What If All Dreams Came True

Fireworks3-2[1]The morning sun shone through the rift of the blinds one morning, and my semi-conscious mind must have processed the red-eyelid-grid it saw as the fret-board of a cosmic stringed instrument. I began hearing the most beautiful music I have ever heard, as my mind’s eye watched each glistening sun-ray pluck the strings. I remember being astonished by its dexterity, and melodic perfection. Upon awakening, I tried to duplicate the notes I had heard, and saw, on my guitar—If only I could remember them note for note.— From what little I was able to remember, and attempt to simulate on the fret-board, the notes seemed impossible to play in one key. Almost as if each note came from one of the 24 individual keys of the musical spectrum. It totally seemed to of been an impossible dream— But, what if all dreams came true?  I thought, and then it was gone…Fireworks1[1]

I was standing on a sea-shore, in some far away place beyond the familiar sea, where nothing looked real, or resonated with me. There were neon colors, and bird-like creatures. Lifelike, but surreal. I perceived them with all 5 senses at once. I felt, tasted, heard, smelled, and saw them — from one sense of awareness — at once. I wanted to talk to them, so I tried to open my mouth, instead my eyes opened. And I awakened. It was over…                                                         What if all dreams came true?728px-Cairina_moschata_head_norway-1[1]
I heard the phone ring as I was walking in through a large glass door leading to a hallway between two rows of desks occupied by dogs with huge human like grins, when suddenly one of them leaped out at me and said…     “You Won The Lottery”  —  But, then, of course, I woke up. doggrinningsoapoprah11[1]
I dreamed I was in a terrible hurricane, worse than any of the ones I’ve experienced first hand on the Carolina coast. It was terrifying. Water started moving in beneath my feet, and gradually rose to the level of my chin. Suddenly, a tidal wave came crashing over me, the town, and everyone, and everything, as far as I could see. And, then I woke up — But, what if every dream really did come true? Or. What if some really are warnings? What if we knew that every dream would come true? What If every dream did come true?buildingrestorationsnobridge2[1]





Graphic Images by TylaMac

Tidal Wave Image by devourerofsouls 

Grinning Dog ?



“Voices From the Marsh ” 2015 #2

The spine-tingling cry pierced a hole in her sanity, and she knew she wouldn’t survive the night. “What could make such a bloodcurdling sound, with such defining pitch, and sonancy?” She asked herself.

From the ancient, hollowed oak tree, she had ducked in to hide, Samantha Hellman, dared not move a muscle. Lying there on the cold, damp, ground inside the tree’s opening, Samantha, a skilled scuba diver, and long distance swimmer, nearly lost consciousness before letting her lungs purge her near – hyperventilation causing breath.

The night was still, with a harvest moon hovering eerily over-head. Not only could Samantha hear every beat her heart pumped, but, was sure anything that could make the kind of sounds she was hearing, most likely heard it beating as well. “Can probably even hear my eye lids close” she thought, trying her best not to blink.

“In my 27 years on this earth,” Samantha silently reasoned, “I’ve never heard anything like whatever that is out there tonight—not just the screeching, I remember that sound well, but there’s something else out there.” 

Starting as a low moaning, monotonous hum, and instantly rising to a nerve jerking shriek, the creature seemed to have more than one voice deep inside. “Maybe it’s possessed, or filled with more than one spirit,” she thought, as the roar seemed to take on two uniquely resonant locations of origin.

The moan turned shrill. As sharp, and cutting as a scythe. And yet, somehow, simultaneously, she heard a strange comforting low tone resonating as if from somewhere on another side of the universe. “Only it’s much closer”, she thought.  Pulsating the very ground she was lying on. But unlike the bloodthirsty, bone chilling screams, —the deeper roar emitted comfort, and solace.  like a bell ringing to guide her out of a dark foggy night. Deafening, shattering, excruciatingly ominous—and—yet—in perfect harmony. Culminating somewhere in the middle. Deep, vibrato, bellowing beneath the shrillness of an atrocious scream. It sounded like a war of love between two different creatures, howling, cooing, screeching, in agony. “Blissful Agony?” she thought.

Samantha felt—it must all be coming from one voice—one entity… Some entity, or—some—thing? “I’ve heard it before—I think, I must have, but where,— and when?”

Listening intently, again holding her breath, as the early morning  sun stabbed a blinding beam in through the opening of the tree she’d spent the night fearing for her life in, Samantha felt more at peace. It wasn’t just because the night had ended and turned to-day, she thought. “There’s something else.” Something she couldn’t explain.

“The perfect conflict”  Samantha said, almost aloud, beginning to feel she could no longer keep quiet. It was as if something was growing inside of her emotionally… Something screaming to get out. Something that made her feel safe.

“A melodic Arpeggio!” she almost sang, as the ground beneath her began to tremble and shake. She’d barely noticed the trimmers till the shrieks and moans took on accompaniment of thunderous footsteps of Behemoth proportions.

Now. She couldn’t contain herself, even as the sound of the steps reverberated through the tree that was her only protection. Though sounding as if some gigantic monster was stomping just outside her oak tree fortress, Samantha was completely oblivious. Comfortably numb—totally—serene…

But, not quiet.

“A cacophonous crescendo of beauty and noise!” She shouted.

At that precise moment, Samantha realized she’d been wrong to think the sounds she’d heard the creature making earlier were the worst sounds she could ever imagine…

At that precise moment Samantha undeniably heard the worst sound her 27-year-old memory would readily divulge.

At that precise moment she knew fear like she had never known before. From the sound.

The deafening sound.

of silence.

Suddenly something ran by the opening of the tree. It ran so fast Samantha couldn’t even begin to recognize what it was. But she heard its shrill scream, and snarling growl, and knew deep down that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And then there were more of them, and more…and suddenly one grabbed for her inside the crevice, and the ground shook even more.

But, just as the soothing roar bellowed an almost deafening decibel, Samantha felt the ground move beneath her. It made her feel dizzy. She began to feel the wind rushing in, and suddenly realized that the refuge she’d mistaken for a hollowed out tree — was suddenly taking flight.



A group of towns people had gathered on the street in front of the old newspaper office, back on main street, listening as one man read the latest paper hot off the press.

“A local woman went missing last evening around 8 o’clock, according to witnesses. “I saw her trailing off into the woods off main street, said one witness, after hearing strange noises from the saw mill road area.” The witness, who chooses to remain anonymous at this time, said that he also, and several other citizens heard the noises, and could only describe the sound as: “Nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was a shrill scream, and a very loud roaring sound. Quite frightening it was.” The witness said. The young lady, a Miss Samantha J. Hellman had made earlier claims of being lured into the woods following strange noises. In her earlier reports, according to her friends and family, Miss Hellman, said she came face to face with some atrociously monstrous looking creatures that made advances to try to capture her. According to the reports, Miss Hellman, managed to escape the creatures by running away, just as she heard another deeper, rumbling kind of sound, from where she could not say. Miss Hellman claimed that as she ran away, she turned briefly only to see the creatures running away from her direction, while staring in apparent shock, and awe, at something up in the sky. When asked who, or what she thought the creatures she had seen might have been, Miss Hellman promptly answered: “They were the Marsh People.”

The Marsh people, according to local legend, were the ancient predecessors of the Island. A band of giants. And as legend has it, accursed for killing all the dragons on the island hundreds of years before. Many of the town folk believed they had passed that curse on to the new settlers of the island, and that they too were accursed. Through the years dozens of people had gone missing from the island after being led into the woods following strange sounds. The few who had survived with any soundness of mind at all, told the same terrifying, death-defying tale of being attacked—by a group of atrocious giant beings, called—The Marsh People.

LOOK! The newspaper boy shouted, pointing up into the sky. As everyone’s attention veered, squinting into the air trying to shade off the glare of the morning sun, with their newspapers, hats, and hands, a scene of uproar, and confusion ensued. Women screamed, men shouted,  cries of “What is that thing?” were heard from among the entire Main street vicinity, and mayhem.

People ran under awnings, and into doorways of all the shops lining the street seeking cover. The paper boy shouted. “It’s  a  Dragon!” just as the creature came swooping down, landing in the middle of the street, and politely stretching out one wing to reveal Samantha Hellman, sitting pretty, perched on the left forearm safely behind one of the dragons talons, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Samantha Calmly stepped off the Dragon’s leg, as everyone stared in amazement, and slowly poked their heads out from their hiding places to try to see what was going to happen next.

“It’s okay everyone!,” Samantha beamed, “The dragon has slain the Marsh people.”

Screaming Eagle Dream Catcher

Wut? ─ I made a Fisherman’s “Dream” catcher with a mermaid in the net… it sold…

Screaming Eagle is surely more Native than that… right? Even if it is a 2005 Harley-Davidson “Screaming Eagle” Fat-Boy…

“Ride On “

2005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0102005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0052005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0042005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0032005 screaming eagle dream catcher 005

Wooden Cross Dream Catcher

Some say putting the Cross inside a dream catcher is sacrilege.  I  disagree. There are probably as many legends of which tribal people made the first dream catcher as there are stories of how, and why, they came about. Odds-are, there are probably as many stories throughout Native America of where the idea came from as there are styles of dream catchers.

I enjoy hearing the stories,─ love seeing, ─and making the art. But I seriously doubt even the first person to weave a dream catcher truly believed they would trap bad dreams in the web while allowing only good dreams through the hoop to trickle down the feathers into their sleeping thoughts at night.

And regardless of whether the night air is  filled with flying spirits we know as dreams, or, whether a talking spider gave the secret of dream-weaving to a sweet little old grandma centuries past or not; To me─they are beautiful works of art.

Personally.  I figure someone was sitting by a warm fire, weaving themselves, or their husband, a nice set of  snowshoes for the next days hunt, when one of their children’s blood curdling scream, brought on by a nightmare, pierced the peaceful night ambiance.

They probably ran to the child’s side, snowshoe project in hand, laid it down, and after holding, and consoling the child long enough to calm their senses, picked the hoop back up, began weaving a soothing bed-time story, and realized they were no longer making a shoe… but, a “Dream Catcher

Nighty-night Y’all ─  sleep well now.

Brendas Dream Catcher #2 009Brendas Dream Catcher #2 011Brendas Dream Catcher #2 012Brendas Dream Catcher #2 010Brendas Dream Catcher #2 008

5″ Brass Ring wrapped in dark brown nabbed suede leather, with foiled translucent bead, large turquoise bead, and acryli-turquoise shell bead set in a hand-made wooden cross. Overall length from top of ring to tip of feathers is 12.”

( Coming Soon) 19th century E. Ingraham Clock ( Time Sender Time Machine) steampunk art project

Acting Residual Soul

Terrified, he ran to cross the road, leaving behind foreboding abode.

Never looked back from then till now, the house in the shadow of creak and howl.

Only the memory could haunt him still, he left the spirit behind until,crossing the street met evil did he, no will to turn, nowhere to flee.

Quickly descending  rathskeller beneath, the man at the door his portion bequeathed.

Je ne sais quoi notably exuded , So let the doorman bear what evil intruded.

Suddenly shaken aft slamming door, paralyzed in fear of appalling  horror, as the doorman transfigured to lusus naturae.

What abhorrence crept in that cold misty night? Trapping him in  his own selfish plight?

Nothing is known from that moment till now, of the man from the house of creak and  howl.

Some say he was eaten, or buried alive.Others say he’s the          statue,self  petrified, but of certainty his spirit remains… evil it was indeed.                                                                                                                                



Stehouwer & Recio


Oh Where Is Mistress Muse ?

             Mistress Muse is a Sassy Lass

                    Blows in on the Wind leaves Twice as fast

              Best Be Plumed Quill in Hand

                    An  Erect Easel, with Keyboard  Manned

                  Else, Her Aura flutters Away.  

                 Self Phenomed Foolish Pride?

                   We Can’t be Distracted, or Preoccupied

                Mistress  Muse Shares  Nada.

                    Paint it, Write it, or Devil Wears Prada

                  Other Valentine’s Her Prowl.

                                                               Like Moonbeams Twinkling

                   Through Tinted Glass, Mistress Rests

                    Non – Subservience Passed

                   Those Recognizing Gifts  Put to Use

                     Capture the Moment Not  A

                         Second To Lose , But,   

                        Oh, Where Is Mistress Muse?