I don't remember many dreams these days, but last night I had a strange one about my late friend Alan Freeman. In the dream I was still working at the Miami University library in Oxford, Ohio, but Alan's parents' home was not in West Middletown, but just down the hill from the library. I wandered about the library stacks, and I was in sections of the library only accessible to staff; I was looking for an orchestra score. When I left the library, I got to Alan's house by sitting on the top of the hill and sliding on my butt to his yard. His mother was out, and his dad was doing something like trying to rid the yard of gophers. The only other thing I remember now is Alan taking me into a room that had two pianos.