I sometimes dream about music, but I more often dream about not-music – about preparing for rehearsals or performances, getting to the venue (which is most often somewhere other than real life), getting books or sheet music (very often the print is too small or the light too dim), robes or concert clothes (I can’t find them, I struggle to put them on, they don’t fit, they don’t match everyone else’s), all with a lurking feeling that I haven’t practiced enough.
Last night I had a long and involved dream that I was about to play piano and/or organ in a concert with someone I knew from university who is now a Facebook friend. (We didn’t study together – I’d already finished by the time I met him. My major was piano but I also play organ, his was organ but he also plays piano.) There were phone calls and messages back and forward about what each person was going to play, and car trips in different directions to get to the venue.
Then I woke up without actually having played any music.
One of my dreams last night was that an Eminent Linguist (a real person, but I’m not telling you his name) was visiting Australia, and was staying in a big house with a big garden. I was hiding in his garden hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I summoned up the courage to knock on the door. He was delighted to see me – apparently I’d been assigned by the Australian Linguistics Society (I’m not a member) to be his assistant while he was here. (He looked way different, including about 30 years younger, than the photo on his blog, but you know how people (and places) in dreams just are.) The rest of the dream was more about getting from place to place by a confusing sequence of transport and routes than actually talking about linguistics.
A few months ago I asked on an online forum whether people’s dreams match their extrovert v introvert type. I think I asked because I’d just had an unusually extroverted dream. In most of my dreams, I am either alone or with people but not interacting with them.
One dream last night involved a choir rehearsal (one of my former choirs, but in an unfamiliar church building). During our supper in the foyer, someone miraculous quickly totally decorated the main part of the building in bright red tinsel. Almost everyone else oohed and aahed and rushed to take photos, but I sat down on a couch in the foyer, marking up my choral scores, assisted by another chorister. I like taking photos, but I don’t like scrambling among other people to take them, and I really don’t like bright red tinsel anywhere, let alone in church buildings. The chorister who was helping me is also a keen photographer.
Another dream involved being caught up in a James Bond story, but not interacting with the characters, just ducking out of the way whenever they came by. James Bond got shot and killed for real.