Last night I had an elaborate dream about my deceased friend Karel – somehow he and I had managed to obtain some sort of subsidized space in a large, castle-like building. His family was there, or at any rate my dream version of it. The majority of the tenants were from Eastern Europe and my job was to coordinate space allocation. I’m pretty sure the building was based on my experience of musicians’ practice spaces, warrens of subdivided rooms in unused industrial buildings and basements.

This building was like an armory or something and had a large greensward which was unfortunately pretty nasty – image a lawn that has been turned into an unkempt swamp and you will get the idea. The marshy area was strewn with black, abandoned shipping crates and amplifier cases, the detritus that accumulates in practice-hall corridors.

The dream was sufficiently convincing that I just took Karel’s presence at face value, only recognizing it as a gift of overtime minutes in the moments after awakening.

There was a large dog, not friendly, possibly an irish wolfhound, probably drawn from watching the Thin Man marathon on TMC over New Year’s.

The heart of the dream, however, was the necessity of billeting a large group of ethnic Russians in the building. The Eastern Europeans already settled in their spaces were dead set against welcoming Russians into the building, but they didn’t have any say in the matter as the building was some sort of transitional shelter for recent arrivals to the locale. People became angry at me because I pointed out that the Russians could not be excluded on the basis of nationality.

Karel tried to mediate, unsuccessfully, and it was about this time that I began to gain an awareness that this was some sort of dream.

It was nice to see and spend time with him again. I miss him. He was a nebbish and a sad sack, but he had a kind heart.