Cecil Taylor - Dream/Reality

Last night I went into a small bar where Cecil Taylor was playing, not with a band, but a rhythm section backing track. He was crammed into a corner, corn-roll hair, staring at the wall, almost anonymous. I was obsessed with what he was doing, but most others in the room seemed more intent on getting a drink and chatting.
I couldn’t see all of his face...the room was dimly-lit...just a weak spotlight throwing a pale yellow circle of light onto his head. I could see no piano. It was as if he was conjuring notes out of the air, out of the darkness in that corner...
The dream made me crave his music when I woke so I clipped ‘Jazz Advance’ into the Walkman and listened to ‘Bemsha Swing’. Was the urge to listen so strong because I wanted to verify the fact that Cecil exists in reality, as opposed to only the dream world? But Cecil’s music is one long dream...of endless intricate possible routes created by notes and chords which, like dreams, warp time and space, and as I listened the sun broke through grey clouds as if to illuminate my moment of confirmation...