Dark Parable: the drums

Dreamed of younger son. First we were in a house that seemed to once have been a performing arts theater. It was nice to live in although I didn't quite make myself at home in it. I had a husband who kinda looked like an army trainee recruit. (I think of Charlie Sheen in the film Cadence.) A sweet guy with army friends. Because the new apartment once a theater, the apartments, living arrangements, and rooms were a bit strange but nevertheless I liked living there and felt it was an improvement on my former place. Except that the house looked like a theater and was in the business section of town (which bothered me if it was coded for residential living.) It was very public on a public corner. There was even a fruit true (like our pear tree?) in the back. I was going upstairs with younger son but although our apartment was on the second floor, the elevators seemed to go between floors and you had to take a stair to the floor proper.

After losing son for a while in the tangle to get to our rooms, I found him and he joined me on the elevator with my boss' wife. I wanted to show her that he wasn't stupid and she seemed surprised that he actually knew his own name. Aaargh. (In real life, she's a sweetie, though.) She looked at his feet as he entered the elevator. In the dream one of his middle toes were twisted. She said, "What happened to his toe/foot?" I knew that the toes were broken because he kicks sometimes when he's angry and it's ruined his feet. But I didn't say it. (In dreams, whenever someone asks me a question, I pay real attention to it when I wake. Cause I know I'm being directed to think of something. So now, of course, I'm worried that younger son is hurting his foot with all that kicking of walls and furniture and people that he does.) I just walked away worried about his feet. When we got off we found a music studio called Blue Labs. Younger son picked up a guitar lying outside but the musicians were very angry that he touched it. Also seems that that Blue Labs was closed.

Met a girl named Risky. She and I began talking about learning to live in the strange house in which we had found ourselves. I said, "I've been thinking of this as something I was just passing through, but even if I'm just passing through here, it's better than the old pace. And since I don't know how long I'll be here, I'll try to make this look as much as my home." So my husband and I took out all the stuff I had in boxes -- toys, toiletries, furniture, etc-- and we started to actually decorate the place and accept that it was home. I remember a bathroom that looked like a beauty parlor with five chairs in front of a large mirror. It was a strange house but it felt as if we had a community. I got annoyed with my husband though because he brought an army buddy home to stay with us. Then younger son found a little toy drum outside of another music studio and attempted to play it. But he hit it once then opened his mouth as if he was screaming. No sound came out of course but there was the feeling that he wanted to scream and that that was what he was doing, screaming out his frustrations. One of the musicians in the room looked at me and said, "I will do it. I will brave teaching him." I thought he was very sweet to volunteer to do that. But I also think he felt it was very necessary that younger son learn the drums. I suspect it was a music angel who volunteered. (Yes, folks can laugh but I decided a long time ago not to care if what I said was laughable to some folks. Life is too fricking short to fall into the snare of the fear of man.)

So upshot....am gonna teach younger sons to play drums, but it might be hard. Am taking this as advice from God. Will honor the dream by buying the kid a drum. Maybe asking a (patient) drummer friend to teach him. Will see.