Ink, 14 x 17", from a lost 1980s dream by Chris Wayan
Not what you think--I dreamed of a big brown paper bag full of wind. I didn't even think of "windbag" since it didn't talk a bit--it was all action. Fierce flying magic!
The moment the bag was opened a bit, it took off like a rocket--blew me right up the mountain, up a cliff through the stinging tops of pines, to the summit... Mr. Aeoleus' Wild Ride.
Can mere speaking up really lead me to the top?
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