Hamm Lynn, Street Piper

They may have been the same two couples who appeared in a dream I'd have a few years later. More of a single scene than a dream with any plot to it. The street was the same, and so was the overcast, underpopulated day, a practice day. The difference is that they were elderly.

On the evening before I had this dream, I was the projectionist at the Screening Room, an ideal "day-job" for a busker since all the hours are at night. The SR is one of those small art cinemas--just one screen and 99 seats--where the projectionist is likely to be the ticket-taker before the show and the janitor after the credits roll.

On this busy Friday night, I made change for no less than three $100 bills and one $50. Since we had prepared for a busy night--an Australian film called Rabbit Proof Fence that was quite successful with the SR audience--making change was no trouble, but the unusualness must have impressed itself upon me. We go weeks at a time without ever seeing a Franklin or a Grant, and this was the first time I ever took more than one in a single night.

In the dream, I'm finishing the same Bach piece with the same flourish and the same man--except that he's 40 or 50 years older--stops in the same spot, makes the same reach, and hands me a rolled up bill. But instead of the "Boss" remark, he says, "Take this, please! I can't bend down to your basket."

"Thank you," not even thinking of a joke at such a sincere effort, but then I look at what I'm taking and notice the double zeros after the one in the corner of the bill. Raised a Catholic, I immediately hear the angel in my right ear, "Tell him! Tell him!" and the devil in my left, "Keep your mouth shut! Pocket it!"

To so much noise, I awake.

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