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THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2008 (9:18 AM)

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Sleeping with Grieg

Lying in bed, a half-hour after I first fell asleep, I awoke from a dream. It was slipping away, even as I lay there, and I knew I must get out of bed and write it down. If not, it would be lost.

As I started to type, I struggled to bring it back, as it foundered beneath the waves of two other dreams that preceded it.

I went to bed to the music of Edward Grieg. Normally, it takes ten to fifteen minutes for me to fall asleep, but thirteen minutes later I awoke from my first dream.

We were younger, much younger; by thirty-five years, in fact. It was before we were married. We were sitting at a table in the dimly lit dining room of a sumptuous restaurant. All the other tables were empty, with no waiter in sight, but it did not matter, because we were satisfied with the single bowl of soup on the table before us.

We sat close together, with my right arm wrapped around her. As I brought my arm back to my side, I reached for the bowl of ivory porcelain with my left hand and placed it into my right. It was shallow, and perhaps nine inches across, and I held it from beneath. I reached for the spoon, one of delicate silver, and dipped it into the broth that seemed to shimmer within the bowl. Nearly pearlescent, it shifted between silver and gold as I broke the surface with the spoon.

“How odd,” I thought, “that I should be doing this with my left hand.” Yet somehow it seemed natural.

As I raised the spoon to her lips I could see notes float into the air as they left the broth. As the spoon touched her lips, I could feel the glow that spread through her body. I had introduced her to classical music, and the rapture she experienced was unmistakable.

It was then that I awoke for the first time, the last notes of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor fading away. As the first of Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Morning Mood, started to play, I once again fell asleep. Almost immediately, I was sitting at my mother’s side, trying my best to soothe her worries and fears away. As I gently stroked her arm, I realized she was at peace, and that the worry and fear were my own.

The peace she felt flowed from her arm into mine, and I felt as though my burden had lessened to a small degree. Music played in my mind, as concern for her dissipated with the warmth that flowed into me. My worries for her were gone, but I knew that my fear lay dormant beneath the warmth I felt.

I awoke again, but only briefly; this time to the first notes of Aasses Death. The light of dawn was filtered through a sheer curtain of gauze, so that I seemed to be looking through shadows. The room was one of darkly paneled walls, and I sat in an overstuffed chair of worn, forest green velvet. The lamp on the table beside me threw a pale yellow light through a cream colored shade. Tassels hanging from the shade rustled as I reached across the table for a gilded letter opener lying beneath the lamp.

As I held it before me, I felt the razor sharp edge that glinted even in the pale light and knew that it would serve the purpose. I raised it to my throat, knowing how it would appear should someone happen to enter the room.

But it was not my intent to take my life. Carefully, I drew a fine line, half the length of the blade, to the side of an artery, then laid the opener on the table. No more than a scratch, the cut I made showed a bare trace of blood, forming just one drop in the next few minutes. I let that drop fall onto the green velvet and knew that my fear was gone.

What that fear was I may never know. Before it could speak to me, it was gone. I awoke to the last notes of Aasses Death and left my bed to write this down.

The titles of those last two movements by Grieg seem appropriate for my dreams, but I haven’t read anything about that music in years. It’s a coincidence I’ll be thinking about for a some time.

It’s 4:00 in the morning, and I have been up for an hour-and-a half. I’m heading back to bed now to hear the rest of that Peer Gynt Suite, knowing it will be a while before I’ll have the opportunity to remember my dreams in such detail.

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Posted Oct 22, 08 by NatureJunkie (

)
A dream in three movements, each one distinct but cohesive with the others. What an atmospheric piece this is, Ken. I can almost hear it.

Posted Sep 26, 08 by tree3
What an auspicious dream.
Or dreams -
and so comprehensive of your recent consciousness.
The third dream is such a logical examination of the roles of the other two dreams, a resolution, if you will.

I will never be concerned about you, Ken, you have a vision of your life, and of life in general which is the fruit of examination and art.