grey day

Date: 2/10/2020

One of my favorite musicians invited me over. He lived on a massive boat in the middle of the ocean, so it was quite an ordeal to get there. When I eventually arrived at his door, the sea was turbulent and grey—it threw the ship about, nearly sending me flying. One of his guards invited me in and led me down a huge flight of stairs. With each step we descended further into a candle-lit darkness. Upon opening his living room door, I found the singer in quite a state. His hair had grown long, and his face was unshaven. By the look of his eyes, it seemed as if he hadn’t slept in days. Or, perhaps, he had slept for a month straight. It was hard to tell. He was severely depressed, living off of pizza wraps and Arnold Palmers. Apparently, he had sent for me to get my opinion concerning what he should do about himself. I ended up spending the day giving him pep talks and helping him clean/organize his many rooms. He was reluctant at first, but soon (after popping a jazzy record onto a phonograph) he got into the swing of it. By the end of the dream I emerged from the stairwell to a clear night sky.