Do I Dream In Colour?

I do.

Until this morning
I would have said
I don’t know.

Some mornings I wake up
knowing I’ve dreamt
but my recollection of the dream
is like this photo –
a bit of a grey mess.

Of course, my mind is like that
on some days too
and I have to give writing and thinking
a miss.

But today I woke up
from a dream of going back
to one of the first places I used to live
after leaving home.

It wasn’t really that place
but there were some similarities
to the real thing.

I recall there was a long dark hall
which had a phone at the end
attached to a wall.

I used to call home on it
and occasionally received calls.

In my dream the hall was painted bright red
and yellow.

(I put that down
to a programme I watched last night
about abstract art).

‘Very colourful’ I said
to the landlady in my dream
who looked much the same
as she did when I really lived there.

I think her name was Carol.

Her kids were buzzing around.

I wondered, in the dream,
why they hadn’t grown up yet
as I watched one of them
disappear into their lounge
on his purple plastic trike.


Abstract Artists (in their own words)