A Dream
An odd dream this morning, about an hour after my alarm first woke me.
I am at a large convention hall, if I had to guess, the DNC, although I haven't been paying much attention to it. There are musical performances, and one production just finished to give way to a young girl, maybe ten or twelve, dressed in a simple but elegant white dress and standing next to an instrument resembling the piano. Because there was no room when I entered the hall, I am actually seated on the floor, immediately before the girl, in between the first row of chairs and her instrument. It is an ideal position. I can see and hear everything.
The girl's instrument looks like an upright piano whose backboard has been removed and whose open back is exposed to the audience. I don't know if there are keys at the front, a side I couldn't see at all. Where the strings of an upright piano would be, tightly stretched from the bottom to the top of the wooden frame, in perfect order, thinnest to thickest and carefully spaced, there are also strings, but looser and more chaotic. The girl begins her solo by picking, pulling, and sliding her fingers across this web of strings, most of her fingers moving at the same time, as a pianist would play his ivory keys. The instrument sounds a tone between the violin and the piano.
Eventually my parents join me at the front row as well as an usher who I would guess was gay by his lisp and ear rings. I was initially worried he would ask us to leave, but he just sat down and listened as well. One of my parents, before taking a seat on the floor, actually inspected the instrument while the girl was playing. I was somewhat embarrassed. No matter though. During the performance I had a huge smile on my face and was in bliss. The music was heavenly.
The girl ended her piece and paused, almost hugging the piano, her back towards us. Her posture gave the appearance of solemnity and internal struggle. She was thinking very hard about a decision. Facing the audience, the young girl turned towards us, first my parents, who said something thoughtless although I don't know what, and then me. We stared at each other in eerie silence. Finally, the girl broke away and, addressing the audience, proclaimed that she had created this instrument so as not to confine herself to the limits of the piano. She became upset and even angry as she began the next piece. I don't recall what she sung, but she accompanied the music with her voice, angry words and disturbing enough to wake me.
I love dreams. Strange stuff.
I am at a large convention hall, if I had to guess, the DNC, although I haven't been paying much attention to it. There are musical performances, and one production just finished to give way to a young girl, maybe ten or twelve, dressed in a simple but elegant white dress and standing next to an instrument resembling the piano. Because there was no room when I entered the hall, I am actually seated on the floor, immediately before the girl, in between the first row of chairs and her instrument. It is an ideal position. I can see and hear everything.
The girl's instrument looks like an upright piano whose backboard has been removed and whose open back is exposed to the audience. I don't know if there are keys at the front, a side I couldn't see at all. Where the strings of an upright piano would be, tightly stretched from the bottom to the top of the wooden frame, in perfect order, thinnest to thickest and carefully spaced, there are also strings, but looser and more chaotic. The girl begins her solo by picking, pulling, and sliding her fingers across this web of strings, most of her fingers moving at the same time, as a pianist would play his ivory keys. The instrument sounds a tone between the violin and the piano.
Eventually my parents join me at the front row as well as an usher who I would guess was gay by his lisp and ear rings. I was initially worried he would ask us to leave, but he just sat down and listened as well. One of my parents, before taking a seat on the floor, actually inspected the instrument while the girl was playing. I was somewhat embarrassed. No matter though. During the performance I had a huge smile on my face and was in bliss. The music was heavenly.
The girl ended her piece and paused, almost hugging the piano, her back towards us. Her posture gave the appearance of solemnity and internal struggle. She was thinking very hard about a decision. Facing the audience, the young girl turned towards us, first my parents, who said something thoughtless although I don't know what, and then me. We stared at each other in eerie silence. Finally, the girl broke away and, addressing the audience, proclaimed that she had created this instrument so as not to confine herself to the limits of the piano. She became upset and even angry as she began the next piece. I don't recall what she sung, but she accompanied the music with her voice, angry words and disturbing enough to wake me.
I love dreams. Strange stuff.