Let's start with the epiphany:
I am not doing anything different during the Covid-19 crisis. In fact, I am doing all the exact same things that I used to do -
go to work
play music
bake bread
read
write
go for walks
enjoy sunshine / nature
catch up with friends
Of course some of those things are now different, like catching up with friends online instead of in real life. But the essence of my life is exactly the same. Except it feels different, because I have a newfound appreciation for my life. I feel grateful to have all these tiny simple things that make up the mosaic of my life, I am far more fortunate than I had ever realised.
The last few weeks have actually been really good - I am physically and mentally well, eating good food and sleeping soundly.
I also started doing "violin school" which is my way of actually getting into the technical side of playing the violin. Even though I've been playing for a decade now, adult amateurs like me with no solid foundation struggle with the technical stuff. I set myself a task to put a 25min timer on and play scales slowly once aday. I am asking myself if I have played the best note I can possibly produce today. I am also doing the Beethoven project to record the Beethoven violin sonatas with my friend in Toronto Emily - we are doing it one movement at a time, an extremely rewarding project. Listening to myself on recording makes me cringe - all the notes that are missed and imperfect, poorly executed or squeaky - but listening to myself has made me arrive at loving my own imperfection. This is the best I can produce at this point in time, not 10 years into the future when I will undoubtedly be better at playing the violin. I accept who I am right now.
-----
Onto the dreams...
Dream no. 3 with S:
In this dream I am in the ICU tearoom. The time is early afternoon as the sun is streaming through the glass windows on the far side and casting deep shadows onto the ground. I am standing there with a group of colleagues, and S comes in through the door. He stands near the entrance, away from us, looking rather uncomfortable.
He is wearing a long sleeved white shirt with a formal collar. It is so pressed and starched that it looks unreal - the collars are so stiff that they hardly move. Over this shirt he is wearing a patient gown, quite a comical look. Everyone has stopped talking and all eyes are on him. He asks permission to leave the department since he has to go to Strasbourg.
Strasbourg? I wonder in the dream.
He starts to explain why he has to go to Strasbourg to see the castle there, and some other things that I cannot remember. As he speaks, he catches my eye and I realise that no one else knows that we know each other. People ask him random questions that he deflects easily with "I don't know" or something similar. Then someone asks, "will you be in Paris as well?"
My ears prick up at the question, because S actually lives in Paris - so he must be going home from Australia?
He seems somewhat agitated by the question, finally replying "Well, there may be no time to go to Paris. Let's just see how things end in Strasbourg."
That sends a chill down my spine and I wake up.
The one with lobster
In this short but hilarious dream, I am in the supermarket with one of my older ICU colleagues. (I think in real life he has been behind to the scenes due to his age, and hence maybe he came into my dream). I am looking for pork mince to go into dumplings, and he says that all the mince is out, no longer available.
"But you can try this 50:50! I heard it's really good." he says to me enthusiastically.
"What does the 50 mean?" I ask him.
He shrugs and moves further down the aisle. My mind throws up images of random animals - rabbits, horses, rats... what kind of mince is 50:50?
Then I realise everything is packaged in opaque plastic, and it's very hard to see what is inside. I pick up an item and look at the label, it is actually a lobster and costs $247. I can't even comprehend this for a moment, but it is alive and the pincer grabs my hand sharply. I wake up stunned.
The one with the F-G note sequence
In this dream I am making a pot of masala chai. (In real life, I used to drink chai a lot but it has really faded in my life - no longer an interest!) I have 3 teabags in the pot, the way that M makes it. But I have forgotten all the other ingredients. I'm racking my brains to think what else goes into masala chai, but I cannot remember anything other than pepper. M used to grind a couple of grinds of black pepper just before the finish to give it that extra bite. I grind the pepper but my hands don't belong to me - they keep compulsively grinding the pepper, over and over. I cannot stop myself. The tea is totally ruined with the pepper flavour and no other spices (since I cannot recall them). I don't even add milk or sugar, but I pour myself a cup and take it to the table.
The liquid in the cup is so dark it is almost black. The steam from the tea makes my eyes water, so strong it is with pepper flavour. I sit down at the table because I am supposed to be writing my column. I am actually some sort of agony aunt for the newspaper. I open the next envelope, and inside is a handwritten letter.
The top of the letter I cannot recall anymore, but the question is
In this sequence of quavers FGFGFGFG, should it be phrased as
F-GF-GF-GF
or
FG-FG-FG
The answer is clear to me - it must be F-GF-GF, but I ponder it a little longer to see if other thoughts come to mind. None do and I wake up puzzled.
I am not doing anything different during the Covid-19 crisis. In fact, I am doing all the exact same things that I used to do -
go to work
play music
bake bread
read
write
go for walks
enjoy sunshine / nature
catch up with friends
Of course some of those things are now different, like catching up with friends online instead of in real life. But the essence of my life is exactly the same. Except it feels different, because I have a newfound appreciation for my life. I feel grateful to have all these tiny simple things that make up the mosaic of my life, I am far more fortunate than I had ever realised.
The last few weeks have actually been really good - I am physically and mentally well, eating good food and sleeping soundly.
I also started doing "violin school" which is my way of actually getting into the technical side of playing the violin. Even though I've been playing for a decade now, adult amateurs like me with no solid foundation struggle with the technical stuff. I set myself a task to put a 25min timer on and play scales slowly once aday. I am asking myself if I have played the best note I can possibly produce today. I am also doing the Beethoven project to record the Beethoven violin sonatas with my friend in Toronto Emily - we are doing it one movement at a time, an extremely rewarding project. Listening to myself on recording makes me cringe - all the notes that are missed and imperfect, poorly executed or squeaky - but listening to myself has made me arrive at loving my own imperfection. This is the best I can produce at this point in time, not 10 years into the future when I will undoubtedly be better at playing the violin. I accept who I am right now.
-----
Onto the dreams...
Dream no. 3 with S:
In this dream I am in the ICU tearoom. The time is early afternoon as the sun is streaming through the glass windows on the far side and casting deep shadows onto the ground. I am standing there with a group of colleagues, and S comes in through the door. He stands near the entrance, away from us, looking rather uncomfortable.
He is wearing a long sleeved white shirt with a formal collar. It is so pressed and starched that it looks unreal - the collars are so stiff that they hardly move. Over this shirt he is wearing a patient gown, quite a comical look. Everyone has stopped talking and all eyes are on him. He asks permission to leave the department since he has to go to Strasbourg.
Strasbourg? I wonder in the dream.
He starts to explain why he has to go to Strasbourg to see the castle there, and some other things that I cannot remember. As he speaks, he catches my eye and I realise that no one else knows that we know each other. People ask him random questions that he deflects easily with "I don't know" or something similar. Then someone asks, "will you be in Paris as well?"
My ears prick up at the question, because S actually lives in Paris - so he must be going home from Australia?
He seems somewhat agitated by the question, finally replying "Well, there may be no time to go to Paris. Let's just see how things end in Strasbourg."
That sends a chill down my spine and I wake up.
The one with lobster
In this short but hilarious dream, I am in the supermarket with one of my older ICU colleagues. (I think in real life he has been behind to the scenes due to his age, and hence maybe he came into my dream). I am looking for pork mince to go into dumplings, and he says that all the mince is out, no longer available.
"But you can try this 50:50! I heard it's really good." he says to me enthusiastically.
"What does the 50 mean?" I ask him.
He shrugs and moves further down the aisle. My mind throws up images of random animals - rabbits, horses, rats... what kind of mince is 50:50?
Then I realise everything is packaged in opaque plastic, and it's very hard to see what is inside. I pick up an item and look at the label, it is actually a lobster and costs $247. I can't even comprehend this for a moment, but it is alive and the pincer grabs my hand sharply. I wake up stunned.
The one with the F-G note sequence
In this dream I am making a pot of masala chai. (In real life, I used to drink chai a lot but it has really faded in my life - no longer an interest!) I have 3 teabags in the pot, the way that M makes it. But I have forgotten all the other ingredients. I'm racking my brains to think what else goes into masala chai, but I cannot remember anything other than pepper. M used to grind a couple of grinds of black pepper just before the finish to give it that extra bite. I grind the pepper but my hands don't belong to me - they keep compulsively grinding the pepper, over and over. I cannot stop myself. The tea is totally ruined with the pepper flavour and no other spices (since I cannot recall them). I don't even add milk or sugar, but I pour myself a cup and take it to the table.
The liquid in the cup is so dark it is almost black. The steam from the tea makes my eyes water, so strong it is with pepper flavour. I sit down at the table because I am supposed to be writing my column. I am actually some sort of agony aunt for the newspaper. I open the next envelope, and inside is a handwritten letter.
The top of the letter I cannot recall anymore, but the question is
In this sequence of quavers FGFGFGFG, should it be phrased as
F-GF-GF-GF
or
FG-FG-FG
The answer is clear to me - it must be F-GF-GF, but I ponder it a little longer to see if other thoughts come to mind. None do and I wake up puzzled.
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