So, I'm checking out a customer at one of the shops that features my
photography. There is a tall, slender, 40-ish woman standing in the background,
making eye contact with me every chance she gets. She is not unattractive, and
I'm entering my pre-stutter phase, which is held at bay only by the customers
I'm dealing with.
They depart. The woman steps to the counter and asks me if I'm Bob Whitmire. I
allow as how I am. She smiles warmly, exceedingly warmly, and, extending her
hand, says that she's been anxious to meet me. I make the appropriate noise,
but don't actually say anything for fear of tongue tangling. Alas, she was not
a groupie seeking contact with a minor regional photographer.
She said that several years ago, she had an exceptionally vivid dream that
awakened her in the middle of the night and drove her to make a drawing, a
skill, she says, she does not possess in any appreciable measure. She then went
on to say that a year later, she was in the shop, flipping through a rack of my
photos, when she came across one that matched her dream, and her drawing,
_exactly_. She bought it, took it home, and has it framed in her living room
where it reminds her of one of those moments some folks have from time to time
when some sort of connection happens that cannot be explained by
Newtonian/Cartesian views of the universe.
I asked her a number of questions, and discovered that she had not seen that or
any of my photos, nor had she ever heard of me. She had never been in the shop
or any other place in Maine that carried my work, and had not been on or near
my web site, nor had she ever been looking over he shoulder of anyone who had.
Neither had she ever been to the out of the way town where the photo was
taken.
The image came to her in a dream, was vivid enough for her to attempt to draw
it, and a year later she found an exact match, right down to all the telephone
wires, in a shop on the Midcoast of Maine.
This is the intro page on my site for the Winter gallery. It is the image she
saw in her dream.
http://www.bobwhitmire.com/page13/page13.html
Her name was Joy.
--Bob Whitmire
"Art is spooky"
www.bobwhitmire.com
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