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Dream of: 04 October 1980 (2) "Unplugged Guitar"

I was in a school library with some other students including Mark Tindall (a high school friend). We were all doing reports on a patriotic song similar to the "Star Spangled Banner." Since the song seemed to be in Irish and was filled with many strange words, I searched for some of the words in an encyclopedia. When I had asked Tindall what the object of all our work was, he had told me that each of us had to give a little talk on the song. I thought when I gave my talk about the song, I would first play the song on my flute, and I began imagining how I would play the song, how I would climb the scales all the way to the third C. In in my imagination, the third C was squeaky, and I feared my flute-playing would sound terrible in front of other people. I thought perhaps I would simply give a talk instead of playing the flute; I would talk about what the words in the song actually meant.

After leaving the school, I found myself walking south on Offnere Street in Portsmouth. I had my flute with me and played it as I walked. Eubanks (a Portsmouth guitarist with whom I was acquainted in my college years) passed by riding a bicycle going north on Offnere. He turned around and came back to where I was. While I continued playing, Eubanks began playing an electric guitar he had. The guitar wasn't plugged in, but I could still barely hear the sound and I continued accompanying him.

I told Eubanks I was thinking about going to Europe and playing music. Actually, I was thinking more in terms of writing lyrics and having someone else write the music.

When some tough-looking fellows pulled up and one pulled out a gun and pointed it at me, I fell backwards ontp the ground. I thought the fellow was going to take my flute, but he just pointed the gun at me and then walked away. I stopped playing the flute for a while.

When my old friend Steve Buckner pulled up in a car, I began playing the flute again until some more tough-looking fellows showed up. After Buckner and I talked for a little while, I told him to go and call the police. He said OK. I put my flute in his car and he drove off.

Some other fellows who knew me showed up. Apparently I had once gone to school with them. One was Craft (a former junior high classmate) although he didn't really seem like Craft. The fellows wrestled with each other and one jokingly acted as if he were going to hit me. I wrestled with them a little bit, all in fun. I asked Craft how he was and he said he was married. He pointed out two children on the street and said they were his. One was a little boy with long frizzy black hair like a Negro's, except the hair had white splotches in it. It almost looked like a porcupine's. I walked up and began examining the hair because I thought it was curious. Around the white spots, the hair was brown and then it was all black. I liked the hair and I told the boy I thought his hair was quite extraordinary. I wondered if the spots were natural or if someone had put peroxide on it.

We were standing at the corner of Fourth and Offnere Streets. When I spoke to another fellow standing there and asked him where he lived, he pointed toward Fourth Street, but said he lived on Seventh Street.

Craft and I walked into a large green house. We both took off all our clothes, got into bed together, and put our arms around each other, but we didn't engage in any sexual activity. We just sat there nude in the bed. One of us said we hoped nobody would walk in because the person would surely get the wrong idea about what was going on. Someone might think we were engaging in sex. He mentioned something about our moving in together. I said he would then have to share his wife with me and I asked him what she looked like. He said she was Catholic. When I asked him if he were Catholic, he responded that he was. I said, "Well then your whole family is Catholic."

When someone came to the door, I went to answer it. The person at the door said someone out front wanted to see me. I walked outside and saw a white police car. I had been expecting a blue one instead of a white one. The policeman seemed to be a sergeant. Several other policemen were also milling about. After motioning one police officer over to the side, I said someone had pulled a gun on me earlier. I said that it was too late now and that that person was no longer there. I had sent Buckner to call the police over and hour ago.

I looked up Offnere Street and saw a large church on the corner of Fifth and Offnere. I walked up to the church and looked inside. Several fellows were sitting in front of the church, but the fellow who had pulled the gun on me had already left and was nowhere to be found.

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