Three summers ago, I was experiencing recurring dreams. There were two of them actually; one of which I still experience regularly. But the other one hasn't interrupted my slumbers since that summer.
In the dream, I played a purple acoustic guitar. That's pretty much the summary of the dream. I never pulled anything out of it except the fact that I was playing an acoustic guitar and it was purple. End of dream. The part that bothered me was the fact that the dream continued to visit me. What did it mean? I didn't know and didn't bother to make any attempts at deep interpretation.
But then one day, we were up in Medford visiting my parents and happened to drive by a Guitar Center. I mentioned my dream to Kenny and he quickly offered to pull into the parking lot. Next thing you know, we are inside and I am explaining my dream to a sales rep. I wondered out loud if my creativity need was not being satisfied and that this was my subconscious begging me to do something about it. He gladly scoured the stock room and resurfaced with none other than a beautiful Ibanez purple acoustic guitar. He noted the slim neck for my small hands and pretty much worked every angle that he knew how to in hopes of a sale.
About 2 hours later we left the store, not with a guitar mind you, but with an electronic drum set which is an instrument that I already know how to play. I figured that my creativity cravings would be satisfied by banging on that a little each day. Still, weeks later I couldn't shake the remembrance of that guitar. So with a coy grin, I confessed my obsession to Kenny. About a week later, I was strumming out my first chords.
In character with my ADD/OCD personality, the guitar only captured my attention for a few months. A pregnancy and everything that follows took priority and I began storing it in the closet; out of sight-out of mind. Not even my "actually-played-Purple-Rain-with-Prince's-own-hands" pick motivated me to strum out a song.
Well, I finally pulled it back out about 2 weeks ago and started practicing again. My fingertips are numb and beginning to callous and I beat myself up with my desire for excellence. But I'm stubborn and persistent and really do want to learn how to play. So, last night I played for about an hour and even though the songs were not anywhere near perfectly timed, it was very therapeutic. My fans think I'm better than what I actually am. The dogs tilt their heads to the side and stare at me in wonderment and my boys dance around in mosh pit style. I'm a far cry from Hendrix, but to my boys I'm the coolest mom on the block. And, I guess that's reason enough to continue strumming along.
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