An account

I am at my mother's beach condo in Boca Raton, Florida. I just bought a new classical guitar and I am very excited about playing it. It is in a plush, hardwood case and it gives off a wonderful smell. But for some reason, I am playing my old, crappy guitar. I cannot stop playing it. I want to play the new one, but all I can do is look at it, smell it. I am playing The Animals' "House of the Rising Sun" on my old guitar, over and over again. I say the chords out loud as I finger them: "A minor", "F major", "C major" etc. Someone is in the room with me as I play the song, and me saying the chords aloud lends itself to me giving this person a lesson. I suddenly will myself to remember I have a NEW GUITAR; why the hell am I still playing my old guitar? I am finally able to put it down and open the case for the new guitar. I look at it, smell it and reminisce all the old, wonderful memories of me playing it. I see all the dings and blemishes and scratches in the wood and remember how I got them. It suddenly dawns on me I am looking again at my old guitar; I do not have a new guitar. It is my old guitar and I realize I love it. It smells great and even looks great with its dark walnut stock and craftsmanship -- even with all the dings and scratches. Dreamt 12/20/2016