Dreams

Dreams is a visual window into the breathtaking, unpredictable expanse of the human subconscious—and the isolating frustration of trying to share it with a waking world. Capturing the duality between limitless imagination and the rigid boundaries of daily life, this piece illustrates the beautiful, chaotic stories we weave when we sleep, and the social barriers that stand in the way when we try to bring those magical worlds into the light.

The black sphere hung suspended in a kaleidoscope of fractured thoughts, a dense and heavy anchor in a world that refused to keep still. Around it, the dreamscape swirled in waves of vibrant lavender, oceanic blues, and shimmering streaks of gold.

Every night, the boundaries of reality dissolved. The dream world brought an overwhelming, chaotic joy—an escape hatch from the mundane. In those endless, winding narratives, you could be anyone. One moment you were walking the familiar, gritty streets of Albert Square, starring in a dramatic episode of EastEnders. The next, the scene would blur and shift violently, forcing you into a desperate battle, fighting for your absolute survival. Then, just as suddenly, the tension would melt away into pure magic as you embraced loved ones who had long since passed away, their presence feeling entirely warm and real. The stories evolved constantly, stretching out over long, epic lifetimes, fluidly mixing scenes without any regard for logic or time.

But the true challenge began when morning arrived.

Awake, you tried to share these magical, winding epics with the people around you. You wanted them to see the vivid colours and feel the immense scope of your nighttime journeys. Instead, you were met with blank stares, confusion, or the dismissive, frustrating response: "I don't dream."

As you tried to explain the unexplainable, the stories moved too fast, and the listeners struggled to keep up. That is where the black ball lived. It represented the heavy, exhausting effort of trying to translate a limitless inner cosmos into the rigid structure of human speech. It felt like bouncing erratically, completely lost behind the harsh, upright lines of social acceptance. Those strict vertical bars—one a striking orange, the others a stark, uncompromising black—stood like an unyielding fence. They were the societal boundaries, the barriers of what is considered "normal" or rational conversation.

From the black sphere, thin, dark cracks spread out like roots or lightning bolts across the canvas, desperately reaching toward the vibrant colours and crossing over the barriers. Even when trapped behind the social codes of the waking world, the profound magic of the dream world could never be fully contained. It would always break through, reminding you that your inner world is vast, beautiful, and wonderfully untamed.