Dream+

24 Apr

The concert was on a plane, for about 60 people. We were to take off from Central Park.

“Lagavulin?” The waitress nodded. I sat back in a red velvet chair. The pale man with a maroon-lipped grimace started up his accordian. He sang in a shrill falsetto, then a gravelly voice, absurdly low.

The plane took off; we flew over tree tops. Then, below us, the confetti of exploding buildings. The man sang higher, lower, louder over the noise below us. When all the buildings were gone, the man stopped singing and we had lost our voices. All we could do was whisper.

(When I was little, I used to have many bizarre nightmares. These seem to have dropped off as I became an adult–perhaps due to a drop in sensitivity. So I when I dream something like this, I have to take note. Usually I hold onto these scraps and see if the dream logic spins into a story. But since I can’t or won’t make use of exploding buildings, however gruesome some of the my stories have been, I’ve decided to post this here.)

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