plain brown notebooks

I dreamed about a stack of ring-bound notebooks with music written in them. They were carefully labeled on the front in thick black pen, but I don't remember the words. Someone showed me a page of music -- neatly defined lines covering the page, dark notes penciled in. He pointed to a spot where the letter "i" was written, more lightly than the rest of the notes. "That's where the musician died," the man told me. But just after the i, the notes continued, as sure as before.