Finding Home, Chapter 11; Being Discovered

Being Discovered October 9, 2018

I had two dreams today.

The first had something to do with being in hiding, in a way. I was travelling and living in my car. It was important I was not noticed or to stand out in any way. I was at the beginning of my journey, because I didn’t have enough supplies to remain hidden for long.
I remember thinking I needed to acquire a wash tub like one we used while living in our truck on our walkabout. This dream was influenced by my trying to make a coffee yesterday without the proper tools, it didn’t work and it tasted awful.
There was significant fear associated with an incident where someone saw me going in and out of a room in an abandoned house. I had trained Mali to stay quiet when someone approached, but still someone had seen me and I was concerned about the obvious things, like theft, or a confrontation, but also about what he’d say and who he would tell I was here. I knew I had to move again.

The second dream was giving me a clue that connects me to my mother. This was totally unexpected, but it is quite important which is why I’m up at 2:30 am to write it down so I don’t forget any more.
I was with Patrick in a place I didn’t recognize, once again it seemed as if we were on the move. I had met another artist and wanted him to meet Patrick, but also wanted him to see my artwork without telling him I was an artist. So I contrived a situation where he would have to come up to our apartment which was above his and see my work without much introduction.
For reasons I do not understand there were paintings in the apartment which came with the place. It was those I copied and I wanted to see if he felt I did a reasonable job, see if he could tell which one was mine. He saw the first piece, a raven, then he began to look around and see what else was in the room. There were two images of Burton Cummings and once again he asked which one came with the apartment and which one was my version. When I told him which was mine he gave a low whistle, still not saying much. This was when I awoke and realized there was something very important about my art and its style (I think) which opened his eyes.
A few moments after laying here and thinking about his reaction, it occurred to me that my mother was an artist and a ballerina, as was I. I figured long ago my dancing was a threat, but did not take into consideration my artistic style could also be a connection to her. Do I perhaps have a similar style to hers and in this dream, this man recognized it.?
I have never seen any of her artwork so would not recognize her style, and I cannot be certain if it is relevant. This dream seems just to give me hope of another connection to my mother.