i was walking the grounds of an old olympic park, when i saw a small crew painting something along the eaves of a roof’s edge of an open forum.
it was like a large curl of a circular wall with about 35 degrees cut out to create the opening in the wall. then there was a curved roof overhead with a hole cut out in the top center of it in the shape of a serene oval, then another roof escalated over the hole with supports. shafts of light beamed into the space bright and soft.
as i got closer, i realized that the thing that was being painted was a whale statue.
then i realized i was in germany or austria.
one man was standing on the fourth rung from the bottom of this orange ladder and painting the underbelly of the whale statue/carving with a medium wide paintbrush on the end of a long wooden stave. his fellow crewman was telling him that he needed to get a bigger brush and move closer, but the painter disregarded that sentiment.
i had my camera and i wanted to photograph the whale.
a tour group entered the space led by an amish tour guide, and they all got in the way of the perfect shot. i waited patiently for a woman in a red tactical north face jacket to get her shot; she talked excitedly with her mother who was nearby, but was paying attention to the tour guide.
after they moved and i got the shot, i looked around the inner walls, and noticed they were all covered with lush green ivy; a living wall which breathed in and out.
i saw a table set up on the far side of the space and walked over to them; there were a lot of informational brochures.
one of the women from the museum i freelance for was at the table and she asked me if i got the letter. “what letter?” i asked back. “the letter from that woman,” she said.
they were trying to set me up on a date, and i was thankful, but didn’t receive a letter.
i walked out of the area and down to a clear open lake where all the tourists were swimming with their children.
then i woke up.