Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Sarah Fairchild - Dream Book
Page One - The Inspiration | Page Two - First Dream | Page Three - Poetry

Life is a mystery
Dreams are the key

Prologue:

It was in Colorado Springs that I found the necklace.  A small gallery on a side street off the main was featuring western artists and I wandered in; not really shopping, just sight seeing. 

The necklace caught my eye immediately.  Nestled amongst the trays of turquoise and sterling was a string of round rose quarts beads.  They were luminous in the sunlight that streamed through the window on that hot Colorado afternoon.  Each bead seemed to have depth and softeness; like the lustre of pearls.  The beads were spaced with tiny sparkling lilac and teale crystals; hanging from the center was a large quartz crystal topped by a simple silver bead.  The quartz crystal was raw; not polished or cut.  It was as it came out of the ground; small flaws and a fine spiraling silver inclusion.

As the gallery owner opened the display case he told me that it was only the third piece he'd had from that designer and that it had come into the gallery that morning.  The designer was a woman from Oregon, Kathleen Klooster.  He said that she was a somewhat reclusive and mysterious individual who had actually turned down a prestigous design award that spring rather than travel to San Francisco to accept it.  He said that her pieces came into his gallery from a a buyer in Eugene, Oregon and despite his repeated request for additional pieces, her production was very limited.

Needless to say, I bought the necklace immediately even though it was priced far beyond my means at that time.  From that day until this, the necklace has been my inspiration; the quartz beads are comforting as they rest on my skin; the quartz pendant is warm to the touch and inspires my dreams...

Dreaming of Eagles
 
I'm in a small town somewhere on the Pacific coast.  The houses are old, weathered and all are painted grey.  They face a road that follows the ocean shore.  Overhead is a grid of electric and telephone wires; the kind that we saw in the fifties laced over multiple cross bars.  I was with an old man and we walked slowly up the road.  I want to walk in the sand but the old man shakes his head rather sadly; he can no longer keep his balance in the sand.
 
Suddenly the wind begins to blow and the wires above begin to hum.  The humming turns into clear notes sounding like a harp.  I stand with my face upturned in wonder; I've never heard such a thing. A lone eagle appears in the sky and begins playing in the wind.  He flies strongly then lowers his wings to twirl and glide.  I notice that his movements are in time with the music coming from the wind in the wires.  The old man's eyes watch the eagle too and he frowns as he watches. 
 
The old man stares at me silently for a moment and then says.  "Pay attention to this moment." 
 
I am puzzled.  I don't understand.
 
 Looking directly into my eyes, in a very commanding way, the old man nods and says "It has begun." 
 
I feel both apprehensive and awed.  I am aware of the crystal laying on my breast bone.  The crystal burns and vibrates with the music of the wires.  I'm aware of the crystal in my dream.
 
Suddenly I'm awake and the crystal is still hot.
 
July 1, 2002  Eugene, Oregon

August, 2002  On a day trip between Eugene, Oregon and Ashland, Oregon I am forced by car trouble to pull off I-5 and stop in Canyonville, Oregon.