Dreaming in techni-colour

It finally happened. During an afternoon nap not long ago I dreamt about knitting. It wasn’t just any knitting, and it wasn’t any project I’ve recently completed or on which I’m now working. No, I dreamt that I was doing stranded colour work, knitting a fair isle sweater with a complicated design à la Alice Starmore. I have no idea why as I really have no desire to make anything like that; unless, of course, my subconscious is trying to tell me something. I also dreamed recently that I had grown a full moustache and tuft of beard on my chin which, when combed and oiled, formed a beautiful van dyke and the kind of moustache that curls at the ends. This I can perhaps attribute to my lifelong desire to have facial hair that I could twirl à la Snidely Whiplash. But stranded colour work? I am not ready yet to remount that horse.

Yesterday afternoon I performed with my early music ensemble in a stone church built sometime in the early 1800’s. It was hot outside and in order to prevent traffic noises from disturbing our concert or the ceiling fans from playing with the acoustics, we played to a small, but appreciative, audience in sauna-like conditions. Apart from the crumhorns refusing to tune and play together nicely, it was actually a very good recital. But because of the heat, when I was not playing or singing, i.e. during solos performed by others of the group, my eyes closed and I sank into a bit of a torpor. I dreamt about knitting.