park guitar

The only scene I retained from last night is one where I was with a number of, I guess, classmates at the edge of a park area on a sunny, dewy mid-early morning; there was a building just to our south and a low wall on the west edge of the north-south concrete walkway we were standing around on, and large generous trees were interspersed in the lawn to the east. The lawn continued out a ways and was bounded by trees in the distance. I was trying to fix an electric guitar, attempting to reinsert bundled live wires, maybe from the pickups? back into the guitar’s bridge, and at the same time I and a few friends were talking with maybe an older middle-aged guy about concerts we’d just seen in East Asia — this referred to an earlier dream scene that I couldn’t recall after waking up, but which I know was not consciously set in East Asia while it was happening.

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