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Three Gems

February 27, 2008

Weird dreams are not uncommon for me. I have them all the time. Often they are completely off the-wall-make-no-sense-silly-sometimes-scary weird. But mostly they are somewhat mundane with a seemingly nonsensical element or two thrown in just to make me scratch my head in the morning. Like the time I dreamt I was at the mall with a buddy of mine from work, and for some reason we stopped in a barber shop and I cut his hair. Still haven’t figured that one out.


First I should explain that I’ve been kicking around the idea of buying a guitar. I played years ago. I took lessons when I was 9 or 10, but I got bored and quit. Then I picked it up again in my early teens, but once again grew bored with the lessons and quit. A few years after that I sold both my guitars and my amp and used the money to buy a Commodore 64. That should give you an idea of how long it’s been since I’ve played. So why now? What got me thinking about it? I don’t know for sure. I know a few buddies started playing a couple years ago. And few of the guys on the creative team at work have their guitars at work. But I used to find it annoying and thought them to be slackers. So why did I suddenly become fascinated with guitars? When I go by their desk and the guitar is just sitting there on the side table, I have to fight the urge to touch the strings. But I’ve still been fighting the urge. I tell myself it’s a waste of money. I won’t stick with it again. I’ll get bored and it will sit there collecting dust.

Then I had the dream two nights ago.

I made my way down a local street here in the city, one I am familiar with. At the corner, I turned into the doorway of a music store.  (There is no store there in real life) I looked at the sign on the inside of the old glass and wood frame door. They opened at 8:30am. My watch said it was exactly 8:30. I try the door and it opens, a bell jingles and announces my arrival. An old man comes out of the back of the store and hobbles his way toward me. I want to leave. I am thinking this will be awkward. I know nothing about music. He will know everything and pressure me into buying some old piece of junk. The old man gets closer. He is wearing a t-shirt, but no pants. Just briefs. Loose dangly old man briefs. But he doesn’t seem to care, and I make no mention of it. He looks at me and knows I want a guitar. He smiles and says he knows just what I need. He sits down at an old desk and I pull up across from him. He pulls some pieces and parts off the wall and I watch while he proceeds to build me an entire guitar from scratch. He glues the wood parts together, sands it, attaches the neck, adds the strings, everything. He smiles while putting the finishing touches on the lacquer.  He embeds three tiny gems into the pick guard, setting them into place then applying the lacquer finish on top. Every now and then, catholic school girls in uniforms would come in to pay for lessons they were taking. The old man would get up and talk to them and take the money. They seemed to like him and asked where “ma” was.  He said she was still sleeping in the back. The whole time he still had no pants on, the girls didn’t seem to notice or this was normal. When he was done the guitar it was absolutely beautiful. He handed it to me and said to take it.  I asked him how much knowing I couldn’t afford a hand made guitar. He told me to take it, it was mine. Just try it, let me know how you like it, and we can talk about money at another time. He just wanted me to enjoy it. I left the store holding my new custom hand made treasure.

The dream ended there. I woke up later and replayed it in my head all day. It was another one of those vivid dreams. I even remembered the smell of the music shop, the shuffling sound of the old mans footsteps across the creaky hardwood floor. I am not sure what to make of it. But I’m pretty sure I’m buying a guitar soon. And if it ends up collecting dust after a year or so, so what. A few hundred dollars for a year’s entertainment is well worth it.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. healthykitty permalink
    February 28, 2008 12:19 am

    ohhh – dreams where you can remember the *smell* – those are awesome. So real, so vivid, so true.

    can’t wait to hear where this one takes you.

  2. February 28, 2008 12:42 am

    I can hear the music coming from your beautiful guitar…may your fingers develop calaous (sp?) painlessly. what kind of music do you want to play?
    DH can teach you some sea shanti’s when he comes.

  3. February 28, 2008 7:55 am

    The timing of this topic is great for me, too, Sylvain.

    I have a 30-year-old Ovation acoustic sleeping in her case not 10 feet from me. She and I went all over the place back when she was new–I remember performing Hotel California in Neufchateau, a small town in France south of Nancy. My friends and I visited Neufchateau frequently because there was a girls’ school there. No dummies, us!

    Just in the last few days, I was thinking about taking her out and seeing how much we remembered of our time together. I have not played in years, but there is no way I would ever part with her. Maybe this weekend will present a good opportunity to allow her out for some exercise…

  4. February 28, 2008 10:55 pm

    yeah, I’ve creative urges too. It’s something in our hearts and souls urging us on.

    I am so glad you are listening to them and getting a guitar.

  5. February 29, 2008 11:03 pm

    Ah, a prophetic dream indeed!

    Here are my three treasures. Guard and keep them! The first is pity; the second, frugality; the third, refusal to be ‘foremost of all things under heaven’.
    For only he that pities is truly able to be brave;
    Only he that is frugal is able to be profuse.
    Only he that refuses to be foremost of all things
    Is truly able to become chief of all Ministers.


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