Every few years I have a grand nightmare that permeates me like a poison and takes days to get out of my system and I never really forget. I had one last weekend. I mentioned it. I’m still hungover from that, and it sounds so harmless to tell about. Once I dreamed about a boulder in the middle of a river, a thin layer of water flowing over its smooth, flat top. That still haunts me. This dream was about being stuck somewhere. There was more to it than that but that was the basic thing. Same thing with the boulder – I had murdered someone and hidden their body under it. Backstory is important. Once I dreamed I was fighting a guy. That was maybe more conventionally interesting. Other people sat around, watched television and didn’t notice that I was sawing at his jugular with a piece of broken window glass, or that blood was spraying out in a thin jet. Took forever to kill him, and he never really died.

With that on the inside of my head yesterday, I went to the luthier and bought a cello. I hated to do it, because I was enjoying the quest so much; learning so much about cellos etc. Ideally, I would have wanted to travel to a cello maker and buy one directly from him or her. See where they stack the wood they use to build it, see half-finished instruments scattered abo ut. Smell the wood shavings. But a time comes in the affairs of men when you have to shit or get off the pot, and that time was yesterday. The cello was at the upper end of my price range, well beyond it actually, my wife had granted permission, I had the money, sort of, in pocket and the likelihood of finding anything either better-sounding or prettier for that price was slim. Somewhere, someone I don’t know has a wonderful instrument gathering dust in their attic, but pff. So, nightmare in hand I went and bought it.

I always get shy and awed when I’m there. Imagine a jellyfish in a black suit, gasping for air, running a tentacle around its collar nervously. To make matters worse, two parents walked in looking for a “school cello” for their kid.

Things went well, though. I told the luthier my price, which was lower than the price he was asking. You’re saying you want to buy the cello for that price, he said. I’m saying I want to buy it, period, I said, but my wife and I discussed it, and my limit is this amount. For reasons unknown to me, he accepted that and I left with my cello. He even loaned me a case until I buy one: if any of you know where I can get a fantastic deal on a hard case, let me know.

Now, to find a bow.

I’ll have to post a picture of the cello, though. The maple back and sides are quite attractive, tiger-striped, which resonated with me as perhaps my most interesting nightmare ever involved a tiger; interesting because Gamma was not only in the dream, she remembered it too, after waking. It impressed me so much I am using it in a novel.

In other news, Alpha gave me a folding tripodic chair so Gamma and I don’t have to fight over the one we had when we go into the woods to draw, it was a wonderful present. And I think I’m getting a cake when I get home, because Gamma and I had this conversation this morning:

Girl: Maybe you’ll have a cake for your birthday.
Man: Maybe, but I doubt it, but that’s okay.
Girl: Everyone needs a cake on their birthday.
Man: No problem, I’ll survive. I don’t think I’m getting a cake.
Girl: Don’t you want a cake?
Man: I like cake. But that’s okay, honey.
Girl: Don’t feel bad, dad. Maybe you’ll get cake!
Man: No, I don’t think so.
Girl: Dad, no, maybe you’re getting cake!
Man: That’s nice of you to say that, but…
Girl: Dad, you’re getting cake!
Man: Heh.