You can’t make a move without disaster. I love the photos-they are so dreamlike!

  3. jennyK says:

    I made a poem out of mine… i called it…


    a blanket of canvas, of the purest opportunity, calls unto me, “leave your mark.” buckets of red paint -labeled blood, in tins the color of flesh, liter the ground at my feet. i tap at one lightly, with the toe of my boot, the surface ripples in dark crimson waves. there are no brushes. no gloves and no sheets. no possible way to begin the visions which dance through my head.

    reaching out, my fingers graze the rigidness of the medium, so raw and unaltered. my eyes close to sensations traveling through my skin. it reminds me of screens, doors of the ramshackle sort, randomly dropped on a sea carved steep cliff. it reminds me of life, those wooden green frames suspended wholly on air. invisible walls, a barrier of compounds, hemming me to this shack, the world taunting beyond. yet the sea roars and everywhere i peer, the violent waves lash out. i stand as a tree on the crag, shallow roots clinging desperately to hold, unable to move for fear i tunble into the swirling chaos of nature’s chisel. still, i stare at the doors of opportunity. stationed, i hear the twinkle of twilight’s song as the air becomes alive with electricity.

    surrounded by the witching hour’s flame, my heart takes hold and ignites in a fire of passion, engulfing my being, singeing my senses; consuming my very soul. a myriad of emotions exhume my fears; replaced by a light sense of wonder. the world smells new. feels fresh and alive. i gasp at what sight fills my eyes. a blanket of darkness, prickles of hope, shimmering, calling my name. soothing my chaos to mute these cries of anxiety. the door falls away. becomes the bridge to the vastness ahead. the walls which surround my heart; merely confinements of my own creation.

    carefully treading, soft as a cloud, i choose the most brilliant of stars, losing my sight in its wondrously bright aura like an extended hand, holding me, guiding me, leading me blindly to the beginning of time. when there was nothing. and it was beautiful. and then this voice, this voice called me out from my colorless trance, pulling me back to this place. where, before my face, there stands this canvas, free of contemplation. untainted of thought. i ponder for a moment, and the voice says, “leave your mark.”

    buckets of red paint – labeled blood. an idea crosses my mind. i could paint with my hands, as a child would in play, but no material image would do. so i bathe myself in its life giving flow, turned fully over my head. the greatest story i ever could tell, the image i would leave with the world. the one thing that changes yet stays all the same as i press to the canvas wall without shame. the thing that’s my own, aside from my name. i leave the image of me. for some day from now when my journey shall end, my mark shall continue to be.

    jre ~ 2003

  4. Craig says:

    These photo-shopped photos are amazing! You are very talented.

  5. RachelBeau says:

    I’m struggling with something of that sort myself. I’ve never had the greasy ladder dream in particular, but it may have come in a different “sleep movie” (LOL). BTW I love your photos. I want to be able to put my dreams into digital reality because people never know exactly what you mean… you know? LOL.

    • Thank you so much! I really enjoyed making the dream series and hope to make more when I have the time. Sometimes it’s so hard to put a dream into words- technology really gives me a way to show people more then tell them! Haha I totally understand what you mean- Lots of times I have dreams that are really scary but when I repeat them they actually sound funny- I have a friend who told me that her scariest dream was that there was Lego talking to her and she swallowed it and could hear it speaking from the inside of her stomach– that really gave me a laugh- but to her it was scary! 😉 I have lots and lots of water dreams as well!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

  • wordpress hit
%d bloggers like this: