I had a dream the other night... 
I was taking photos over a high dam wall. It was a beautiful scene with blue water, rolling hills. Photogenic. I was with someone else, and we decided to go back and get another shot. I had my camera on the tripod, trying to get it up high enough to see over the wall. When I looked through the viewfinder, all I could see was water. I wondered for a bit, and then realised it was a great wall of water coming towards us. 

We ran, we ran back across the bridge we came from and looked for higher ground. I said 'as long as I don't get my camera drenched'. Strange that I thought about my camera over my life. We found higher ground, slightly, on steps and waited.

The water came, but only as a trickle. What was most upsetting was the people running with it. Running from the wave and it's destruction it had left across the other side of the bridge. Wailing mums and grandmas scrambled in front of me. They were sobbing out words, trying to tell me what and who they left behind. I wondered 'would it be ok to take a photo and document this?' I went into photojournalist mode but held back because I was there for a different purpose. I didn't want to upset the people that had invited me in to take pretty pictures by taking photos of their torment and agony. But I am a photographer - and I had the urge. In some ways, I felt responsible to document the event.

The dream ended, so I'm not sure what I decided. But I still remember this dream days on. Is it a little prod - telling me to do something? Perhaps it's a next exhibition idea - emotions and life. I'd like to help tell people's stories. 
Let me know if you have any ideas...

In the meantime, I am in another exhibition called Skrambled Eggs. A fab group of pro photographers taking photos with their iPhone and electronic devices. If you want to be wowed with what can be done with such a device, head to De La Liff over the Christmas break. You never know, you may even nab yourself a Christmas present while there. :)

Don't forget about day tripping it down to McLaren Vale to visit Salty Stories at Red Poles either... no excuse needed. Kids love running around in the pit, parents love the wine and beer, and everyone loves the food.