On Sunday, March 16, I attended the candlelight vigil for peace at Montgomery Place. It involved singing.
This morning (for I think I have all my dreams in the morning, whereas as a child I had them at night), I dreamed that I was at an event. I don’t remember details, other than that it may have been outdoors in a rural place. There was singing. I was reluctant to join in (as in real life). But I did. And I could hear myself singing beautifully. Clear, bell-like, on-key tones. It felt miraculous.
After it was over, a certain red-headed childhood acquaintance whom I’d noticed strolled over and told me something to the effect of I should never participate in any kind of group singing again, that I was just awful.
And in my dream I felt the same way about him.
I woke up sad and hurt. Again.