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dream theater
Sep. 11th, 2006 10:30 amI woke up at about 7am this morning and then rolled over (I can roll over!) and went back to sleep in my omgsocomfy bed. And some time over the following two, two and half hours, I had a sort of odd dream.
I dreamed that I was in a small chamber-orchestra type thing back at my school. I haven't played the violin in years, and in the dream I hadn't either, but I was doing better than I'm sure I would be doing if I tried to play right now. I was playing second, anyway, and at one point the other violinist (whom I recognized, and who wasn't someone I'd gone to school with, but I can't remember anymore who it was) asked me how we were going to deal with dividing up the parts, and I said any time they split, you take the top note, man. And then our practice thing ended and I chose not to leave my violin in the music room, because I thought it would be safer somewhere else.
The following day, I took the bus to the junior high school and couldn't find my violin. It wasn't in the room where I thought I'd left it, I mean to say, and it wasn't on the stage with the music stands (a stage, by the way, that did not exist in that configuration in any building I've ever gone to school in). The music teacher was in his classroom -- the one where I'd decided not to leave the thing -- and I knocked on the door and asked him if he knew what was what, explained that I'd chosen not to leave my instrument in his room because blah blah blah, dealt with the Look he gave me (because his room had been locked overnight, of course, so wtf), and asked if he could help me. We looked around the same places I'd already looked and didn't find it. I was beginning to feel anxious; this was my grandmother's violin (true in real life), and it would be Very Bad Indeed if I'd lost it. I reminded the teacher that the case was squared off on the ends like a trumpet case, rather than violin-shaped, and was blue. (True.) He said well, he had to go talk to someone at the high school that day, so if I wanted we could also look up there.
So we walked to the high school, which in real life would be much more difficult but not technically impossible, and he went to his meeting, and I started looking around for my violin. Finally, I found it, in a pile of instrument cases near a bunch of coat hooks or something -- not at all a good place to leave it -- and just as I'd found it, my parents came down some stairs and said hi to me and left the building.
I chased them and caught up with my mother and asked what on earth they were doing there. Someone at the school called and wanted to talk to them, she said. About me? Well, yes. That doesn't make sense, though; I graduated from high school eleven years ago. Apparently, this didn't matter; they still wanted to talk to my parents about my behavior and so on. My mother wasn't allowed to tell me specifically what the meeting had been about. Come on, I said to her, of course you can tell me, what will happen?, and the fact that they asked for the meeting is completely ridiculous in the first place. Apparently my father had agreed, and been unhappy that they'd called him in, and brought a bunch of documentation with him to demonstrate ... something. How stupid the meeting was? How my behavior was fine? I don't remember. But just as my mother was about to cave and tell me what had prompted my school to call this meeting, I woke up. I turned over and drifted back to sleep for long enough to be aware of some official from my school asking my parents if they were aware I was having sex -- let me say again, I'm twenty-nine -- and then I woke up with the phone ringing. (Don't get excited -- it was the same telemarketer who's been responsible for 70% of calls to the land line. I suppose one of these times I should answer and tell them to quit calling me.)
Analysis welcome.
I am going to hit the shower and then spend today applying for jobs. Again.
I dreamed that I was in a small chamber-orchestra type thing back at my school. I haven't played the violin in years, and in the dream I hadn't either, but I was doing better than I'm sure I would be doing if I tried to play right now. I was playing second, anyway, and at one point the other violinist (whom I recognized, and who wasn't someone I'd gone to school with, but I can't remember anymore who it was) asked me how we were going to deal with dividing up the parts, and I said any time they split, you take the top note, man. And then our practice thing ended and I chose not to leave my violin in the music room, because I thought it would be safer somewhere else.
The following day, I took the bus to the junior high school and couldn't find my violin. It wasn't in the room where I thought I'd left it, I mean to say, and it wasn't on the stage with the music stands (a stage, by the way, that did not exist in that configuration in any building I've ever gone to school in). The music teacher was in his classroom -- the one where I'd decided not to leave the thing -- and I knocked on the door and asked him if he knew what was what, explained that I'd chosen not to leave my instrument in his room because blah blah blah, dealt with the Look he gave me (because his room had been locked overnight, of course, so wtf), and asked if he could help me. We looked around the same places I'd already looked and didn't find it. I was beginning to feel anxious; this was my grandmother's violin (true in real life), and it would be Very Bad Indeed if I'd lost it. I reminded the teacher that the case was squared off on the ends like a trumpet case, rather than violin-shaped, and was blue. (True.) He said well, he had to go talk to someone at the high school that day, so if I wanted we could also look up there.
So we walked to the high school, which in real life would be much more difficult but not technically impossible, and he went to his meeting, and I started looking around for my violin. Finally, I found it, in a pile of instrument cases near a bunch of coat hooks or something -- not at all a good place to leave it -- and just as I'd found it, my parents came down some stairs and said hi to me and left the building.
I chased them and caught up with my mother and asked what on earth they were doing there. Someone at the school called and wanted to talk to them, she said. About me? Well, yes. That doesn't make sense, though; I graduated from high school eleven years ago. Apparently, this didn't matter; they still wanted to talk to my parents about my behavior and so on. My mother wasn't allowed to tell me specifically what the meeting had been about. Come on, I said to her, of course you can tell me, what will happen?, and the fact that they asked for the meeting is completely ridiculous in the first place. Apparently my father had agreed, and been unhappy that they'd called him in, and brought a bunch of documentation with him to demonstrate ... something. How stupid the meeting was? How my behavior was fine? I don't remember. But just as my mother was about to cave and tell me what had prompted my school to call this meeting, I woke up. I turned over and drifted back to sleep for long enough to be aware of some official from my school asking my parents if they were aware I was having sex -- let me say again, I'm twenty-nine -- and then I woke up with the phone ringing. (Don't get excited -- it was the same telemarketer who's been responsible for 70% of calls to the land line. I suppose one of these times I should answer and tell them to quit calling me.)
Analysis welcome.
I am going to hit the shower and then spend today applying for jobs. Again.
