I was standing up with the Beatles, all four, who were performing live. As with all my dreams, I found myself there suddenly and didn’t know why or what to do. i tried to keep to a small side area I thought to be off camera. I could imagine the resentment if I appeared to mar the reunion.

After an uncomfortable time, I noticed there was an audience, a congregation at a synagogue. I was their rabbi and was expected to play a traditional instrument. I may have surprised myself by being able to, unusual for me in a dream.

At a banquet hall, I walked past a table where TB was seated. He was quiet, but his companions were discussing girls’ names, coming up with all kinds of dreadful contortions. The only one I could think of was “Anne,” so I suggested it casually without appearing to notice him. TB stirred, seemed to look at me, and to my shock threw in his contribution: “Diane.”

Outside, I saw an entire orchestra roll by, each member strapped to an appropriately sized single wheel. I marveled at the wonder and incongruity, then noticed a violinist for whom it seemed especially dangerous. Some threatened others by rounding corners at too much of a tilt. All were riding toward an apocalyptic sky.

It was then I realized I, in my form as the musical rabbi, was supposed to be leading them.