I used to live in a city called Oakville, Ontario. We lived in a small split-level house, just my Mom, my Dad and I. As you went up the front stairs, and turned left, we had a piano. It was on the inside wall of our living room, and it fascinated me. I was drawn to it. When I was four, my mom finally dragged out an old piano book, a beginners kind with about three notes in a piece, and taught me where middle C was. That was also when the dreams began. I only call them dreams because I don't know what else to call them. Trances maybe?. As I sat at the piano bench, I would become unresponsive and completely dazed. The piano would start to play by itself, the most beautiful, morbid, soulful melodies I had ever heard. I would break out of the trance when I heard my mother's voice calling. I began to be afraid of the piano, and stayed away from it if I could. I avoided my living room, and if I did have to go through it for some reason, I always eyed the piano warily. Two years later, we moved away from that house. I stopped having the dreams, and started taking piano lessons. I don't know what caused it, and I never did have the dream again. I'm in Royal Conservatory Grade 9 now, and my fear of the piano has passed, but I'll always remember the dreams.