Dream Journal
I am standing in the middle of Beth’s garage holding a bucket of white paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. In front of me stands a line of furniture needing to be painted. In the bottom of the bucket sits paint a half inch deep. I have to paint the wood legs and wood ornamental square on the couch. The ornamental square is mounted directly onto the upholstery and I cannot get paint onto the new couch.
I paint furniture piece after furniture piece, worried that I will run out of paint. But I never do. No matter how many pieces of furniture I paint, there is still a half-inch depth of shiny white paint in the bottom of my bucket.