He card-swipes to open the building door, then leads us down a flight of stairs to the basement. As we head down the hallway, I glance through the little windows in the doors. In one room, a student is banging away at the piano. A little further down, I see a long-haired guy strumming a guitar. And yet another window reveals a girl playing the trumpet. All this music and I can’t hear a note. That’s some serious sound-proofing.
Aaron unlocks a door over halfway down the hall and ushers us all in. A laptop sits on a small table, its screensaver spinning psychedelic swirls. Wires and cords run from the computer to a very expensive-looking keyboard, and behind it stands a battered, old wooden stool. There’s only one other chair in the room, and Avery has claimed it. But there’s enough space to lean against the wall next to Leo.
Aaron starts, “You guys are never going to believe this?—”
“Ha! Try us,” Avery says.
Aaron chuckles nervously. “Okay, well, see, here’s the thing…this weekend, I had the craziest dream that I was DJing at some club, but I was playing music I’ve never heard before. And when I woke up, I couldn’t get it out of my head. So, I was like, okay, I’ll see if I can get it down in MuseScore. And as soon as I started recording it, I heard it again. Perfectly. Like the whole band was there in my head.”
Avery’s eyes grow large. “You dreamed a musical composition?”
“Yeah.” Aaron looks both excited and bewildered.
Leo chimes in, “And that’s never happened to you before?”
“No. I dream about playing music all the time, but it’s always stuff I already know.”
I’m as flummoxed as Aaron is, but then I know nothing about music. Beethoven was pretty unhinged. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’d dreamed his symphonies.
“Is this sort of thing unheard of?” Leo asks.
“No. There are some famous stories of it happening. Supposedly Paul McCartney wrote “Yesterday” in his sleep.”
My brain snaps into analysis mode. “But if those stories are famous, then that means it’s pretty rare.”
Leo adds, “And you said you heard it perfectly while you were awake, too.”
We all go quiet as we consider what this might mean.
Avery breaks the silence. “Well, let’s hear it.”
After giving us a thumbs-up, Aaron twiddles some knobs on the keyboard and hits a few keys on his laptop. Next thing I know, I’m listening to some of the most mesmerizing, multi-layered music I’ve ever heard. Aaron’s playing the keyboard, but the other instruments are all coming out of the speakers. Their melody threads its way into me, tugging on all my most tender places. Barely thinking, I reach for Leo’s hand. Equally captivated, he clasps it and squeezes.
When Aaron lapses into a sort of trance, I realize I’m watching and listening to a genius at work. Amateurs don’t lose all touch with reality like this. I don’t know how long he plays—his compositioncould be five minutes, it could be twenty—but when he finishes, we all simply stare at him in awe.
“Holy shit, A,” Avery breathes. “You seriously dreamed that?”
He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. I think he might’ve gotten a little misty. “Yeah,” he gulps out as he pushes the frames back up his nose.
“That was incredible,” I say. Maybe all his music is that spectacular, but judging from Avery’s expression, this composition is exceptional.
Leo strokes his chin as he thinks. “And it sounded exactly like that in your dream?”
“Yep. And when I was recalling it to write it down.”
“What do you usually do when you’re composing?” I ask.
Aaron drops back onto the stool. “Well, for starters, I’m usually awake. But, yeah, usually I fiddle with my equipment, try things out, write a measure or two at a time.” Suddenly, his shoulders slump and his eyes grow wide and sad. “I guess it could’ve been someone else’s composition I was hearing.”
Avery screws up her face. “In yoursleep?”
Leo asks him, “Have you ever ‘heard’ anyone in your sleep before?”
“No.” Aaron’s back straightens and a hopeful smile plays on his lips. “Never.”
I listen, not fully understanding the conversation. There have been plenty of times that I’ve been asleep, and the sounds and voices around me made it into my dreams. But that must not be what they’re talking about. My best guess? Aaron’s piece of music came from somewhere deep in his subconscious.
Avery hops up. “It’s cramped in here. Let’s go to the Bobcat and talk.”
