Last night I dreamed that I’d left my piano, the fabled Nord stage 2 EX, on a beach, forgotten about it, and remembered it just as the tide was coming in.
“Do you think it means something?” asked Sammy in the morning. I told her I didn’t think it did, and inside I told myself that I very much hoped that it didn’t.
I can’t imagine doing something like that. When I got back to the beach, the green water was lapping up the sides of the keyboard stand, almost touching the bottom of the keyboard. I dipped a hand into the cold sea and realised I couldn’t risk getting in in case I got swept away. Some people were trying to help I think, but their plan was to lift it out from above using scarves, and (in the dream) I thought that to be a terrible idea, and a sure fire way to tip the Nord accidentally into the waiting ocean.
I don’t know what happened. Before long I was fluttering my eyes open to sunlight through the blind, and the green water had become warm duvet and soft sheets.
I don’t think every dream has to mean something does it? It’s troubling me a bit, almost like the feeling that I have actually left something important somewhere, and I’m about to realise, moments too late. From Canute to my subconscious I guess the truth is that the tide waits for no-one?
Can I chalk this up to just the random flickering of a sleeping brain? I do hope so.
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