We walked into a lounge in dreamland. At the piano was a bear, dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. He was grinning as he sang one of the old songs. He looked right at us but kept his paws on the piano. “Play us a song, you’re the piano bear!” I heard those lyrics in my head, but wisely I refrained.
I looked over to you. You were enchanted by the scene. You said, “Look, it’s a bear. Look at the bear!” I turned back, and now people had gathered around the piano, and the bear was the center of attention. He looked quite dapper, as if wearing a tuxedo and top hat came naturally to him.
We joined in the song, everyone singing along enthusiastically, as if nothing else really mattered, not the politics, not the disasters, not our past or what may come — just fully present with the bear, the piano, and the song. I didn’t care that it was a dream, I didn’t care that bears don’t play in piano lounges, it was enough to just sing along