On November 10, I had an email conversation with someone I’d contacted because of his involvement in the arts in New York City. I was asking for a recommendation on where to hear a performance of a particular musical work. In the course of the conversation, I was surprised to learn that he had worked in radio news earlier in his life; so had I. We both commented that we miss those days.
When I was in college, I had also worked on the programming side of radio. One of my favorite projects was a weekly show I initiated, combining the music and folklore of different cultures. (I like to claim I invented world beat.) I knew almost nothing about either, so it was a big adventure each week to go to the university’s excellent music-school library and rummage through the record bins.
The narrative of the dream I woke with on the morning of November 11, “Table Set in a Tiny Room,” had no reference to any of that. Continue reading
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