...a dream three nights ago.
I was in a place of rooms. Many odd people were coming and going. The milieu was charged with a semi-intellectual or pseudo-artistic resonance. A woman, unusually attired (like a Bulgarian celebrant?), was hithering and thithering in the background, coming in and going out of view. She seemed to be dependent on my intrinsic je ne sais quo to support the structure of her being. Or to rescue her from some fate that was being vaugely spun off-camera, so to speak. Her eyes, during sporadic glances, moved across the outlines of my own nocturnal being. But only glancing from the vaguest background.
some rather dramatic black-haired guy kept coming up to me. He projected the persona of a half-concierge, half-master of ceremony. And he kept speaking a phrase to me in French. Something about them all awaiting my performance of "la musique sur un thème spirituel."
I eventually woke up.
So I've been thinking about that dream. Aspects of it are obviously narcissistic. I mean...a gathering of souls around and for me! Jeez, how uncomfortable. And how impossible it would have been to extract myself, other than by waking up. But I'm more struck by the pervading atmosphere of the thing: it was like some half-lit purgatory, with much unkown significance afoot.
Well...dreams are neat and weird.
An appropriate soundtrack: