I dreamed of :

Invisible tears of concrete angels

A young artist -Sitting in the cemetery drawing headstones. Acres of burial monuments all around her. Detached at first, then overcome with pathos- that familiar warm lump in your chest.

In a corner of the cemetary a single grey angel knelt above a small stone. Her limp wings rose behind slumped shoulders. Both plaintive hands had open palms aimed skyward. Bespeeching- what?

The girl's drawing was pencil or charcoal. Black and grey mostly, but she added a single spot of blue ink -a small pool under one eye. Not overly dramatic, but symbolic

This was the title she wrote on the bottom of the paper:

2 4 78
10 23 78

I want to paint that image and have it sing of beauty, not of depression.