dream

Last night I had a dream that I was back at the MacDowell Colony, where I spent time the first two summers after I'd moved to New York. My studio was at the ocean (an impossibility; MacDowell is in land-locked New Hampshire). I stayed there and worked. I was not writing music though. In my dream the nature of my work was vague and seemed to consist mostly of looking out at the dark water and fending off the occasional interloper. After several weeks I realized that I had not shown up for any meals (breakfast and dinner are served in the Colony Hall, and one need show up there to eat. Lunch is delivered to your studio). My studio was so far from the rest that lunch was not delivered. I did not eat in my dream. Finally it dawned on me that I needed to go to see if I had any mail. When I showed up, numerous artists greeted me. There was a note in my box from Rufus (Rufus Wainwright, whom I don't know) with a copy of his new book (but he is not a writer). There was also a cat waiting for me. In the dream I felt glad when I was greeted warmly, although people were perplexed as to why I had been missing for so long.