In the Silence and Dreams In Between

Field Notes from a Dreamer · Entry 01

People often ask where my ideas come from—how I design a wine label that feels like a story, or stage a photograph that feels like memory.

The truth is… most of them come to me in dreams.

Fully vivid, layered dreams.

The kind where the light is specific, the setting is whole, and the details arrive as clearly as if I’ve already made the thing I’m only just beginning to imagine.

Sometimes I’ll see a set design, a dress, a pose, or a colour palette in perfect form—before I ever pick up a camera or pen. A scene will play out in a way that feels half memory, half message. And when I wake, I carry it with me. Not always understanding it fully at first—but knowing it wants to become something.

These dreams don’t come on command.

They arrive when I’m open—when there’s space, softness, and quiet around me.

Which is why I’ve learned something I used to resist:

I can’t create in a rush.

The ideas that matter most—the ones that hold soul and story—don’t show up when I’m busy checking boxes.They come when I notice how the wind moves the grass.They come when I let the light paint the walls and wait for it to say something.

That noticing isn’t a luxury—it’s the work.

It’s where meaning lives.

I used to feel guilty for needing so much space to create. For needing silence, dreaming, time. But now I see it for what it is: a kind of communion. A connection to something deeper than me, through the portal of rest.

I once read that a dreamcatcher doesn’t just filter bad dreams—it lets the meaningful ones through, the ones worth remembering.That’s what my creative life has become: a kind of waking dreamcatcher.

Noticing what drifts in, sifting the noise, and gently holding on to what matters.

So I protect that now.

I protect the sleep, the slow mornings, the unscheduled afternoons.

Because without that space, the dreams don’t come.

And without the dreams, I lose the thread of what I’m really here to make.

Not content.

Not trends.

But moments.Images.

Stories people can feel.

🌿 Field Notes from a Dreamer

A quiet series of reflections on where my work comes from—the dreams, the stillness, the way the light moves through a room. These entries aren’t tutorials or trend reports. They’re fragments of process. Moments of meaning. Honest notes from the spaces in between.