“Took this picture today on August 2, 2014, about three hours before rain finally kissed this parched Southern California township cradled by the San Gabriels. There was some instinct I had to run into “the garden where I live”–so I describe the place I inhabit and rent from–and take photos in the evening. My landcomrades (wonderful landlords who share space) called me outside when they felt the first droplets of rain later this evening. I told them how the night before I had dreamt a storm swept in and flooded the house and how the ceiling became a concave, soggy depression, and the rain gorgeously poured down. My small studio was the ruins of a skylit cathedral and the rain refracted various kinds of light. The architecture held up, and the only thing that mattered was the beauty of it all. There was no worry about shelter or finances.
“Without thinking of it today, I wandered the garden with the svelte Russian Blue-looking cat and took some pictures. I don’t think he and I have ever bonded so much before. Unconsciously–unconscious to my atheism–I prayed for rain. So the photo I share–remember, three hours before the little prophecy was fulfilled. Why not say my dream predicted it? Be playful with magical thinking. Why not say that the storm of the dream was the drizzle of Saturday?” he said.