I dreamed I was in the elevator of an old apartment building I used to live in. There was a girl there wearing colorful clothes who immediately started talking to me. She had gone to high school in the city I grew up in (though not my high school), and she had some criticisms of it. She was a musician carrying a violin. I was fascinated by it, as I used to play one myself. But her violin was homemade, something she had crafted herself in a rustic fashion out of found wood. I picked up the bow. The back of it was thick, twisted wood, and in place of horsehair was something I could not exactly identify. I wondered what kind of sound it would make when dragged across the strings, and how the balance of it might feel in my hand.
While I was examining the bow, the girl had gotten off the elevator. I hadn’t even noticed what floor she lived on. I thought, perhaps I should go door to door until I find her.
I still have her bow.