“…strange furniture that might have been designed in dreams.”
I am reading The Old Curiosity Shop and the above phrase comes from the first chapter. It stuck in my head, perhaps because there has been strange furniture in my dreams.
I dreamed I was in a church. The organ was part of the floor, a circular mound, black curves on one side, white on the other. It played as the congregation bounced across it. I did not pause to inspect the material, but it seemed to be buoyant and springy. I was intent on the rite being performed, although I have no idea what it was.
I don’t always love organ music. Sometimes it is too much, too loud. It gets in the way of the listening part of church, and for the most part listening has been pushed to the edges by the liturgies anyway. This is why I like to go early, when the pews are empty and the voices are silent.
The idea of a bouncing organ, however, feels welcoming, feels like joy. “Bouncing into Graceland…” to quote another wise saint of a sort about redemption in unlikely ways and places.
The kids have been talking about gothic architecture and the play of light and the irony of black-clad goth children moping low and slow through the world. I will add the Goths, Visigoths, and Vandals, who could at least summon the energy to sack and pillage.
Sometimes church is not what I expect. Sometimes it should be unexpected, leaping along, healed. Unless that was just a dream.