The Fourth Factor

I’m in an unfamiliar house with my mother, showing her some pieces of music I’ve written using a playback program on a computer. As the dream goes on, the physical setting apparently vanishes in favor of the scores scrolling before my eyes. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember any of the music except for the clarinet part in one. The clarinet is holding a single note, and as several measures go by without it stopping, I make a mental note to modify the part as soon as we’re done listening. The computer may be able to play it back as written, but a clarinettist does actually have to take a breath at some point.

-27.4.22