May 30th, 2007

Bruce, Caroline

(no subject)

As is my wont when I take these little trips to Minnesota, I did a lot of sleeping. On Saturday, I had what I felt was one of the most pleasant dreams in my life. (Don't worry, completely and utterly g-rated.) I'm not sure what made this so special, but to me it was. Maybe some of you out there like trying to decypher this stuff.

In this dream, I was back on the farm, as a kid again. More accurately, I would have been of high school age. I decided, out of the blue, that I was going to try to learn to play on the organ one of the songs our stage band was doing. In real life, I had rather enjoyed this song, because I had a trumpet solo in it.

So the bulk of the dream was spent just going over that song again and again on the organ. It was great because, although the keys I was pushing on the organ were the keys for Concert C, the organ was playing the song in the key I remembered it, trumpet C (concert B-flat). Whenever I made a mistake, I'd utter a (nonprofane) exclamation of disgust, and my dad, in the next room, would laugh indulgently, clearly enjoying hearing me try to learn this song. My mom and brothers were in the next room too, but in this particular dream it was Dad who was making it clear how much he was enjoying just hearing me practise. This was in no way out of character. Then there was a knock at the door, and house-cleaning interrupted my dream to remake the room. I was so disappointed, recognizing even then that this was the most pleasant dream I've had in years.

I went right back to sleep, and this time I was in my office at work. This has got to be the first or second time I've ever dreamed of my current office and circumstances. It was a nice dream too, though not as nice as the first one. In it, I had every conceivable modification made to my work area that I wante: the water cooler was moved so it was beside me, I got a bigger garbage can, and on and on. As a sort of tangent, one of my co-workers had bought hersel a pet talking baboon that could say "Hi Bruce". That part I don't think I'll ever be able to explain. But this dream ran its course right until the end. I know this, because on the rare occasions my dreams go all the way through, they usually end with a bit of closing theme music. I'm guessing this is the would-be radio producer inside me. This dream had a closing theme song: inexplicably enough, a mutated version of the hymn Rock of ages. I love dreaming. It's so much fun. As long as I'm not having a nightmare. That first dream, the one about me learning to play that song on the organ, I'll remember for a long time. It was wonderful. I can't remember being rudely awakened from a dream and yet so filled with a sense of peace.
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