Simon Fielder is a digital artist who’s work I have been following on social media for some time. Fielder is from Cumbria, England. He paints his digital paintings using his just his fingers on his iPad. He has done many brilliant pieces of work that I have appreciated over the time that I have known of his work.
I asked his permission to do this post in dedication to his brilliant work as I attempt to interpret his most recent piece that is based on his dream:
The above image was posted to his Facebook Page on the 27th February 2018 and I was amazed by it. It must take incredible amounts of skill to draw like this on an iPad. I, for one, can barely draw with a pencil. Anyway, I have decided to interpret the dream in the form of a short story piece, so, here it goes:
I was stood on a darkened train carriage on the tracks to no where. The night was so cold that my pyjamas didn’t shield my delicate skin from it’s piercing grip. I had no idea how I got there but I knew I needed to get off. I could hardly see a hand in front of my face, how was I meant to know where I was going? The tracks seemed to go on forever as the clickity-clack of the wheels rang in my ears like bells. I was alone there, eaten by the shadows with no one to hear me yell for help.
That was until a warm glow stroked the back of my neck. I slowly turned to see a flame a few carriages away. Was the train on fire? If it was, I had to be the one brave enough to put it out or the only way I would get off this train was in the form of ashes.
I ran towards it, faster than I thought I could. It was almost as if I blinked and ended up there. It was a controlled flame, in a metal cylinder. The air around me filled with a swarm of moths that were drawn to it’s heat but…. they weren’t fluttering. They just sort-of hovered there in the glory of the flame.
A man stood, hunched over the flame as though he were desperate to keep warm. His clothes were ragged and he looked like he hadn’t bathed in a long time.
“You been on here long?” he grumbled under his breath, without even looking up at me.
“N-n-no,” I replied, nervously, “How did we get here? How do we get off?”
He snorted out a laugh, “We don’t.”
“WHAT?!” I yelled, before he hushed me.
“Come, keep warm,” he said, gesturing with his hand for me to get closer.
I didn’t really want to be closer to a creepy stranger on an unknown train that will apparently never stop but at the same time, the flame was so inviting. I needed the heat. I took a step forward. As I did, one of my shoulders brushed against a moth but it broke a part into ashes and floated like snowflakes to the floor. They were dead. Dead moths held around this man by strings. It sent a shiver down running down my spine like the scratch of a sharp finger nail. Just keep moving forward. Just keep moving.
“We never know why we come here but we never get to leave,” the old man whimpered, as I watched a tear glisten in the flame. He quickly wiped it away before it reached his mangled, unwashed beard, “The only way we leave is the same way that moth just did… when we turn to DUST.”
I hope you enjoyed my interpretation but, I would love to hear yours so drop me a comment (might do another post featuring the best responses – including links to your blogs!)