A practice room, or perhaps a prison

I was at the university in the city across the border. K and I were writing a song, whether in a practice room or a prison I am still not sure. It was halfway underground, with a window across one wall on the top half, looking at the outside. We were not concerned, so it must have been a practice room, although it felt like a prison. For hours we sat there, writing, talking, forgetting to eat, as the hours passed, looking out the half-window (or was it that we were looking in on ourselves?)

The night lingered on. I felt sleepy and closed my eyes for just a moment. I did not want to waste a second of this time in sleep; the next moment I knew he would go back to the unknown world he inhabited. In that moment, I felt him lay his head on my shoulder. I did not open my eyes. We said nothing and drifted off into sleep together.

I woke up later to find he was still sleeping peacefully. I didn't want to disturb him so I fell asleep again myself. No, no, this time was not wasted at all.

I woke from the dream with lyrics in my mind, which faded immediately upon waking.

Who is the K of my dream? I don't even know. He looks like no one I know and as I read back on these posts later, I assume it is this person, or it is that person. But it is not. I think perhaps K is that aspect of myself that loves me unconditionally, accepts me, doesn't judge me; I slept last night after unfavorably comparing myself to others and maybe this is just how I remember that such comparison and critical judgment is unnecessary.

He does resemble Akshay Kumar in "OMG" quite a bit, hence the initial K. But with better hair.

14 reasons the world is not ready for a female guitarist

Such was the title of the Buzzfeed article I was reading upon it having become common knowledge that the band that was my favorite in my dream - let us call them Mystery because I forgot what they were called - had a new guitarist named Michaela. Not Michael. Michaela. And the music world went crazy. How could a woman shred, they asked? How could she tour when she needed to be home cooking? Would she ever get married?

But tour she did, shred she did, and it just so happened that Mystery's tour took them to the town just across the border from me. Very nice, I thought, and I decided I would go to their show whenever it happened, but it was quite a ways off in the future so I didn't think very much about it besides wondering when tickets would go on sale.

Choir practice was at the high school it used to be at that Monday night, so I went like a diligent little fake soprano, sang my piece, and when choir practice was over, went out to my car and began to drive home. On the way, I got a call from an unknown number. I picked it up and the voice on the other end of the line was a surprise - it was an acquaintance of mine who had talked to the manager of Mystery and said they wanted me to come rehearse with them for the upcoming show. WHAT. Of course I said yes, but I had to go get my microphone first. They wanted me back at the high school in thirty minutes. Half of my microphone and accessories were in a storage unit, so I went there first. Then I had to go to my mom's house and find the other half. I felt I was racing the clock and that if I got there after 10 PM, I would not have a chance.

Microphone acquired, I drove eastward again, only to get yet another call from A., who was eating at a restaurant and wanted me to join him. So of course I did, but I told him we had to really get going and I wasn't hungry anyway, because I needed to be back at the high school by 10. He said he had to move his truck (truck? okay) and went outside. I followed shortly thereafter to see a huge garbage truck moving forward a little too fast in the parking lot. A Dumpster fell off the back, and the truck lost control and hit another car. I got really scared and called out A's name, but no response. I went over to the truck and didn't see him inside it. No one was inside it, which should have scared me more, but I was just glad he wasn't in the truck. I didn't know where he was, but at this point I couldn't figure out what else to do - I had to go. So I got in my car, may or may not have clipped another vehicle on the way, and drove back to the high school and hurriedly ran to the auditorium.

And there is A, just sitting at a table and chatting with my friend. The band's manager is milling about and I am dying to talk to him and even more to get up there and sing backup on those fantastic Mystery songs I have loved for so much of my life. Michaela is warming up, playing scales on stage. I go over to my friend and A. and ask him how he got there so fast but he doesn't really have an answer for me. At this point, I've realized it was a dream but instead of being able to do whatever I want,  I just feel guilty that I haven't woken up yet, and everything starts moving slowly. At long last the manager comes over and flashes his million-watt smile in my direction. I hastily introduce myself to this absolute genius of a man and then before he can tell me what he wants me to do, I wake up so I can start my day. If only I had gotten there sooner...