Wednesday, September 17, 2014

It was the conclusion of a strange and perplexing dream in which S. and I were junkies looking to score. I was trying to get somewhere across town so I took a shortcut through a building which turned out to be a church. There was something going on there—not a service exactly, more like a Sunday school class or a rehearsal of some kind. There were musicians present, black gospel cats. I thought they might play something great, and I should stop and listen. Right then the dream became lucid—I was aware that this was my dream, and that I had control of it. Actually, I did not feel I had full control, only a certain amount of influence, depending on how hard I tried. Like I'd been dealt a hand and it was in my power to play it as best I could. So I conjured up Charlie Parker in the middle of the musicians. There he was, standing at least ten feet tall, with his horn. Then I thought I'd better give him a tune to play and I tried to think of something, "Lover Man" or something, kind of regretting now that I had to decide what happened in this dream, that I was no longer a spectator. And then it ended.