I rarely go there now -- they're under new management -- but last night I dreamed I was there, or somewhere like it, and was drawn to a dress displayed on a mannequin.
The dress was actually ugly -- as I realized once I took it to the counter and started to purchase it. But behind the mannequin there was a book on display, open to a page on which was written "Ave Verum Corpus." And all of a sudden I could hear it being sung by the men's choir my father used to sing in, the whole thing, right to the end, with those gorgeous deep bass notes that bring it to its final close.
It is, I suppose, the curse of a classical education (not to mention singing in a church choir for years on end) that the memory of a song not heard or sung for years can return in such exquisite detail in a dream. But I find myself this morning feeling incredibly grateful, as if I've actually heard my father's voice again, the way it used to sound, before we had our falling out; back when I still believed his voice was the sound of love.
(Just in case you've never heard it, you can watch it on youtube here.)
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