I was in one of my favorite dream places, a subterranean cavern with boats and a handful of people that seemed like a crowd in them.
The water/areas were divided into quadrants, and the empty boats were all submerged to some degree. But this didn’t give me any concern as to their ability to float. I got into one and paddled around for a bit. I also walked through some water. The water was oddly green, and I had this feeling that came from somewhere it was magical in some way. Then someone from somewhere gave me quite a lecture on not stepping into one quadrant of water, then stepping into another. Somehow, this would be very bad. I defended myself and said I hadn’t, even though I hadn’t known.
Although this seemed at first to be a confined area, in a dreamlike way it expanded, and I came upon a cave filled with all kinds of showman-like stuff, including guitars. I started to count them, but there would always be one I missed. They were guitars that belonged to famous rock bands. An old, white-haired, bearded man who made me think of Burl Ives said if I counted them right I could have one. I never did get the count right, but he gave me one anyway. It did not look or feel anything like a guitar — the strings weren’t metal, but a clear nylon-like ribbon. Skeptically, and knowing that I don’t know anything about playing guitar, I started playing — and out came a perfectly rendered “Crocodile Rock.” I sat in the boat and played.
I came to an overpass or archway, and there was a young Elton John himself. I felt guilty to have his guitar (yes, I know he’s a piano man) and to be playing his song, but he just waved in good cheer and continued to perform. I really wanted to meet him and talk further — but I woke up.