The Right thing at the Right time

I had terrible dreams last night, dreams that were like bad versions of past things and people, dreams that woke me up every hour on the hour only to let me fall back asleep to a different version of the same uncomfortable feeling. And I ended up on the wrong side of the bed even when waking up with the arms of the one I love wrapped around me.

How unfair. How unfair that one sleepless night of mental insanity can color your entire day, can make you feel like something bigger and more potent than yourself is conspiring to darken your life in some way. How unfair it is when your eyes tear up on their own accord, leaving you to wonder what you could possibly have to cry about?

Three hours later I still felt cloudy and slightly confused, waiting for the 1 train at Christopher Street to whisk me away to the day's next task. And then, from the opposite platform- the strains of Hallelujah. A song that's been sung by so many, so many amazing musicians, and still, to me, sounds like salvation when sung by a nameless busker. A song that instantly saddens me and calms me in such a magical way that I cannot explain it's hold over me or what it means or why I am drawn so to it's sorrowful strains. I watched from across 3 sets of electrified tracks and wished that I could throw far enough for whatever money I had in my wallet to reach his guitar case. And I watched as almost EVERY SINGLE PERSON who walked by on that side of the station, at least every other, threw money into that case. In the four years I've lived here (and all the previous years, when I think I probably noticed much more than I do now), I have seen countless subway and street musicians peddling their talent. And I have never seen one so well-received by the usual foot traffic. It was like this siren song, like this grace, that was having an affect on nearly everyone that took their headphones out of their ears long enough to listen.

A 2 train passed, fast, with a rumble and whoosh and then it was gone, and the guy was only finishing up the bridge. I saw the oncoming 1 train waiting down the tracks, lights blazing, but motionless- like it was giving us the end of the song.

And then, just after the last word, 1 trains from both directions flew in the station and parted the guitar chords that still hung in the air. And I felt a little bit less alone.