a pleasant dream

I like a pleasant dream once in a while.

Last night I went to bed, having spent some crunch time working on another of my poetry/music fusions, this one in honor of Psyche, a/k/a the Electric Lady. I dreamed from the music, an acoustic guitar driven piece, inspired by the works of Neil Young and Nicky Hopkins, appropriately enough. .

In the dream we encountered each other on a bus, as persons both of who we are and who we were, and spoke at length. She was as brilliant as I recall, and as beautiful. We touched, but nothing more...she is, after all, at last word, a married woman and I have largely retired the aspect of roguishness that enabled me to sleep with married women. Also, as the dream projected my desire, I saw her as someone happy and certain in her life, and Lord knows I has sown enough discontent in the lives of others without making a new muck of hers.

But it was a pleasant dream, a pleasant scene, so much so that I verbalized that very thought upon waking. It was the most peace I have felt, waking alone, in some time.

The sense of peace lasted just long enough for me to note that my email is down. Grumble. But I am still left with the sense of a pleasant surprise on the road between two places and a face that I did need to see once more, if just to remind me that people are who they are, not who I define them to be.