MY ART'S IN THE MUSEUM, ALL RIGHT
Dreamed 1996/2/19 by Chris Wayan
I'm biking through Golden Gate Park to the De Young Museum. It looks closed, the lights are off; but the front door's open. I peer in. A couple of street people with a shopping cart are selling stuff in the lobby! An old thin black woman, and a vague white guy with a beard. They're regulars here, but usually they're just outside, begging. Today, somehow, the staff can't keep them out. I look at their wares, spread on the museum floor. They're selling art.
They're selling MY art.
I see two paintings, Lean on Me and Silky Crosses the Atlantic, two pastels, Andromeda and Through the Animal Orgy to Spirit City, and some silk banners like Oriole Girl...
Every image is from a dream. They're selling my dreams!
At junk prices, too.
My first thought is, are they fencing for burglars, or did they scavenge art someone threw out? Either way, is my room ransacked? Is ALL my stuff on the street?
I ask how much they want for them. They say "$25 each."
I say "I want a discount if I buy them all. I'll give you..." I'm thinking $100. It's true. I'm going to buy my own art back rather than call the cops or the museum staff!
Do I feel sorry for these two? They always felt okay to me. I'm pretty sure they're not the thieves. But I'd tell the cops that, so they wouldn't get in any serious trouble... Don't I WANT the real thief caught?
What's wrong with me?
NOTES WHEN I WAKE
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