The Sound of Horses Chasing my Son

A dream that has been repeated.  As a young child the family dog passed away. This big sweet Malamute's death was my first experience of loss.  After the death i remember being sad and frightened and then these nightmares began.  It was of a big dog that stood on his back feet and wore a dirty old trench coat.  The dog would just walk towards me and then I would awaken to run down the hall to jump into my parents bed and have them protect me from the Dog-Man.  A few years ago I came across an image of the devil as this three headed merman with wings and snakes for hands.  The central head was an old man with this masculine beard curling over his chest on either side of his head was a beast like head, one of which  reminded me of my childhood grieving process and the nightly visits from the Dog-Man. I worked that image over and over but I could not create the context, the scenario, the fore and back ground.  There was so much potential in just the figure, but how to put him within the whole?  I worked through forests, butterflies, boats, water, horses, and glowing halos. There are so many layers and painted over ideas.   The painting that finally emerged has so much information and history for me.   The horses have emerged to take center stage.  Four horses, with no riders, with no carriage or burden.  But bound together, running and pulling a mysterious burden.  Perhaps it is a returning to the cycle and patterns that surround us always informing us.  A space where dreams are fermented from the stewing shadows of our own minds.  When I hold my son in the morning, waking him from his peaceful sleep, I want to know his dreams.  Where does his mind go when sleeping?  Will his sleep be visited by the emotions and occurrences of life that he does not know how to let go of?  Will he feel the pounding of the horses charging through his resting mind?  Will I again be visited by the bearded man with three faces?  Dreams fascinate me, they feel so charged with meaning and profound understanding while they occur  Then i find the telling of them slips through the fingers like water back to the ground.  This is a canvas that was worked on for years, the refers back to my childhood, and joins with hopes and fears about the next generation of my family.