Saturday, September 25, 2004

I just woke up from the strangest dream.

I was in an old building. It was snowing outside. Then I realized that I was on the campus of Wheaton. I'm not sure how I knew this, because the particular building I was in wasn't a building from Wheaton at all, but it all just felt like Wheaton, you know? I just knew it was Wheaton. Then I looked out of a window and I could see all the buildings of Wheaton... the steeple from the chapel, and the tower of Blanchard, and everything. But I was in this open, spacious, mainly deserted building. It was kind of run-down, and the only things inside of this big main room were a few chairs and music stands. It was almost like an old barn. And there I was, and I realized that I was there to rehearse chamber music with my teacher and his wife (a cellist). For some reason, I was playing a concert with them, and the concert was the next day. I hadn't seen the music before, and I was basically sight-reading. We sat down, but before we could really start rehearsing, something happened and we all kind of dispersed. There was something they had to do, or something. I was just waiting for a while. I walked out of the main room onto a sort of snowy porch, which, oddly enough, felt a lot like the snowy porch at Jen's family's cabin, where I spent last Thanksgiving. I wasn't sure what my teacher and his wife were doing, so whether we were taking a real break or not, and how long this break might be, was all kind of unclear to me. I guess I decided that I might have enough time to wander the campus a bit. Dear old Wheaton.

I went to Saga, the cafeteria. I walked inside and it felt just like it always did. I could smell beef and barley soup, the kind I loved so much. I looked around and realized that there were a lot of things that were different now. People were standing at various stations serving specifically sized portions of things like soups and salads, which they never used to do. And all the stations were in different places. There was a guy over to the right, where the conveyor for trays used to be, in the little area with the tall tables and chairs, and he was standing there serving soup. It was sort of like that Chinese sizzling rice soup, except instead of individual bits of rice, it was filled with rice cakes. All of Saga was mostly deserted; I realized then that it was late and they were closing up. The guy asked me if I wanted some soup, and I said no thank you. I went ouside onto the snowy pathway. I felt sad and missed Wheaton a lot. I hadn't seen anyone I knew in Saga. A woman I didn't know followed me outside and said, "you can eat some, you know." She then proceeded to tell me that the carbs in the rice from the soup weren't really so bad, and if I wanted to I could even pick the rice out and eat the vegetables. I told her that I wasn't on a no-carb diet, but that I used to go to Wheaton, and I just felt so sad about missing everyone and everything that I knew if I sat in Saga, I might cry. She was nice. She said something about how she would talk to some specific man (I didn't recognize the name at all, although she gave one), and see about getting me to come back to Wheaton. I remember feeling like I kind of wanted to go back.

I wanted to walk to the Conservatory and see people. I wanted to see Kelly and Elizabeth, and Debbie Rodgers, and Ethan, and Dr. Joiner, and Gretchen (she graduated two years ago so of course she wouldn't have been there; dreams seldom make sense), and Pam, and Calvin, and Matt, and Graeme, and Ruth and Hannah, and Christine, and Laine, and Chutch (Cheryl), and Dr. Saylor, and oh, everyone... I wanted to go to Fischer too, and see Kara as well. But for some reason I knew I didn't have time, and I remember thinking that I would still be able to go and see them on the following day. (In the end I didn't get to see them, because I woke up before the next day happened; I'm sad about that.)

I walked back to the old place where we were rehearsing. I remember thinking that I should invite my friends from Wheaton to the concert, which I think was sometime the next day. I somehow had the understanding that the concert was going to be in College Church, sort of like that concert my teacher and his wife did there once when I was a student at Wheaton.

When I arrived back at the old building, all the people from the choir here at Gordon were standing in the little narrow hallways leading into the main room. I stood there and we all sang "Dere's No Hiding Place," because for some reason the music was lying around and someone picked it up and started singing. Jaana and I had it memorized, so we joined in on the alto part. Then Dr. Ou came up to me and it was time to go from the hallway back into the main building and rehearse some more.

However, as we walked toward the main room, we could hear that someone was playing the Mozart oboe concerto inside. We went inside, and there was a whole group of people in our rehearsal room, and it was kind of both a children's choir and a children's youth orchestra, all at the same time. I also had some vague impression of some members of the Gordon Symphony Orchestra being there as well. Dr. O. told them it was our rehearsal space, so they all left. Then we were rehearsing chamber music. Melissa was suddenly there, and while she wasn't playing anything, she sat beside me and watched my music over my shoulder, which made me very nervous. We played something by Prokofiev, and then we were doing some Bach Cantata, but don't ask me how, since cantatas aren't for small string ensembles. We also played a slow piece in 6/8 with some dotted rhythms. It was a beautiful piece. We didn't rehearse for very long; suddenly everyone was packing up and it was raining I think, and I was confused, and I remember not knowing exactly what we were playing for the concert. I knew I needed to practice, but I didn't know what to work on. I had a whole folder of music that Mr. B. had given me, and I didn't know where to start or what we would be playing the following day.

And somewhere in the midst of this, I woke up.

(They say that there is nothing more boring than telling people your dreams. Oh well... I kind of wanted to write it down while I remembered it, because usually after I've been awake for more than a few minutes, I forget all my dreams.)

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