Dreams; angles

We've all read stories in which "character X came to me in a dream" is part of the narrative.

Well, that actually has happened to me, but that's a story for another day. Here's the story for today...

I guess you'd have to describe this as "I came to me in a dream."

In this dream, I was back on the Yale campus, for one of our every-five-years reunions. The "reunion headquarters" for the class housed on the Old Campus is always located in a room off to the side of a chapel that houses a very nice von Beckerath organ. The last time I was there in "waking life," the gates to the organ console were locked (back in my own day, they were usually open, and I still remember even today where the keys for the console itself were kept).

So in this dream, I'm looking at the organ, I'm looking at the locked gates, and I think, "I don't care if I 'can't play the organ' any more. I'm playing this organ." And I go about to various reunion staffers, explaining what my relationship to/with this instrument was (including how I performed at the funeral of one of my classmates, who took her own life during the final weeks of our senior year) and how dammit, I wanted to play it, even if I couldn't "play it" because of my malfunctioning legs.

And this, I think, is the road I need to travel. Not back to New Haven to play an organ I can't play, but to "play it anyway." Even if I can't.

Because, I still can. Just... differently.

A quote from Jean Genet, from his novel The Thief's Journal: 

“Limited by the world, which I oppose, jagged by it, I shall be all the more handsome and sparkling as the angles which wound me and give me shape are more acute and the jagging more cruel.”