Can You Put a Price on Art? A Dream About Creation and Value
Dreams, Creation, and the Cost of Art
Do you keep a dream journal?
TBH, I don’t. But last night’s dream prompted me to write this post because it felt profound before I even picked it apart.
You know how dreams go—there’s rarely a beginning or an end (unless it’s dramatic, of course). You’re just tossed straight into the middle of a story.
There I was on a beach near a city. Think Miami, or maybe Los Angeles. It was busy, yet somehow, the water remained pristine. I was with a friend—a person I don’t recognize in my waking life—and we were searching for seashells.
We found a small, single-sided cove, and near the rocks where the waves broke, I spotted multiple abalone shells and turbans. They were massive—each as big as my hand or forearm. I started gathering them like a starving person presented with bread. Their iridescent interiors shimmered as I turned them over, revealing the animals inside—alive, but barely.
My friend stopped me. We shouldn’t take these.
For a moment, I considered ignoring her. But then, feeling a strange sense of irritation, I put not just the abalones back, but all my treasures.
And then, as dreams do, the scene shifted.
Suddenly, in front of us stood a glass display case filled with stunning purses and boxes crafted from the very shells we had just found. They were works of art—perfect, intricate, glistening.
I reached in, grabbing the two best ones, urging my friend to take the others. I couldn’t believe these were just here for the taking! A rush of greed and desire flooded through me.
But again, my friend stopped me. These belong to someone. They’re someone’s art. They deserve to be compensated.
She placed several hundred dollars inside the case and took one purse. I hesitated, suddenly feeling defeated, and opted out.
End dream.
A Reflection on Creation & Value
A lot to unpack there, no?
First, a shoutout to my little dream guide—she was good and pure and wise.
But let’s talk meaning.
I love the parallels between human creation and the earth’s creation. The shells themselves are nature’s art, just as our own creations are born from what the earth gives us. The artists who made those purses, and the original artist—Mother Nature—both deserved recognition and compensation.
And yet, money felt awkward. My dream guide offered more than my greedy self thought necessary. No one was even there to receive it. It was a symbolic exchange—one of gratitude and reverence, a recognition that no amount of money could truly encapsulate.
Can we ever really put a price on nature? Can we say artistry is worth a certain amount of money? Creation is beyond a flat piece of paper, beyond a simple transaction. It’s an act of reciprocity. My dream friend didn’t take—she honored, she exchanged, she received.
But me? I just saw the shine. Like a magpie drawn to a glimmer, I wanted to consume it, to call it mine. My humanity, my guilt, my conditioning—claim, take, conquer!—reared its head. Even though I know better.
This messaging feels so poignant in today’s world, especially in the U.S., where we’re bred into a system that says: Get it before it’s gone. If you’re not first, you’re last. But the earth doesn’t work that way. Art doesn’t work that way.
And yet, let’s be real. The answer isn’t screw money, forget all commodities.
How This Ties to Art
I think about this a lot when it comes to art. Creation is not just about making something beautiful—it’s about offering something of meaning, something that shifts the way we see the world. And yet, in a society that thrives on consumption, art is often reduced to an object, something to own rather than receive.
But maybe, like in my dream, the beauty of art isn’t just in having it. Maybe it’s in the reverence of knowing that creation itself is an offering—whether from an artist, from nature, or from the unseen forces that inspire us.
Art exists in this delicate space between giving and receiving, between what can be measured and what cannot. And perhaps that’s what makes it valuable—not just the materials, the time, or the skill, but the way it connects us, the way it shifts something inside us.
What do you think? Have you ever had a dream that revealed something unexpected to you? Let me know—I’d love to hear.
