Once upon a summer evening, I had a dream of walking around an art show. I was intimately familiar with all the work but recognized none of it. My heart was an ache and my mind was a blank. Within the course of the dream, I realized I was at a future exhibit of my own work. A retrospective perhaps? One room I entered was very dark with black walls. As I walked closer to the center of the room, I began to see figures of boys luminate. As I moved around the life size figures, their forms fell away as though they’d been painted on successive layers of glass. But there was no glass. The paint seemed to hang in the air. I proceeded to walk through the figures, between the layers, observing the artwork from all angles I could. The figures were made up of geometric patterns and a rainbow of colors up close. It was of a complexity I couldn’t imagine contriving. And it was only when I stood back at one point in the room did the various shapes and patterns form a complete image. From any other angle, it was a beautiful offset abstraction. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Like nothing I’d ever experienced. I was twenty years old and convinced I’d been given a glimpse of my future. Or if not my future, then it was a future I’d commit myself to manifesting. Within days of the dream, I used 3D modeling software to create a crude mock-up of the effect I witnessed.