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Holly's Dream of 21 Jan 2000

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Holly Deyo
January 21, 2000

A group of extremely good amateur musicians could not play a song right. Stan and I were among the players who were dressed in traditional black skirts or slacks with white shirts. We had been working very hard to play this piece for an unspecified special event. People's shirt sleeves were rolled up and unbuttoned casually at the neck. Everyone was tired and disappointed about not playing to the conductor's satisfaction. He walked off in disgust and we remained in our seats.

One, lone musician began playing and little by little, the others joined in. We got it perfect that time, without the conductor, and the piece was fabulous! Elation abounded!

The room in which we were playing had a bank of windows on the right much like at an airport. The musicians were seated on a multi-tiered platform at one end with an open space immediately in front and people were milling around. Midway set in this rectangular room were five or six folding work tables placed end-to-end across the room. The tables were filled with stacks of paper where another group of people had been feverishly working on some project. I had the impression they were scientists or another very task-oriented group.

After completing the music faultlessly, everyone in the room cheered at the group effort. It was so spectacular people picked up white roses lying scattered on the tables all around the perimeter. The roses themselves were perfectly pristine white buds on long stems. Everyone in the room, musicians and workers, wanted to lay the roses on the playing field outside. When we had our roses in hand, we all went to look out the plate glass windows, down past a massive row of empty bleachers and out onto an empty playing field.

I couldn't tell what event or sport would be played as the green rectangle in this massive stadium was without markings or goal posts. Looking to the other side of the playing field was the largest collection of people I have ever seen at a gathering, something like the masses at the Rio millennial celebration, literally millions. Many were seated on the ground, some were standing, but all were peaceful and dressed in pastels. The predominant colors were white and mint green. Everyone was waiting and the crowd didn't have need of cops patrolling it; there were none, just peacefully waiting.

Back in our room, standing at the window and holding our roses, someone began singing "The Star Spangled Banner" a cappella. Stan was standing right behind me. On the left was a woman not too sure of the words. On the right was a very tall thin man dressed in a brown ribbed turtleneck sweater singing confidently. He was not a handsome man and had a somewhat scarred or pockmarked complexion, but he had extraordinarily kind, brown eyes. He turned, slightly surprised that I knew the words and smiled in kinship.

Not everyone remembered the words and some dropped out singing toward the end of the song. Not many completed it, but the feeling of elation and joy remained regardless. Toward the very end of the song where the melody rises to high notes for, 'land of the free' I thought to myself, "I'll never hit those notes but squeaked it out anyway, determined to finish. It sounded pretty awful but I grinned widely, sang and finished with a feeling of euphoria. Some of us were weeping with emotion.

At one point, I had sat on the floor and was now wearing a raincoat. After singing, wishing to rise and not trip over the raincoat, I held out my hand to the man on my right hoping he'd help me up. Since this is a little uncommon to do to a stranger, I jokingly said to ease the moment, "it's a lot longer to the floor these days." He grinned and offered his hand graciously and helped me up. Stan and I turned to leave. We were all going to lay our roses on the playing field.