My latest dream, with hints from The Fifth Element and Lord of the Rings:

It all began at a thrift store. I caught a glimpse of a magnificent pottery piece. It was a pitcher, but not just any pitcher. It was glazed with the look of mother of pearl, and its curves made it seem in motion when it was at rest. It captivated me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I made my way to where it sat on the shelf and picked it up. It felt magical, almost as if it had a secret to share.

I shopped around a little more, but kept looking back to make sure it was still in my cart. I felt almost like I was guarding “The Precious.” This feeling was made even stronger at the checkout when the cashier didn’t want to let it go after ringing it up. I quickly grabbed it out of her hand, paid, and left.

When I got home, I filled it up with water to see if it would actually hold it. It did, but the very surface of the water seemed to dance all on its own. Something just needed to be set free, but I still had no idea what was so special about it.

After a while of pondering, I tipped it to the side to pour off the water. I suddenly heard the ambient sound from a few minutes ago replayed. I looked around trying to find the source of the recording. Being a geek, I knew somebody somewhere must be playing a joke on me. But, as it turned out, as it was emptied, the water pitcher was replaying exactly the sounds present when it was filled. I stared in total shock as I refilled and emptied the pitcher many times. My yells, my whispers, my secrets. All came rushing back. I began to realize it was not just replaying sounds, but also emotions. Hearing these replays didn’t feel anything like an audio recording, but exactly how I felt the moment those sounds were first uttered.

Fast forward through years of finely tuning the art of this pitcher. Starting as a party conversation piece, and evolving to an artful masterpiece, I began to gain notoriety. There was something intangible to replaying the emotions along with the sounds that musicians and artists couldn’t duplicate. And finally, I end up travelling the universe on tour with The Diva, in her first-ever duet.

There I stood, shoulder to shoulder with The Diva. I could hardly believe the circumstances that led me here beside such a beautiful creature without comparison. The stage was complete with plumbing, matched eloquently to The Diva’s style. Looking out at the audience before she began to sing, I could see every creature imaginable. Well beyond the diversity of the crowd shown at the concert on the movie, these concerts were bringing unity to a universe previously at war with one another.

The Diva began to sing. As she did, I slowly filled the pitcher with water. We had practiced meticulously to ensure the perfect speed of filling the pitcher. Too fast, and I would run out of room before she completed the first part of the performance. Too slowly, and I would have difficulty pouring it back out just as slowly. In the same way a musician enters a near trance where their body seems led by an external force rather than by internal consciousness, I fill the pitcher perfectly as the unfathomable singing goes on beside me. Once The Diva has completed the melody, I begin pouring it out onto the stage to recreate it. The mood of the audience multiplies on what it was the first time as The Diva sings harmony along with her original melody. I’m absolutely sure I have never encountered anything so demanding of awe, from any sensory experience. As she and I complete the final notes, the audience is on their feet, in tears and applause. The Diva and I share a glance filled with tears, for this performance is bigger even than the two of us. We lock hands, take a bow, and the curtain drops.

That’s where I woke up. Never have I wanted more to fall back asleep into my dream.