Dream Journal
I was sitting at the piano in my parents’ basement with my instructor, Shelly, on my right: it is time for my piano lessons. My turn was over, Melissa’s turn was over, and now it was Rodney and Jen’s turn.
They tried to sit on the bench together and play, but it wasn’t working. Shelly made them get up so she could play a piece for them. She turned her book to a song I learned how to play years ago, but she didn’t have a change to play it because lesson time ran out. Her daughter stormed into the room with her beginner’s book and demanded that it was her turn. Her hair was white as though she were an albino.
I was in my truck on the streets of Anchor Point driving to Homer and come to an intersection. I saw a man riding towards me on a bicycle; I recognized him. He had shoulder length dirty hair pulled back into a low, crude ponytail. He looked right at me and rode past.
We pulled up to a stoplight, a man was driving now and there were others in the vehicle with us. We were alone in the left lane, and the right lane was full. He backed up from the intersection line so that we could all see a woman wearing a lot of colorful clothing and makeup. She was sitting in a car a few vehicles back from the line. She was of a different culture and very exotically beautiful.