Ever wondered what dreams are made of? You, too?
Where they actually come from, those and such, that we dream so vividly, that after we wake up, we only hardly realize the truth around? And where do they go, when they seemed to have disappeared long ago, and all of sudden, after time, they sneak out from our memory stores, so clear and striking as ever before, and we just know, they are a part of us?
And how about our shadowy and deceptive ourselves, the illusive lives we live, or imagine to be in, the very experiences of the fantastic?
Can we truly be both here and there? Can we have them both, and still be happy as we are?
As children, didn’t we imagine being a part of beautiful fanciful worlds? When did it all stop, and why?Where have those worlds gone, and what was wrong with them that they wouldn’t appear back to us, or we wouldn’t let them back again?
Or is it that we just keep them strictly for our quietest ourselves, not admitting there had any ever been?
I could ask another dozen of questions, as silly as they may sound, as notional as their subjects may be, with as much unreal sense as they can give – to anyone who’s “grown – up” already, who does not look back, and who, perhaps, doesn’t need them, or, whose life is “too real” to turn to them.
I would never like to leave my dreams behind. And yet, all I often come across are just traces.
Might be, I don’t allow myself to them, or, as well, I am not allowed to them.
And am probably not the only one.
Very many thanks to the wonderful models A. & B. R. who let me have a photo session with them and share the images with my viewers.