Tuesday, April 26, 2016


While I was in high school, I was a member of the marching band. Part of why I went into it was to get away from the need for a specific physical education class; marching, it was felt by the district, counted as enough activity to fill the curricular hole. But while I was in it, I had a reasonably decent time; I had friends through it, and the few dates I had, I had through it. Too, my experiences in it spurred me in large part to major in music when I went to college--although that turned out to be a mistake, in the event. Still, it was a decent enough thing to do through high school, and I would have probably done it in college had it been available to me at that point (the university where I did my undergraduate work did not have a marching band when I attended it, although it does now). But it has been long, indeed, since I was in one, and I was never at the front of it; I was never a conductor, director, or drum major. So it is strange that I dreamt of leading one last night.

I do not often recall my dreams, as I have noted in this webspace, so when I do remember one, it stands out, begging for some kind of interpretation--and that demands detail. I was directing a smallish band, perhaps some forty or fifty pieces, with three drum majors assisting; I recall rearranging the band's standard marching block to help support the weaker performers and mask their appearance, putting the assistant drum majors on the back corners of the formation as guides for the marchers at the rear of the group. The idea was that they would help to keep those at the back in step and in time, so that the band would look more unified as it passed on--the recency effect being in place. Banner-bearers were the next I was going to address, but I woke before I could do so, and I did not return to the dream. The uniforms were fairly standard; dark pseudo-military getups for the players, light equivalents for the drum majors--but the specific colors escape me at present.

More details do not present themselves to me at this point; the memory fades as I write. The major points, though, perhaps merit some attention, although I do not have the distance from the event I need to be able to offer any real commentary. I know that some who read what I write in this webspace might have things to say, however, and I would be interested in hearing those interpretations. I recall being taught that all presentations are texts, and I have given something in words; how could I ask for better than to have what I have written plumbed for meaning beyond the surface-level exposition of what was going on and what the words mean denotatively? And I should not subject others' works to my investigation if I am not willing to have what I write similarly investigated; I should not ask others to do what I am unwilling to do, myself, including standing for critique.

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