Speaking of Dreams...

Check out this cool, vintage interview of famous writers, Henry Miller and Anais Nin, about dreams and writing. I particularly love Miller's take on death ("Being dead while you're alive, that's real death") and his advice to use dreams as a writing exercise.

Who am I to question Henry Miller, so here goes nothing...

I dreamed of Italy last night. The light sneaking over the horizon and wrapping the countryside into a bear hug. The vineyards, perched precariously on cliffs and hillsides, extending their limbs upward to touch the sun's face. The grapes content to bask in its warmth.

Italy is color; vivid, shocking, familiar. I dreamed about its villages; the patchworks of Crayola inspiration -- reds, yellows, oranges, pinks -- and the showstopping, azure backdrop of the sea.

I dreamed of gelato last night too. Of the little shop in Corniglia, one of only two, tucked away in the crevice of a narrow, winding street. Its tubs of mint green pistachio, yellow lemon, pinkish strawberry, and light brown chocolate beckoning. I dreamed of the cone I devoured there after a long hike; the scoops of coffee, mint and coconut sticky, dripping down my fingers in the bright Italian sun.

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P.S. I'm taking this as a sign that (1) I need to get serious about my 2012 goal to learn Italian and (2) I need to schedule another trip to Europe.

{Images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}