(the following is a dream relayed to me by a friend; she asked if I would illustrate it – my answer, an emphatic yes!)
…the walls are a light, soft yellow so it was a warm environment. The flames are moving, and as they move there are whispering voices in them, every candle has its own voice. Some of them are saying nice things, one is praying, another is insulting me, some are telling their story, all at the same time.
There are a couple of hostile candles, they are scolding me: “you should be ashamed of yourself” Then they insult me, on many different levels. One candle is praying “Our father” solemnly, a woman’s voice, it is like she’s about to cry but at the same time you can feel the passion in her whispers, the strength in her devotion, her inner, desperate desire.
Another candle says friendly things, a young female voice saying: “you are really beautiful, I think I love you, I’d like to caress your skin.” She says this in a slow and warm tone. I also remember one desperate man telling his story, he is worried by the fact he might never see his son again, he sobs, I feel he wants to shout but doesn’t dare to.
The last candle I can recall, a seductive woman’s voice, confessing some naughty stories as she giggles to herself when she emphasizes the details, however she became annoying and started laughing madly.