Where one story begins, Another ends....

Prospero:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

I've always liked colour. They say that not everyone is able to dream in colour, that most people dream in black and white. Some specialists say that this is because they don't pay attention to colour in real life - i can't imagine not paying attention. I love colour, it takes the ordinary and makes it extraordinary. It takes a feeling and gives it presence. It can bring warmth, coldness and comfort to a space.

I love snow and it never feels quite like Christmas if it's not a white one. It gives off this glow that can be seen emanating from behind curtains and blinds and when you step outside it makes the world feel crisp and clean. You almost get blinded by the sheer whiteness of the world. And even though the world is so cold, in that moment I feel warm.

I always have people giving me odd looks in classes because i insist on taking notes with a blue, red, pink, purple, dark green and light green pen. The colour helps me organize my thoughts and makes me want to reread my notes. It lends shape and texture sets the stage for great ideas.

So when i dream, i dream in colour. I want to feel as though i can reach out and touch what i'm seeing - "we are such stuff as dreams are made" - maybe if we dream in colour, these dreams will not dissolve and sleep will not be the only way in which they become tangible.

SO i'm reaching out, holding on tight and dreaming in colour....next stop Ottawa.