(missed the bus)
6" x 8"
oil on canvas board
My dreaming self is in the station waiting for a train or on the street corner waiting for a bus to take me home. I'm not sure which one to take, but I sense there is just one for me, when I see that very one has just left. I see it roll past, knowing there is not another.
(Interesting that I never try to get home by boat or plane)
Here is some new research that would suggest that sleep is simply a way of emptying the trash in our brains.