Music Inside

  In my dream last night, my guitar was making pretty music but the strings were made out of wire and all but two were broken and curled. The invisible man who usually talks but is never seen was telling me how to play correctly but all I could think about were the broken wires and how strange the dream was because I don't even play a guitar! Even weirder, I woke up to the sound of two very loud cords in my room and intuitively thought those were the ones my body needs to hear. While drinking coffee, my daughter said how she had heard beautiful music and a guitar, causing me to almost die on the spot from choking on my coffee.

 Yes, this day was spent on reflection of that dream but it just now made sense after I double spaced. Before going to bed, my sister Rose called talking a hundred miles a minute. Rose, the artist who married the Jew, moved to Chicago and now has to wait tables so that her kids can eat like kings. (her words) Rose, the red headed sister of mine who was an actress and always wanted to meet David Letterman. She laughs louder than most, can carry seven folded bath towels on top of her head, dancing and singing jazz. My stomach hurts when we're together from laughing.

 Before going to bed last night, I did feel angry because she didn't hear me or let me finish my sentence. If dreams are there to remind us of the importance of hearing the music and ignoring the broken pieces, I'm glad to have them! Thanks for letting me get this out. I hope you are the cord that plays music.