I dreamed that I woke up and I sat at my piano. I dreamed it was a normal day. I touched a key happily where the sunlight was resting, and then played another and stopped, because it was wrong. I tried again. It was still wrong, and very swiftly it was all wrong. No two keys played together would sing and I couldn't remember their names, their sounds, or colors as if I had never known it at all. And I was finally alone. I was so filled with terror it was only half heartedly I noticed I couldn't speak either. But somehow it made perfect sense, that if my hands were silent so must I be.
I opened my eyes from this two hours ago and with the light the notes and chords and cadences and sharps and flats flooded me inside, filling all the abandoned spaces they'd left in my mind. You may understand that with all this relief and joy and joy and relief in my heart and head I don't think I will stop playing all day.