31 Nightmares 2017: The 20th

The Void

This year during my work with DJ Matticus & Revis Edgewater I’ve gotten a new perspective on elliptical designs and spheres of all sorts, it’s no wonder I started dreaming of black holes. Our work together on sci-fi and fantasy novels this year also ended up in this year’s #31Nightmares, as one of my concept sketches that was an early design for an upcoming fantasy novel, was also something I dreamt about, an endless void, an imploded star, a strange region in space. It was beautiful but terrifying in my nightmares.

This has been Day 20


This concludes our week diving into the surreal side of horror.

Stay tuned as we make room for our guests to arrive

and much more to come during these

October festivities.

31 Nightmares 2016: The 2nd

Feral Mist
Feral Mist

Long ago there was a nightmare I wrote about in a personal journal. There was a long list of settings that I later divided up and used as separate stories/sketches. One of the areas was a dense and fairly dead burned forest. When my eyes inspected the brush that had been trying to thrive among the ash-ridden trees an almost toxic mist formed.

The mist moved and took on shape. The contents—almost seeming to sting my skin. Who knows what it was or why it was there? This piece is yet another from that particular nightmare that will be added to my gallery along with the others. It has inspired countless works, both written and art-driven throughout my career.

This has been Day 2 of



Sleepy Sundays: Spring Showering

Spring Showering
Spring Showering

It freakishly feels like a mixture of fall and winter around here lately. My area has snow predicted for today. Yet the determined little spring flowers around here keep hangin’ in there and growing. I was inspired by their mild wind dance during the week, so they’ve been popping up everywhere in my work.

During spring, it’s amazing how you can see a bright span of colors even on a gray day.

Have you spotted any color amongst the gray/grey lately?

Have a peaceful Sunday!



Recurring dreams or nightmares are a phenomena that hasn’t plagued this daydreamer in quite some time.

Recently, the norm shifted. I’ve been having a string of nightmares that would make some psychiatrist’s mouth water.

They take place in some dolled-up version of what used to be the dining room in my old home. I’m sitting at a dinner table with (for lack of better terms) —a bunch of dead people.

Some of the people sitting there are relatives; some friends. All of them are people that have passed on. Yet there I am, sitting amongst them, trying to start a conversation.

At first, no one sees me. No one hears me. Then a few make kind, but robotic remarks. As I sit there, trying to make sense of it, everyone’s faces and bodies start to deteriorate. Their flesh starts to decay. Everything sort of falls off, bits and pieces of them falling onto the table, into the food.

I back away from the table slowly, stumbling in shock and terror and run away screaming. As I bolt through the doorway, I enter a hall that wasn’t there before. The walls and area surrounding are dirty, dank, dreary, rusty and dripping. In the corner is a thinly set man, curled up. I gently tap him to see what’s wrong and he jumps up revealing scars and tattered clothes. He appears tortured and beaten. He is frightened beyond consolation. He screams, and I wake up.

I don’t know what it all means.

Perhaps death is weighing heavy on my mind due to loss and my own physical health decline.

Whatever it all means, I drew the man I see there last night.

Terror (original sketch)
Terror (original sketch)
Terror_color render
Terror (Digital art render. Color variation.)

Maybe if I get it all out they can rest. Maybe my mind can rest. I’d like to dig a grave for all of this inner stress. I want to sing it a requiem and be done with it. Though nightmares often aid in my work, this particular set causes me upset in my waking life.

Hopefully my pouring of emotions into the paper can aid my restless psyche. Even if it’s only a teensy bit I’ll be satisfied. Anything’s better than being haunted.