Last night I dreamed of that place again, the one where I am living a different life and learning new things. Where things are interesting and ever-changing.
In my dream, I was learning to play a guitar – at least, a guitar is the closest I can get to a description for it. It was made of beautiful pale blond wood, like a very long bass guitar with just two thick strings and no frets. It wasn’t an electric, but it was slim and I couldn’t see where the resonating chamber could be. It sounds strange, but this guitar you played with your emotions as well. By plucking the strings in the conventional way with a thumb, great variation of sound was possible just by making a tiny movement. The same was true of the left hand, what would be the fretting hand if there were frets. By using the two in harmony, and also by involving ones emotions and playing ‘from the heart’, beautiful music was possible. I own a guitar but I don’t play, I never really learned beyond a few chords. In my dream, I am not very good and I know I’m not even tapping the surface of what the instrument is capable of, but still the music I am making is more beautiful than anything I have ever heard. I am almost crying in the dream, because its so amazing to be playing like that. I’m so happy, happier than I’ve ever felt in my life on earth. When I wake up, the gorgeous dream stays with me so much that I hardly have room in my heart to be disappointed that it was a ‘only’ dream. I smile in the darkness, and try and memorize the look of the instrument. It looked something like a lute actually, with an overlong neck. There was someone with me, watching me play. They told me something I can’t quite remember, about how popular this new instrument was, and it was in high demand and sold out very quickly. I was determined to get one of my own. I saw on the back the name of it was written in curlicue writing, by being etched onto the wood with heat. I can’t remember what it was now.
I’m learning to drive in my dreams, too. That works with intention as well a physicality. You have to intend how fast to go and where, and you do. It reminds me a little of the Intention Craft from Philip Pullman’s book The Amber Spyglass. I can’t drive in real life; perhaps when I do learn, my dreams will be of help to me 
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