Unentitled

Dreaming I am in a music room of a school. I am sitting with a group of people singing a song that is very familiar to me, less so to them. I take the manuscript to the piano and begin to play, but it doesn’t come as easily as it used to. I try for a few minutes and then stop. I am feeling overwhelmed by a cellist and a violinist on my left. I go into the corridor; it is lunchtime. Rosie is in the corridor holding a lit piece of rolled-up paper. She…