I just had a "funny" dream in which I was leaving a museum and I saw on the outside of it a large image of myself, sculpted out of clay. My legs were spread and I was masturbating in a bed of flowers with a dildo. (I had a vagina.) The piece was called, "The Failure of the Personal."

I immediately knew that the piece was by Brice Hobbs and was meant to embarrass me, but not in a mean way. So I laughed. 

Then the next piece of the "movie" on the side of the museum showed Brice in process sculpting the piece, first the flowers and then the vulva. They were almost exactly the same shape. I realized then that something else was going on here besides making fun. 

But "Failure of the Personal?" Was this a critique? 

So I called Brice up (in the dream) and he gave me a long explanation of the piece that was terrific, but had nothing to do whatsoever with my take on it. I can't remember what he said though. 

I also dreamed this line last night, in a different dream, 

"Sweet leaf Keats drew my whole life over. It gave flesh to me."