@8:12 am

Directive: How to be a successful business owner in my local community with my art and studio space.


I found myself outdoors sitting on silver metal bleachers with a small crowd of other people.  The bleachers were facing the race water way, which was an oval-shaped track around the edges of a small lake.   I was watching a group of kids on a platform area just opposite the other side of the lake-track nearest the bleachers. Boys and girls between the ages of 10-15 were being instructed by an adult to twist at their mid-sections and dip their knees down.  Once on the water, on a banana style pull raft, the respective knee would submerge about 5 to 6 inches or so off the side of the raft with the ‘twist and dip’ move. They were to alternate doing this: right, center, left, center, and so on holding each position for 3 to 5 second.

The group of about 9 kids were now getting onto their individual rafts by straddling them. The banana style rafts were attached in series to the back of the speed boat.  With all the kids on their rafts, the speed boat began to move forward maintaining a slower pace of around 10mph-15mph.  Each of the kids were doing the ‘twist and dip’ move now.  They all did the twist and dip with their right knee into the water, then the ‘twist and dip’ with their left knee into the water.  The water looked like it was very cold and I wondered if it was even Alaskan icy cold, as it seemed the water looked an icy deep clear blue-black color.

Someone in the bleachers commented how much that must hurt their knees, like a rug burn with ice or something. They went on to say that they’d done the twist and dips before too while going ‘fast’ and that putting their knees in the water like that really hurts.

The speed boat slowed now almost to a stop. The 12 year old boy in the very back of the line was having trouble staying on his raft.  His knee was still partially submerged into the lake water and his raft seemed like it was even possibly deflating on him. 

There was either another group of kids on the water, or this same group and they now had out a beach type ball that was a little more circus like. It was a light brown color possibly made of some type of slick leather with a whitish star on it. The kids playing with it in the water sorta over-shot-the-runway and the ball came and landed on the cement in front of the bleachers near where I was sitting in the front row.  I lightly kicked at it, barely moving it. I couldn’t grab it to pick it up and throw it back because both of my hands were holding onto something. One of my hands seemed to maybe be holding something, like a lunch tray and the other was hanging onto the surface of a seat or table to keep me from sliding off my seat.  

The small group of teenage boys to my left, also seated in the bleachers, wanted to play ball with the kids in the water. They wanted to toss it back and forth from the bleachers to the water and back again. I managed to stretch my body just enough, while holding onto everything, and barely nudge kicked the ball toward the boys so they could throw it back to the kids in the water. Since their hands weren’t all proverbially tied up.

I was now no longer holding things or holding onto a surface, and I wanted to know if the water was as cold as it seemed it’d be, or it was actually warm.  I got up and walked the few steps to the water’s edge and dipped my hand into the water.  It wasn’t cold, as I’d expected it to be, but it wasn’t warm either.  More like an outdoor pool water temperature in spring or summer in the shade sections. Satisfied, I went and sat back down at my bleacher seat.

The boy kids in the water really wanted me to play with them.  I wasn’t so sure they really wanted me to play with them and not someone else. The teenage boys to my left then said, “They want to play with you, you know.”  I said, “They want to play with me then?”  I was sort of interested but not really, as it seemed enough people were already playing with the boys in the water.

The teenage boys to my left now had the leather water ball and instead of throwing it back to the kids in the water, they began to just throw it back and forth amongst themselves.  I hadn’t expected them to keep the ball and play with it instead of throwing it back.

The speed boat began to slowly move forward again and pulling the kids.  So, they couldn’t really play with the ball now exactly anyways.  So, I thought maybe the boys outside the water were better off with the more circus style ball anyways.

I got up now from my bleacher seat and began to walk around.  There were various vendor booths spackled around and many under some type of square white canopy tent.  The booths areas had both a One Love Festival vibe and Burning Man vibe.


I walked a short distance away from the bleachers and spotted a male artist who looked some like Thomas Kinkade in his 40s with light brown hair and matching dapper mustache. His eyes were either light brown or greenish hazel color.  He was about to start painting a portraiture.  I went and stood with the small crowd of 7 – 10 people.  I looked over the shoulders of some of those closest to him and watched him add some water to his brown water colors on his hand held paint palate. On a small wood sectional wall immediately next to him he had a 12 inch square canvas.  He began using his fingers and paint brushes to paint the portraiture. 

I commented to one of the people next to me that this was probably going to take a long time, inferring hours, unless he was like a Disneyland/street artist.  The painter man sort of overhear me, but gave no overt indication of it.  I was about to walk away, when the man began to paint very fast all the base shapes and colors.  I stopped and said, “Ok . . . he is really fast! Even with water colors!” The painter man was painting so rapidly now, he was even possibly moving super-speed motion! He filled in the eyebrows, eyes, and then the rest of the face.  He was almost done now!  I was impressed!  I said, “WOW!  That’s amazing how fast you are!”   He commented that people often thought as I had initially about him and painting, and that he’d be painting at a normal person speed. He seemed to like surprising people this way, so he was not offended in the least by my comment earlier that he’d probably be slow and I’d come back later.  But, since he was fast, I had stayed to watch.

The painter man was now signing his name with his index finger across the top quarter of the canvas, “Andrew Van . . .” he then joked “Should I just sign it ‘Deen’?” as people would often think he might be Andrew VanDeen or about to sign his name as “Andrew VanDeen as either a knock-off artist or as someone with the same or similar name, but a different person.

I stood only a few feet away from his painting looking at the completed portraiture that largely watercolor browns and skins tone colors. Only a few people were still standing around looking at the completed artwork when the actual Andrew VanDeen came over and stood immediately next to me. He began looking at the artwork as well (DV 2 Andrews and 4 artworks with hairsprays).  He began to lightly joke and laugh about if he should just finish off the signature with his “Deen” part.

I both seemed to know and not know it was Andrew VanDeen standing next to me.  So, I was talking with him like a normal person, rather than someone with a celebrity status. I was also talking with him about him, as if he were someone else I was telling about Andrew VanDeen.  I commented, “Andrew VanDeen probably wouldn’t want to sign his name to that painting because of what was coming next for him.” (DV Galactic Rescue)  I was now sort of realizing it was Andrew VanDeen standing next to me, but now it was like I was also talking to him about his friend Gorik Nip Kaplin.  It then seemed like I was talking to Andrew, like he was Gorik, and telling him about Andrew; and then talking to Andrew again about Gorik.  But, it was still the same single guy the entire time standing next to me.

I continued, “Andrew VanDeen is not going to be very happy about what’s coming up next for him.”  I then seemed to fully realize I was actually talking to Andrew VanDeen himself and he was not happy to hear what I’d just said about him and he didn’t really want to believe what I’d just said. So, I repeated myself to ensure he felt the impact of it and that he knew I was talking to him and what was coming next.  He seemed to actually want to be more my friend now, than the other way around.  He’d come over to the painter’s area because I was there and he wanted to seem ‘cool’ for me because of the other people being impressed with him.  I again thought to maybe feel a little weird around him cause he was ‘famous’ but largely I didn’t feel weird at all.  He still didn’t want to believe what I’d said.  I didn’t really care if he ‘believed’ me or not, cause it was gonna happen anyways, and he’d see. . .

Because he was unhappy about what I’d said, he didn’t really want to stay there near me any longer. He seemed to briefly think I was interested in the painter guy also named “Andrew” apparently, because he knew him or came to his painting sessions regularly to watch.  I hadn’t even known any of that prior.  I was just enjoying the artist’s talent and he was a very nice man too.

Andrew VanDeen began to walk away in front of me to the left where I could see him.  He did actually believe what I said, but he didn’t want to believe it and was still hopeful that I was wrong, but, he was seriously thinking about things now.  However, publically, he still wanted people to think he wasn’t taking me seriously like ‘who am I to know these things.’ But, he knew (and I knew he knew) I was telling the truth . . . he walked off very unsettled and unhappy, but trying not to show it.

I thought briefly to follow Andrew VanDeen but that seemed to be sort of what he actually wanted and I knew if I did, he’d likely rebuff me anyways, but maybe not. However, I hadn’t come over to this painters station because of Andrew VanDeen, I was genuinely interested (even more so) in the painter (than in Andrew VanDeen).  The painter had incredible talents.  Andrew VanDeen continued to walk away with his back turned towards me. He didn’t seem to look back, but it felt he wanted to. He was walking off to ‘save face’ and/or look unphased by what I’d said. But, he was really bothered by it and still trying to hold his popular persona.

I redirected my attention back onto the amazing painter, with real talent, and said, “That is AMAZING! You are so fast and incredibly talented!!!”  I also greatly appreciated he kind to other people and to me.  I was very delighted to be there to get to know him and his work better and maybe even get to know some of the people standing nearby too.

Then, I woke up.

It seemed during my conversation with Andrew that I was inferring about Gorik being the one not to like what was coming next, but like Andrew took it to be me talking about him, to himself. Once I realized I was talking with the Andrew VanDeen I thought of the ‘Ai and messed up portal’ Dream Vision and like I also saw dark grey black cloud colors inside Gorik’s stomach areas and up to his chest.  (DV Soleil)