Last night I had, the strangest dream...
Ok, it wasn't that strange. Just sort of odd.
I dreamed that siozie, darkstormangel, and I were out together -- I dunno, shopping or something. The two of them went into a storefront at some point and I dallied out on the street for reasons which I don't now recall. When I did follow them into the shop, I found it was not a shop at all. Or, at least, it was not evidently a shop. siozie and darkstormangel were sitting on a bench which ran the length of one wall. A wizened old Indian dude was seated in front of them, playing some kind of musical instrument. It was long and black with silver keys and some holes like a clarinet. But it was not a clarinet. It was thinner toward the mouthpiece (which was more oboe-like than clarinet), longer than a clarinet, and much wider by the time it reached its end. It was also vaguely triangular instead of circular in cross-section. I went in and sat down beside darkstormangel, with siozie on the end. When the old man finished playing, we all thanked him. The girls were telling me something about some tradition around this type of "sitar" playing. I know the instrument was not a sitar; nevertheless, that is what everyone kept calling it. Then a second Indian gentleman, not quite as old or wizened as the first, but dressed the same, came forward and offered us a round-ish ceramic flask. siozie accepted this from him and darkstormangel handed me a small ceramic dish. They poured tiny white grains of something out of the flask into the dish, then poured some kind of sweetened water over the grains in the dish. Then they urged me to eat them. They said this was the way I thanked the gentleman for his playing. I dipped my fingers in the mixture and brought them to my mouth to suck them. It just tasted like sugar water. The musician bowed and then flipped the end of his instrument up -- sort of folding the last third up flush with the top two-thirds -- and got up. Both Indian gentleman left the room.
And I woke up around then, I think.
I dreamed that siozie, darkstormangel, and I were out together -- I dunno, shopping or something. The two of them went into a storefront at some point and I dallied out on the street for reasons which I don't now recall. When I did follow them into the shop, I found it was not a shop at all. Or, at least, it was not evidently a shop. siozie and darkstormangel were sitting on a bench which ran the length of one wall. A wizened old Indian dude was seated in front of them, playing some kind of musical instrument. It was long and black with silver keys and some holes like a clarinet. But it was not a clarinet. It was thinner toward the mouthpiece (which was more oboe-like than clarinet), longer than a clarinet, and much wider by the time it reached its end. It was also vaguely triangular instead of circular in cross-section. I went in and sat down beside darkstormangel, with siozie on the end. When the old man finished playing, we all thanked him. The girls were telling me something about some tradition around this type of "sitar" playing. I know the instrument was not a sitar; nevertheless, that is what everyone kept calling it. Then a second Indian gentleman, not quite as old or wizened as the first, but dressed the same, came forward and offered us a round-ish ceramic flask. siozie accepted this from him and darkstormangel handed me a small ceramic dish. They poured tiny white grains of something out of the flask into the dish, then poured some kind of sweetened water over the grains in the dish. Then they urged me to eat them. They said this was the way I thanked the gentleman for his playing. I dipped my fingers in the mixture and brought them to my mouth to suck them. It just tasted like sugar water. The musician bowed and then flipped the end of his instrument up -- sort of folding the last third up flush with the top two-thirds -- and got up. Both Indian gentleman left the room.
And I woke up around then, I think.