Dreaming Large

image borrowed from sodahead.com

Dreaming Large

“My dream got bigger & bigger--and the box

got bigger than the message--than the Gospel.”

--Jim Bakker.

As a younger more gregarious man, I

     dreamed of putting together an Artist’s

         Colony, where fellowship, love, & creativity

     could flourish & co-mingle--but not in

an old warehouse firetrap like in the

urban artist clusters I had seen,

No, mine would be out in Puget

Sound on one of the smaller

islands, sprawling over a 100

acres, rife with wonderful forest

trails, walking distance to the

sparkling inland sea. The artist’s homes would

                       include dome houses, domiciles

                   built underground with sod & moss

               roves, mountain man log cabins, and

             ambitious tree houses with spider web

           catwalks connecting them, each with its

   own studio for sculptors, painters, musicians

actors, dancers, & writers.

My house would be on a high bluff overlooking

the colony, with a clear view over the top of the

pungent conifers of a lighthouse nearby, that

would be festooned with red & white stripes.

It would be 20,000 square feet,

    all on one level, with 15’ cathedral

        ceilings, several tall stained glass picture

                      windows with their brightly colored

                      depictions of orca pods, Roosevelt

                      elk, bald eagles, seahawks & gulls.

                       black bear, timber wolves, forests 

                       and beaches.

My wife and I would have a palatial bed chamber,

with separate bathrooms connected to a spa, 

cavernous walk-in closets, a canopy bed with

red & black velvet curtains, a tall functional fire

place, two red leather love seats, with no TV’s.

The monstrous kitchen    would have several kinds

of ovens, a plethora of     hanging brass pots and

pans, and a dinette          table for immediate 

family that adjoins            a huge King Arthur style

dining hall, complete        with several hand-carved

oak sideboards and a       humungous carved redwood

dining table that could      seat 30 guests. On the blond

paneled walls would         hang the Buttkus family crest,

sent from a German         castle, dozens of authentic

samurai & European        cavalry ornamental swords

& spears, interspersed     with weapons of the American

Old West, from buffalo      rifles to carbines.

Of course, there will be

a library laden with books,

movies, and music, adjoined

to a home theater with a

20 feet screen & Dolby

surround sound, that could

seat 50 people, with a glass

cabinet by the door that displays

real Oscars, Emmys, & SAG awards.

The roof of my rambling home would be fashioned like

a tall ship, with railings. thick masts, red & black sails

and large flags. Rising majestically out of the center of

the roof would be my personal circular Tower of Silence,

an apartment perched a hundred feet above the trees,

fitted with an elevator, the old fashioned kind taken from

a pioneer building in Seattle, with flashing lights atop it

to alert planes at night & a cell tower to power all the Wi-

Fi wonders below. This is my retreat,

                                         my office,

                                         my eagle’s nest,

                                         my den in the clouds,

                                         my writer’s space.

                                         my meditation space,

                                         my home for Muses,

                                         my cradle of creativity.

What good is great wealth--

if you don’t share with friends and

loving family?

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub