Dream journal

I was hiking through the woods with a woman about my own age -- not recognizable post-dream as anybody in particular, but with a "potential girlfriend" emotional overlay -- and reached a large stream that we needed to cross on stepping stones. She was dubious. I started across, picking the left-hand route rather than the right-hand, and getting one foot soaked when one of my chosen stones moved under my foot, but there were no major mishaps. And in the second or two as I recovered from the moving-stone incident, I saw a glint of metal under the water, reached down and pulled up a flugelhorn. A decidedly odd thing to find in a stream in the middle of the woods, I mused aloud. It didn't have a mouthpiece, but rather a flared opening where one presumed a mouthpiece would be inserted -- a "flugelhorn muto", if you will. Anyway, I put it to my lips and was surprised to find it played pretty well, once the water drained out. And, even more surprising, that I played pretty well, out of practice as I was. Maynard Ferguson echoed throughout the woods....