My dear friend, Patrick Payne, commissioned me to create this painting as a response to his writing about a dream he had. He gave me the following narrative and, after reading it several times and meditating over it for quite some time, I first sketched out my reaction to it. Then, I developed that pencil drawing into the oil painting you see here.
© 2005
"…and in the end, all was silent and cold. The young man, now old…was alone. Just as he had always secretly dreamed late at night, long after midnight, a man whom had heroically survived the death of dear loved ones. The manifestation of all of these dramatic, drunken fantasies stood before him…for real. All those that he loved, and whom loved him…were now dead. Ghosts of the thousands of romantic visions which had flashed through his fleeting mind now weighed heavily on his heart. The notion that he would never survive them all never occurred to him. Despite his arrogant thoughts that life or God would kill him early in life…neither never happened. One solitary tear dropped from his left eye, for that was all of the tears that he had left. They had all been spent during these previous moments of illusionary loss. His acting out of these imaginary tragedies, prematurely, now left him emotionally bankrupt. And now as an old man, weak of heart and of mind, the idea of living beyond tomorrow broke his heart again and again and again. And as each new day dawned and he lifted his eyes woefully from the previous night's slumber, only to realize another day stood before him…the ache of life gnawed at his bones…taunting him. It was the price he now paid for being so…thoughtless."
© 2005 P. Payne
