This creature popped up in my dreams at the end of November. Perhaps it was the month of insomnia that brought him to the surface? After I drew the bear, he disappeared from my dreams. I suppose he just wanted to be acknowledged.
I woke up three times last night, my dreams interrupted by uncompleted items on my daily "to do" list. For that level of disturbance -- you'd think the things on the list would be more critical than "write thank you notes" "buy supplies" and "call portapotty company". Sometimes I think we (as a society) suffer from anxiety because our battles aren't quite as epic as our emotions are. My emotions are so epic -- I need bigger dragons.
Here's a pastel drawing from last winter's vault.
Sometimes I wish I had wings.
But if I did, would I be brave enough to fly? What would I have to give up to soar?