Results 1 to 20 of 126 for stemmed:scene
Scene 1—At an art gallery supposed to be the Arnot. A woman is in trouble from taking drugs. I talk to her sympathetically, give a terrific dissertation on art, its therapeutic qualities, and use as a natural high. Lots of people around.
Scene 2—Office of large corporation. On phone a man makes appointment to take me to dinner to discuss giving me an excellent position but I can’t hear him properly and got to another office to check time, etc. I’m in line for a great job… walk with other women thinking how amazed Rob will be if I take it or get it… and that it would be good for me to mix with people for a change. I haven’t said anything about being a writer… they might figure I don’t need the work… think that it’s full-time though and briefly wonder how I could handle that with writing.
Scene 3—These same women, myself, and at least one man are hiding though I don’t remember why. We’re in a large storage building. Some men, maybe police, come in and we hide in the shadows; a door beside is going to open so we get down and drag ourselves on our bellies to another door at the end of the room to hide in the shadows. The man with us may have his hands in shackles or something; I have to help him climb over some walls. As we move toward door shadows, almost same, I see one woman carrying Rob’s landscape (the one in our bedroom) pushing it ahead of her. When we almost have it made one woman says to hell with it, she can’t take it another minute; she’s just going to stand up and show herself no matter what. I’m furious at her. Rob wakens me.
[...] The art dream (of June 3), as I call it, has its opening scene in an art gallery, which represents a conventionalized view of art. [...]
In the first scene in the gallery he is explaining with some eloquence the mental and physical benefits of art, and its action as providing “a natural high.” [...]
The second scene takes place in a large office building that represents the world and its usual pursuits. [...]
Timewise and symbolically, the third scene brings us to the point where Ruburt is determined to defend his art, his dedication, to such an extent that he hides from the world, and symbolically crawls on his belly, all the while seeking to escape the dilemma by finding an open door, or by hiding from pursuers in the shadows. [...]
When you have done this, ask yourself which scene evokes the strongest emotional response. [...] Certain dynamics are involved here, so that such a scene will also attract elements from other scenes. Allow those other scenes to break up, then. The main picture will attract elements from all of the others, until you end up with an entirely different picture — one made up of many of the smaller scenes, but united in an entirely new fashion. [...]
[...] First of all, see them as a series of scenes, arranged in small squares, to be viewed as you would, say, a comic-book page. [...]
(10:58.) Sometime as you walk down a street, pretend that you are seeing the same scene from the sky in an airplane, yourself included. [...]
Dictation (whispering). Now, if you take a physical camera with you today and snap pictures as you go about your chores, walk, or talk with friends, then you will have preserved scenes from the day’s activities.
[...] The photographer in the dream world, though, will find an entirely different situation, for there consciousness can capture scenes from entirely different times as easily as the waking photographer can take pictures of different places. [...]
The same applies in the dream state; but there, the shadows of your thoughts may be projected outward into scenes of darkest desolation. [...]
Take any remembered scene from your own past. [...] Sometime, immediately or after a few tries, a particular portion of the scene will become gray or shadowy. [...]
[...] Instead of any of those things, the imagined dialogue — if there is any — may suddenly change from the dialogue that you remember; or the entire scene and action may quickly alter. Any of these occurrences can be hints that you are beginning to glimpse the probable variations of the particular scene or action. [...]
[...] (Pause.) This method is even more effective if you choose from your past a scene in which a choice was involved that was important to you.
[...] Some of the Old Masters were adept at painting scenes of violence, warfare, sagas, with dark and dreary atmospheres, yet each so filled at the same time with life and vitality that the canvases themselves seemed alive. [...]
[...] When you look at the great world picture before you in space and time, look at it as you would a multidimensional worldscape, painted by some artist who was all of the great masters in one; and behind the scenes of destruction and conflict, feel the great energy that in itself denies the destruction that is in that case so cleverly depicted.
[...] I know that now the scene will not happen this Thanksgiving in physical reality — that I have helped choose another more positive one. The scene ends. [...]
I half waken and then drift into a recurring scene from an old childhood dream: There is a killer fog behind us, and we must get down a snowy path to home before the fog gets us. [...] I go back into the snow scene. [...]
Suddenly I am yanked away from this scene, and Carl [Sue’s husband] and I are sitting in a large room with Jane as Seth. [...]
[...] Seth then says that I can do the whole scene over by a simple method of stepping sideways into physical reality; he tells me that this is easier than I might suppose.
[...] An uneasy December followed — bitter and dreary and discouraging on the national scene — and locally the weather was dark, with snow piled high. [...]
For me, the episode was amazingly vivid, the scenes clear and bright in my mind’s eye. [...]
[...] I would think that I was telling Rob about each scene as I saw it, but then he would ask a question, and I’d realize that I hadn’t said a word for some time.
“What crops did they grow?” he asked, and I tried to rouse myself enough to keep on speaking while still retaining focus on these strange shifting scenes.
[...] A great painting of a battle scene, for example, may show the ability of the artist as he projects in all its appalling drama the inhuman and yet all-too-human conditions of war. [...]
The artist who paints such a scene may do so for several reasons: because he hopes through portraying such inhumanity to awaken people to its consequences, to make them quail and change their ways; because he is himself in such a state of disease and turmoil that he directs his abilities in that particular manner; or because he is fascinated with the problem of destruction and creativity, and of using creativity to portray destruction.
[...] There was evidently strong telepathic/clairvoyant communication with another student when this occurred, for as Ruburt, Jane, while conscious, described a certain ancient scene set about a campfire; Jane and her student, also female, described the same scene. Jane saw the scene clearly, and among other facts realized that in this ancient time both she and the student were existing as males in that life. [...]
(I seemed to have the ability to shift my focus so as to see more of the scene. [...]