The drugs coursed into his ears, ambien to his soul.
He was fading, drifting into the mindless oblivion of dreams.
In the enter of the room he saw two pianos, one stacked upon the other.
An oil lamp, dimmed, sat on a small table near the window.
Outside, he could imagine hearing the hooves of a carriage horse clopping on the cobblestones.
A man sits at the piano. He is dressed in the same attire that he's worn every day for years.
The man begins playing melancholic, haunting notes on the piano, a trying session for his neighbors.

Tonight, like every night, and even during some days, he would listen to the music of the pianist.
Over the course of forty-one minutes, ten pieces would be performed.
But, like always, he would only remember hearing a few.
Each solo piano concerto was the same, beginning with No.1, then No. 7, then No. 2 thru No. 6.
He rarely made it to the the three Gymnopedies that followed; he almost always passed during the Gnossiennes.
Sometimes, though not very often, in lieu of the Gnossiennes and Gymnopedies, he would bravely venture into the hours of Vexations, only to awaken to the same. Vexations was much a different experience.

The imagination is powerful, and coupled with the beauty of music, he relaxes and rests.
As he travels into distant worlds, he ponders the thought that same drugs are much better than others. And then, like magic, he is gone, only to reincarnate later.

The dreams of artists can live forever, and for many of us, their works are our drugs.
The pianist composer has passed, but his legacy lives on.
Oh, if only Satie were alive today!
Erik would be so proud of Reinbert de Leeuw, Jeans-Yves Thibaudet, and the countless other artists that have interpreted and performed his works so magnificently.