When I half played the saxophone as a teen because I heard jazz, I saw myself sitting on the horizon in a blaze of Peter Max colors (Sam Gilliam colors if you like). Eddie Harris was the man and I wanted to improve his electric sax music. I wasn't a musician just a musical dreamer. Then I got to college to be an architect. I had no math background but my drawing was visionary. Just as well the architecture school closed my second year. I lived in the library reading building books, had a thing for domestic architecture. Had to get practical and got a job as an electrical drafter. You push it all to the back of your mind, each time you have to move on. For practical reasons you move through life doing what you have to do. Then in those idle times when you are reading for amusement, watching a movie, epiphanies come. All the stuff in you simmers and stews waiting there for something in the here and now to bring it out. Most times I have remorse because my education has holes and short comings. But next to that the exhilaration is beyond words. I find my story common. Many of us are short and mis-educated, mis-directed and made to feel less because we have not mastered anything according to the institutional credential machine. But you have learned what you learned and no one can say otherwise. I marvel at the dreams that come to me, I write them down. I'm not an architect but I see architecture all the time. I am not a computer guru but I see new ways to arrange hardware all the time. I am not a so-called professional artist but I do artistic stuff all the time. While I commend the many who make the cut, I feel bad for the waste of minds, the many who have more passion than ones able to work the system to get the paper. Once you have knowledge, even partial knowledge, the dreams come. That's what education does. That is how education works and it simply works in us. There is input, process and an expression, period. My dream is an Electric African, a diaspora man, whose history is so twisted and convoluted, he can't say where origins are. He is mostly watching his back as he moves about seeing and touching what he can. In my dream he buys a property and begins to collect cast-off building materials. A steel grain silo because he remembers Africans built graineries for centuries. A Quonset hut because during WW2 it was discovered both Blacks and quick shelter became a necessity. Cargo shipping containers because we import everything here today as we were imported here yesterday. He fashions them into a dwelling by merging the forms. He calls it a HUT (Habitat for the Urban Terrain) and laughs "a Techno HUT designed by a not an architect Black man." He thought his solitary effort was singular. Unbeknown to him many Techno HUTs simultaneously appeared across the globe in almost every country. He is far advanced than his contemporaries, just says; "I have common knowledge, just applied differently." What are your tech of color dreams?