Through the circle-shaped hole in the floor I can see the old exhausted man as he tries to soothe the child he has taken with him. Why has he forced this child to come with him to this basement? I have no idea. The man is agressive, but even though he tries to throw dull spears in my face he doesn’t feel threatening to me. I simply want to help him. Soon he runs out of things to attack me with and I crawl down through the hole. I have no kind of weapon except my words and my bare hands. To my surprise he sits by a grand piano, playing some jazz song I’ve never heard before. I slowly lean over the cover, carefully but still very self-confident. I trust him. Then I let my fingers run over the keys, improvising a melody that fits perfectly into the song. After a while I suggest that we should have a conversation instead of a fight. He agrees.
This was from a dream I had July 21.