Friday, August 18, 2006


Because I am entirely useless at writing fiction I was most amused at what my unconscious and subconscious conspired to bring me this morning. It was one of those dreams right before the alarm wakes you which has you in such a deep sleep state you feel like you have been drugged when you are awakened. Anyway, what it amounts to is I had the ultimate photography dream and because of the enormity of my dorkiness (mingled with the fact that last night was rather tedious, though uneventful and lacking in new photos), I am going to share some highlights.

nightvision © Laura Kicey

It took place mostly at an abandoned church where some sort of meeting was going to take place. The mother of the groom of the wedding I just shot was there. And in a panicked state. Apparently someone had just discovered a freshly murdered body in the church basement. So naturally I had to go down into the (curiously well-lit) catacombs of the church. Which were filled with fantastic mannequins and antiques, coincidentally.

seaside © Laura Kicey

Befuddled, but not finding a body, I tried to take some shots of the mannequins, but was feeling a little shaky as I had just come from some party where someone was making me do shots to celebrate getting my show. I was going to have someone drive me home and I went outside to get into the back seat of my car. Two guys got in the front seat and we all just sat there until I asked them what was up. They said I knew. Hand over your thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment, we know you have it. They pulled out what I first thought was a gun. Then I realized...

it was a comb.

wrong turn
wrong turn © Laura Kicey

I seized the comb. And ran/fell out of the car with them yelling at me. I burst back into the church yelling someone just tried to rob me. And who is there but the very embodiment of cool, John Curley. Vines had overgrown part of the church lobby in a marvellous fashion since I had left and John, to calm me, suggested he might paint some red vines on my legs and photograph me in the lobby. It was a bizarre proposition but seemed like a good idea. Before the paint had dried I had run off to an adjacent abandoned industrial building (I mean what better place for an abandoned industrial structure than next to an overgrown abandoned church, c'mon?) and saw all these reporters (who incidentally are ones I know and need to talk to about the press release for my show) walking around 'looking for clues'.

And then I woke up. And I didn't even get to look at my shots.

I am currently reliving this dream in attempts to distract from obsesso-checking my inbox to see if any of the newspapers got back to me. Which they have yet too. Freaking. Out.


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