Slept very late last night and was hoping to sleep in until mid-morning at least, but with so much light and life going on outside, I just couldn’t, comfortable and warm as my bed was (and who’s ever heard of forcing onesself to sleep in?). Also it was doubly hard to return to a restful state because I was awoken by a disturbing dream.

Every so often, I have weird, vivid dreams. They tend to involve people I haven’t seen in a while but wonder about from time to time. Some of these dreams have been so strong, they have motivated me to reconnect with many a friend from the past. While this recent dream featured no long lost friend, it was nuanced with all sorts of (unfortunately) familiar undercurrents lurking in my psyche.

Location: Looks like the former UBC Faculty Club, dimly lit. The evening is winding down, people are leaving, and my sister and I are finishing some drinks at the bar. She goes off somewhere, leaving me alone. An older man to my left starts chatting me up. Actually, he’s quite old, old enough to be my grandfather and bearing a strong resemblance to Noam Chomsky. He’s fashionably dressed, suave, charismatic, and quite forward.

I find out he’s a math professor, just about to retire. There’s a party for his retirement the following week, a white tie affair, and would I like to go with him as his date? I politely turn him down. Then another man, dark and handsome, comes by to give back to me my acoustic guitar, returned in good form. It turns out he is the professor’s colleague and is also attending the retirement party. He is recently widowed, so his daughter is accompanying him, as a favour.

dscn2141.JPGThe math professor asks me to play something on the guitar, but I decline. Then my sister comes back, and she takes the guitar and plucks at the strings aimlessly. We all start agreeing how accessible and mesmerizing the sound of the guitar is. Then the professor takes the guitar and starts toying around with it. I don’t like strangers I don’t trust touching my things, so I detangle myself from him, take back my guitar, and go.

After we leave the club, I confide in my sister my strong dislike for the math professor. For some reason, I found him creepy and manipulative and express my wish never to see him again. As we walk under the boulevard of trees towards the bus stop, I start playing my guitar. But I discover that 2 strings have been removed! Also, each string has been retuned to play the same note. Very sinister. It is obvious the professor had tampered with my guitar. And I felt put in a bind: while I didn’t want to see this person again, I felt the need confront him and demand the return of my strings. Oh what to do?

And then I woke up.

I think I seriously need to get my head checked.

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