Rachel Young

saturday, august 11, 2001

I fell asleep watching tv tonight. It’s the surefire way to put me to sleep. I get so bored watching television, it’s amazing if I actually last through one program.

Besides, the images in my head are usually far more interesting than the ones I see on the television screen anyway. While asleep, I dreamt I was wandering through an old neighborhood I used to live in when I was a kid. As I start heading closer and closer toward the woods in the back of my house, I can hear a beautiful melody being carried softly through the wind. I follow the sound and it leads me to a wide open space in the middle of the woods. And to my surprise, I see an extremely obese gentleman in sunglasses and a top hat playing the guitar. But the truly amazing thing is he only has six fingers—three on each hand. And yet he’s mastered the instrument and is playing for a huge audience, although I can’t see them but I know they’re there. I hear a wild applause after he’s done playing, and he begins to play another song. I listen to the words, and its beauty and sincerity tugs at my heart and eventually I find myself singing along though I’ve never heard the song before.

At the end of the song, he continues to sing one line of the chorus over and over again. And then I wake up. And at first, the song is so clear in my mind that I really begin to think it’s an actual song. But as I slowly begin to absorb my surroundings and realize I had only been dreaming, I soon forget the words. I know it’s not an actual song, and it frustrates me that I can’t remember how it went. It was so beautiful and enchanting.

But right now, the only image that stands out clearly are those six plump fingers gently strumming the strings of an old classical guitar.

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