Waiting for the music.
Saturday, Feb. 15, 2003 - 9:46 a.m.
And in the dream he could see all of the things that had been set out for all to take. Well not all of the things actually. What he saw were things he had once made, and then forgot.
And here they were, laid out as if on a table, somewhere around ten of them. Nothing all that special really. Just little things that were meant to be small gifts showing his appreciation.
He never knew who took what. It never mattered to him. In fact he never even thought about who had what, and here were a few of those things, not spread randomly over time. Here they were as a group, a set if you will.
And she had left them there on the table spread out as if on display. And he saw them in a different light.
So this is what she took. These were the things that meant something to her. Why was she returning them? It wasn't as if he knew she had them in the first place, even though he was sure she had taken some of his gifts.
Why were some of them covered with a cardboard tunnel held together with tape? The significance of all this escaped him as he turned his thoughts to the girl who had returned the gifts.
Her name was hmmmm well let's just call her music. After all, doesn't the word music reflect well the person it is pinned on?
He sat there waiting. Ever waiting for the music to return. And wondering why the gifts were gathered in this one spot. He sits there still, waiting...waiting....and just wondering why.
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