Night of March 11th, 2014. Tuesday.
This dream is of a fairly common type I used to have when younger (although mostly involving electric guitars), probably centering more on the mid 1980s. It all takes place in sister Marilyn's house, mostly the living room, and my brother-in-law and mother are the only familiar characters.
There are two unknown males from a local music store, in rather drab-looking plaid long coats, who give me an acoustic guitar to try out, I believe as a trial run or possibly a week-long appraisal. (They remind me vaguely of two of brother Dennis's unsavory friends from years ago.) The acoustic guitar looks really nice at first - and is supposedly the top of the line as well as very expensive - but unusual things happen to it automatically, over time.
Upon close examination, it seems the guitar actually has nine strings rather than six, but I do not think it relevant to how a twelve-string is setup and used. The e string, (the highest-pitched string) over time, seems way too loose, yet still provides the correct pitch when pulled on and let go (as it is so loose that it cannot be plucked normally). The string actually comes way out almost like a light rubber band, and I also notice it seems to be connected to the wrong tuning peg - which is a wooden cylinder like the other seven (four on each side and possibly one upright in the middle). However, I am not sure of the nature of the guitar to be certain about anything. The "middle string" (of nine) seems to not reach fully down and is actually tied to another string before it reaches the body or sound hole. As it does not even go to the bridge, I am not sure what the purpose of the weird setup is. It is possible, though, that there are two middle strings (for the implied fifth string position), one reaching the bridge as the others, and the smaller and shorter one tied over the top of it about the seventh fret down.
I try to play something but it does not sound right at all (not sure how I am making a chord with five fingers over nine strings anyway). I notice odd holes in each side near where the neck and body meet as if eaten away by worms. I am not sure what to do, as, if the guitar is on consignment, I do not want to damage it in any way if I decide to give it back needfully "like new". Eventually, I notice more cracks and holes which are near where the sound hole is and lower down on the neck. The guitar soon starts to come apart in four separate pieces; the cracked body, two sections of the cracked neck, and an additional smaller triangular piece from off the bottom of the cracked neck. It is almost like some sort of fragile wood/Styrofoam mix. I am not sure what to do but I just put the whole mess down near the living room table.
My brother-in-law Bob cheerfully starts talking about different things, including fictional misadventures regarding me. He talks about how a lot of modern music is the same sound as passing wind at a busy train station, implying an undesirable assault on the senses. I walk to the back of the house to look out the window and at that point seem much younger. My mother is there and seemingly healthy.
When I go back to the living room, I notice my father's old guitar in the soft chair near the telephone table - it is still in good condition. I think about taking the strings from the "junk" guitar and putting the good ones on my father's guitar but do not get to before my dream fades.
In the long run, I guess my dream was only expressing my frustrating experiences and understanding of modern products, which often are not designed correctly (or have wrong parts integrated - such as our last washing machine) and which often decay or break a very short time after purchase, including important plumbing and sink parts (we even lived at a place where the large thin plastic bathtub had cracked down the middle of the bottom and had been glued back together). As I wake, I see a fair number of broken plastic hubcaps in various areas of the street, that had fallen off various random cars, as in real life. In real life, we have been through countless "fake" products, including an electric snow-cone maker (that was a gift) that only lasted one use. Product quality, along with mainstream media and authority's credibility, could not get much worse, and I wonder how people will react in the future, if at all.
