I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming but I'm pitching my Imagination Center. I'm telling the head of the Art Council why she should let me be a communal artist in her small city.
I tell her it's not about my ego, its about doing art with anyone who wants to do art with me.
She looks at me with disbelief. I'm losing her and the pitch isn't working.
This is my dream and I own it. I rewrite the dream.
I'm not Robert A Vollrath, I'm Mr. Anonymous. I'm the spark that feeds the flame of imagination.
I not here for myself I'm here for the people of this city. I have 12 imagination pods I can feed the city with. I show her a beautiful portfolio only half finished in the real world but complete in this dream world.
The pitch is finished and I wake from my dream. I begin to work on the portfolio.
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