I dreamt I was playing an old guitar, missing the G, for some old friends. They asked me to sing “wish you were here” to which I obliged. One friend, Kevin, came in perfectly with the solo. Tho each guitar was out of tune, the combined sound was emotionally stirring. In the dream I wept as I sang.
In dream I was older while my friends were younger, before their own malady, as I don’t see them as cripples but as men.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 