Ant Hills

In a dream, I woke up falling, a gentle downward momentum into a dark hole in the earth. I could feel the cool wind on my body, and the air smelled vaguely sugary. Somewhere, I could hear piano, but I couldn't tell if it was coming from above or below, even though I was falling rapidly. Perhaps it was coming from inside my own head.

When my feet finally landed on solid ground, slowly, gently, and silentlessly, a large black bird greeted me.

"We have been waiting for this moment to arrive."

"Are you sure you have the right human?" I asked. Maybe it was a dumb question.

"Yes."

With that, he turned on the heel of his claw and somberly led me down a dark, downsloping tunnel.

What opened up into view was completely shocking, not to say that it was particularly unexpected, as I knew what to expect, but it remained shocking nonetheless. The queen bee laid on a giant, intricately hand-crafted bed of twigs, weeping.

"She's been crying like that for seven years."

I nodded, and the black bird left the room.

I approached the bed, got on one knee, and whispered into the queen bee's ear. "How about a song?"

Through sobs, she said, "I have been weeping for seven years. What possible solace could a song bring me?"

I unslung the guitar case around my shoulder, and pulled out my acoustic guitar. Resting it on my knee, I plucked a few random notes. The guitar had a beautiful, resonant tone. I played three or four chords, and everything seemed to be in tune.

"This is called 'Hey Jude' by human musicians called the Beatles," I whispered to her.

what is art

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