Last night I dreamt a ghost was playing my guitar. I don’t remember the details. I think we were in a greenroom or something – the whole band was in some sort of concrete room with beaten, well-used furniture – and my Alvarez was sitting in the one unoccupied chair in a shaft of sunshine. We were all just sort of relaxing and slowly we became aware of the sound of my guitar, slowly ringing out. I think Rowan noticed it first, we were waving our hands around it, trying to feel a breeze or wires or something – and slowly it started picking out a rhythm and grew a little bit in volume. It was a beautiful little tune and we knew it was a spirit or a ghost or something, with only enough substance to sound my strings.
I woke up out of it so relieved that I’d seen evidence of Life after death, like a weight had been lifted off my soul – and then as I recognized my surroundings and put things in context, the crushing feeling of realization that it wasn’t a memory, but just a dream, and I started crying because everything truly is so temporary.
Good morning world. Yesterday it was 19 degrees. This morning it’s 43 and raining, going up to 60-somethin’. This’ll be one of those winters where we never quite feel safe putting away our summer clothes. Ha. Because 19 degrees is truly so temporary.
