Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

Just woke from a dream about merde.

Merde had come to visit me, at some institution I ran or helped to run. (The general floor plan of the building was like a scaled- up version of my mother's house, and it had all this furniture that looked like the lobby of an organization that really wanted to impress visitors.) She was about to leave -- I'm not sure whether I had to take her to the airport to drop her off, or we were flying somewhere together -- but she insisted that I listen to the latest song that she'd written. She had an acoustic guitar, of course, but I had to find her an electric one for the song, and she insisted on a Telecaster. I was worried about time, but unable to resist the idea of getting a sneak preview of her next song, so I nervously located an axe and plugged it in.

The song turned out to be an upbeat -- uh, cheerful-sounding, actually -- number that was simultaneously about gangsters shooting each other, and Merde's comeback as a singer/songwriter. It had a little bit of slide work in it. And it was almost impossible for me not to dance to (in real life it's difficult to get me to dance unless I'm playing a reel or a jig), and I wound up doing a whole lot of fancy dance moves. At some point I realized the song really needed a percussion track, so my shoes suddenly became tap shoes and I provided the percussion with my feet. The limo driver watched us, and every so often I'd glance at him then the clock then Merde, wondering whether we were going to leave in time. When the song ended, I told Merde that I would be really honored if she'd let me produce/engineer the recording of it.

It's unusual that I remember having dreamt, more unusual that I remember any details of the dream. This is two partially-remembered dreams in eight days. Odd.