Ten dots in ten rows.
After recording my dream in my dream journal, I worked on this page in my small sketchbook— it was sitting by the window catching moonlight. Grace is the yellow moon resting on my notebook; a triangle of light casting the first word. © Laurie Doctor
Last night I dreamed of dots in a row, ten dots in ten rows, evenly spaced. So simple. The feeling in the dream was one of order — and took me once again to the Greek story of Psyche faced with a roomful of seven kinds of seeds all mixed together, floor to high ceiling. Aphrodite grabbed her violently by the hair and threw her down on the ground and said: “Separate all these seeds— wheat, barley, poppy seeds, peas, lentils, and beans— into piles. Sort them by nightfall, or death.” This story remains resonant first of all because it illustrates that when we are overwhelmed what we are facing does seem impossible. It also reflects what happens in my studio: chaos to order, order to chaos — and is a reminder that chaos is necessary to order, to creation. Breakthroughs happen often after many trials. It also summons my courage in the face of being overwhelmed, as Psyche was, by what seems impossible but is resolved by help from an unexpected place.
Each journal that I keep is some kind of record of this pattern— pages of chaos and columns of order:
I gathered my various kinds of journals— big sketchbook, pocket sketchbook (“Not a day without a line”), diary, pocket notes and dream journal. Then I saw I left out my “noticing book” (right) which is a 5 year diary— and stays by my window. There’s 5 small spaces on each page— a great format for a quick note like “the bluebirds are busy feeding their second brood”. The idea of sharing these journals with you was inspired by my compulsion to sort, by my dreams and by another journal-keeper I admire, Austin Kleon.
© Laurie Doctor Sketchbooks
Somehow the chaos of piled-on tasks— painting, writing, online class, new classes, garden, oh and laundry, dishes— was all sorted out in my dream; all organized into rows of dots. The miracle of dreams. This one had the quality of mythic order made accessible. What had looked so difficult seemed less so. This dream came just after the one of driving into a farm and being asked: “Are you here to plant all this garlic?” I glanced around and saw uncountable piles of garlic cloves stacked in every direction. “Yes, I said, I am here to plant.” You can see how transparent my dream life is.
This morning I said to myself, you must write down the dot dream even before you meditate, so it doesn’t get away. I sat at my writing table and saw in front of me the dot template from my German students, and without thinking, plopped it onto the bottom of a page in my dream book. I marked dots according to what would fit on that page— and when I counted the dot pattern I made from the template it was ten rows of ten— what I could just fit at the bottom of another dream. The synchronicity of this pattern with my dream started my day with that open feeling of wonder, and let’s see what shows up next and I can do this. It was a confirmation of the practice of giving something small and insignificant, like a row of dots, my slow, unfettered attention.
Joyful attention of watching sandpipers on the sand. © Laurie Doctor (small sketchbook)
I understand the dots in a row, not as any final sense of order, but a glimpse of order that can give ground to the necessity (and sometimes overwhelm) of chaos, of creativity. Begin with what is small and easy to dismiss, and follow this hint as if it is part of a trail of crumbs — follow it and you will be led to a larger pattern. This is often what happens when I do something in the daylight to honor my dream. It reminds me to seize opportunity in chance events. It is what happens in my studio on a good day. Allegiance to the liminal world is at the heart of all meaningful poetry, music, painting and teaching.
In my last post on imagination, I mentioned staying current with your dream life. I remember Joseph Campbell saying this, and it seems ever more urgent now. Our attention is almost exclusively directed outward toward information and sped up images. Faster and faster and faster.
We are flooded with images that come from screens, not dreams. Images that come from dreams are from another place, of a different order. Someone can try to take the painting you make of your dream, but no one can take your dream. Dream images have a kind of power that cannot be reached by the measurable, mechanical means of the exterior world.
From my Tarot Dream Series © Laurie Doctor
There are many urgent tasks we must attend to, and so little time. Therefore we must slow down.
— Zen Master
Pointed brush & sumi ink on paper | Text attributed to a Zen Master | © Laurie Doctor
Below is a video showing me brush lettering the Zen master quote and working on a large painting.
Glimpse from my studio:
Do you get insights from your dreams? What kinds of journals do you keep?
I’d love to hear from you.
Note: I do not use AI for text or for images, I just struggle through to find words and to make with my hands a painting or a sketch.
Coming Events:
I have been invited to teach at a private ocean side estate in the Outer Banks, North Carolina. April 25-30, 2027. A percentage of the proceeds will go to La Romita School of Art in Umbria. Details and registration here.
Join me at Madeline Island this fall, September 20 - 25, 2026. Register here.
Thank you to each one of you who has helped make it possible for a student to attend class who would otherwise not be able to. Donate any amount here.
Featured Artist:
This month’s featured artist is Barbara Courtney — she adds depth and thoughtfulness to her visual work with her skill as a writer. In her words: “I search for a perfect word much as I search for a perfect shade of red.” See more of her unique work and read her writing here:
© Barbara Courtney