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28 June 2006 / April

Oboe nightmare

I dreamt last night that I was in band. Oh no!

It was high school band, make no mistake– there were people from both Boynton and DeWitt, even ones who don’t play an instrument– but located in the DeWitt’s good ol’ MU-B, site of such fond memories as the time I spilled water on Scott and dropped someone’s flute, all at the same time.

Anyway, in the dream I was a little worried, because I hadn’t practiced oboe all summer and couldn’t really remember the fingerings and golly gee, why on earth am I even here? Then I remembered, a little belatedly, that I had to wet my reed, and since it was a horrid double-reed I had to soak it in water, not just my own wonderful amylase-filled saliva as do the happy clarinetists.

I handed my oboe to my good pal JP and hurried to my backpack to get my reed, which of course wasn’t in my oboe case where it belonged. But I didn’t have my film can with me, the one that I always soak my reed in, because I hadn’t really been expecting to come to band in the first place, obviously, since I quit oboe.

Oh no!

I stuck the reed in my mouth, which was (of course) conveniently dry, and hoped for the best. Just then, Mr. Calhoun walked in.

Oh no!

As can be expected, we were being too loud. As can also be expected, Mr. Calhoun yelled at us, berating us for not respecting the teacher and being quiet by 10:30, when we were supposed to begin rehearsing.

Linda went up to the whiteboard and wrote in green dry erase marker, “Be quiet by 10:00 AM!”

Wait, no, I thought to myself, you mean 10:30! Linda, you mean 10:30! Oh no!!!

Well. I am currently waiting for photos to upload. And it’s taking so long that a new species of chicken may evolve before it’s done. I could use this time to go play some lovely Schumann, or enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, or I could just not.

It seems like an appropriate sort of time to write a Spontaneous Story. Once upon a time there was a little pink fish, who swam back and forth between the two largest islands of her tropical archipelago home until the fateful day when–

No. Don’t feel like writing either. I feel like… I feel like… aah! I don’t know! I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know! Aaah!!! -psssshhchwewewwhw-

That was the sound of my head exploding.



Leave a Comment
  1. kariariaaaaa / Jun 28 2006 8:08 pm

    …would you like a bandaid?

    Or perhaps a hint of minty freshness?

  2. April / Jun 28 2006 10:02 pm

    Aah, thank you -dabs hint of minty freshness on remnants of head and slaps bandaid over it-

    Much better.

  3. JP / Jun 29 2006 12:19 pm

    Quite a funny dream. Good ole times with Mr. Calhoun. Of course, I dreamt that Mr. C (the English one) dragged me to a party after giving me a 10 page quiz that I didn’t finish, where I discovered that he hates fairies (the tinkerbell ones). Glad your head is better by the way.


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