Dream of:03 May 2012 "An Old Lock"
No matter how pretty, a musical instrument without sound is like a lock without key.
As soon as I walked through the front door and into the front hallway of the large old Victorian house where my father was living, I could see stacks of 30-40 cardboard boxes in the hallway and in the adjacent living room. The boxes were filled with all kinds of knick knacks. I knew my father sometimes bought stuff like this from people trying to sell it. Obviously he had done so again. I quickly pulled something which intrigued me out of a box in the hallway: the old metal lock body of a door lock. The metal surface of the flat rectangular lock body had ornate designs on both sides, not simply flat like most lock bodies I had seen. I definitely liked the heavy piece and I figured my father would let me keep it. In fact, I thought I would probably be able to keep anything I wanted from the boxes.
But when I walked into the living room and started going through the boxes, I didn't see anything else which interested me. I pulled stuff out of some boxes and stacked the stuff in a pile, but nothing caught my attention. I saw some black dominoes, but I had no interest in those. So far the search wasn't producing much.
I looked out the front window and could see my father and another man standing by the open trunk of a car parked on the street which ran in front of the house. I quickly surmised that the other man was the one who had sold all these boxes to my father, and I also saw that the trunk appeared to be full of more items which my father was purchasing.
I could see a silver musical instrument lying in its open case in the trunk. It also had elaborate designs engraved on its side. It immediately interested me. I thought the instrument might be a trumpet, although it actually looked more like a saxophone. I liked it. I immediately deduced that the good stuff was still outside in the trunk and I made my way toward the front door so I could go outside and investigate further.
Copyright 2012 by email@example.com