I return home and see the door open and a group of Danes there. I realize they are robbing my place and talk to them and explain my situation. (My health situation, don’t have much income and only the most necessary belongings etc.) The ones I talk with seem to understand and they return some of what they have taken. After they leave, the neighbors over me say they recognized one of the men as a famous artist and the others as part of the community around him. I also talk to someone who recognized them because he has studied and written about their art. He tells me who they are but is not willing to testify. As he leaves, the art scholar points to a painting that hangs in a gallery across from my place. It’s large and is a kind of ice berg made up of colorful cubes.
Earlier in the dream, I live somewhere else than I do in waking life, perhaps somewhere in Europe. When I return home and find them in the process of robbing my place, it’s where I live in waking life. And when I talk with the neighbor and the art scholar and writer, it’s in Denmark, probably Copenhagen. The painting is good but not the type of art I resonate with them most.
My home is robbed by artists. They haven’t taken much, and they return some before they leave. They seem reasonable and friendly enough. I get the impression they have some anger against the ones they perceive as bourgeoisie. When I talk with them, they realize I don’t really fit into that category as they see it, so they soften a bit.
Also, it’s interesting that artists rob me since I was an artist in my late teen and early twenties, thought that would be my life path, and have some moments of slight discomfort when I remember and what may have been.
As I am about to wake out of the dream, I sense that it’s the artist parts of me that are resentful because they are rarely in use in my life now. They rob me to get attention. I didn’t get the sense that they robbed me because they needed to. It was more out of resentment of the person they thought I was – more bourgeoisie.
I wish to bring the artist parts of me more out and in use. And I am aware that I appear more bourgeoisie – in clothing and otherwise – than I am.
When we are authentic, we natural straddle the conventional and the more unconventional and even radical.