Last Night’s Dream: I’m in a Super Walmart and I hear a keyboard playing.

Last Night’s Dream:
I’m in a Super Walmart and I hear a keyboard playing.
 
I follow the playing, going up and down the aisles until I find it.
 
A little black girl is sitting behind this amazing keyboard and playing her own musical creation quite well.
 
The keyboard had three parts. Middle was a standard piano, a split left section that looked like 1/4 of a computer keyboard and a right split section was sound pads you can hit like finger drums and assign sounds to.
 
Various parts lit up in different bright colors or sent out little colored lightening bolts from the fingers when played.
 
Behind her was a chair, just to the right, facing down the aisle, about five feet to the right and back of her.
 
I sat down and listened to her play, not watching just listening.
 
I occasionally glanced over for a few seconds. I noticed by her eye movements that she was completely blind, although you wouldn’t know it at a quick glance as it was subtle.
 
I listened to her play, glancing over to watch how she used the keyboard as I wanted to try playing it when she was done.
 
After about four minutes of listening, as I mostly watching the random people walking down the far end of the aisle, she finished her improvisational piece.
 
She turns vaguely towards my general direction says calmly and confidently:
 
“How many are you?
How long were you sitting there?”
 
I said, “One and about four minutes”.
 
She seemed satisfied with my answer, turning back towards the keyboard, feeling around for different settings and testing out what they do.
 
“What do you think about the keyboard?”, I asked.
 
She kept working with the buttons, while giving a straightforward opinion about what’s good and back about it, surprising and typical features.
 
I continued facing down the aisle occasionally looking over as she talked about features and I responded with the usually, “Sounds good”, “ok”, “That’s interesting” responses
 
“Thank you for listening”, she said when she finished.
 
“You’re welcome. I learned a lot and also you’re good at playing.”
 
“Thank you”, and she turned around and grabbed my pant leg at the knee as an acknowledgement.
 
Just then, her mother turns around the aisle.
 
“You done playing? Don’t bother that man and let him play.”
 
Her mom clicks a Snapple cap a few times, the girl gets up and walks towards her mother and they disappear down the cross aisle.
 
I go over to the keyboard and start looking and feeling around for different settings and testing out what they do. Then I start playing something. Lights are coming out from around my fingers and the keyboard would probably sound great if it was hooked up to a sound system, but the cheap speakers built into it were good enough for now, if a bit hollow.
 
After a few minutes of playing, mother and daughter come up to me. I stop playing.
 
The mom says, “Wow, that was amazing! How much would you charge to teach her?”
 
As she talked to me, I occasionally quickly glanced over at the girl and while her eyes and head movements didn’t indicate her feeling at that moment, her facial positions did.
 
The words, “Apprehensive and forced” came up in my head.
 
I reply to the mom, “I don’t really teach. I think it’s important to notice and gently encourage progress with occasional challenges but I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing a strict program and I’m not sure if she wants someone that will…”
 
…and suddenly there was a loud electrical crackling coming from all around us.
 
It was deep and boomy and had that rotating quality which added to the disorientation.
 
I got up and we all ended up in a central aisle as the horrifying sound continued.
 
“BOOM!” CRASH. Pop-sHatter.
 
The smell of electricity hung in the air as wisps of smoke dissipated around a thing on the ground.
 
The girl walked over to it and we could all see shattered glass sticking up everywhere and her mom and others started yelling at her.
 
She reached down at the biggest piece of glass, which was bigger than her face and half her body, tearing it up out of the wreckage, glass and parts spilling away, capacitors still discharging in electric zaps around her.
 
“Everybody? TV fell from the ceiling”.
 
She drops the glass, which shatters and walks back towards her mom.
 
I woke up.

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