Friday, January 10, 2014

a terrible dream

I dreamed I went to my viola teacher's house for a lesson. It was not my in-real-life viola teacher, but a fictitious dream person sort of like someone who works at my company, a Russian guy, but older than that guy. I was a little early for my lesson, so I decided to use the time folding some clean laundry I had with me for some reason. I got all the clothes spread out and was starting to fold them when all of a sudden it was time for the lesson. I went to get my viola out of the case, and all the strings were gone, the bridge was on its side, and (worst of all) the soundpost had fallen. Where would I find a luthier on a Sunday? My teacher felt this was my fault and berated me for this and other things, saying "you do not work very hard." I was mortified by his remark, and started protesting: "how can you say that? how do you think I managed to survive 50 years without working hard?" He made some snarky comment about knowing the right people to sleep with, which stopped me cold (no one has ever said anything like that to me before; I just don't live the kind of way that would get me comments like that). Later in the dream, he and I and his assistant were walking through the city at night. He was ranting but I kept hoping that eventually he'd take me to a luthier. We walked past a series of open pits, construction sites of some kind. He would splash gasoline into the pit and then light it. In the dream, this was something I knew he'd spent some time in prison for. At one pit, he splashed the gasoline in and lit it, but instead of it catching fire, it spit the gasoline back onto us. I knew something terrible was going to happen. Then the alarm went off and it was time to wake up.

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