What Dreams are Made Of_Part Five: A Secret in the Sky.

His thoughts were brushed out in cobalt and rinsed in turpentine. The air in motion was a clear evening blue. A hand moved across the sky and the stars were stroked in titanium. A brown palette with brilliant spots of color rested against an iron easel with bright chrome braces.

He advanced slowly and then quickly stepped back; it was a technical maneuver that looked both serious and odd to anyone unacquainted. He squinted. Swiftly stepping forward for an instant, he skimmed the brush along the wooden panel. The moment was charged with such enormous energy that the universe seemed to pulse within the wooden handle and sable brush felt dipped in fire.

After room had been ordered, brushes cleaned and oils put in their place, he stood for a moment to survey his work. Though far from complete, he saw her clearly for the first time since she appeared in the window of his dream; floating against the deep blue in the light of an oil painted moon. Her gesture and countenance were compelling and filled him with awe. There was a secret hidden here, waiting to be discovered.

To be continued.