A Memory of Long Ago, Written Down a Year Ago

In a blurred memory, deep inside a gym with blue carpeting, there is a music shop, a thin, light wooden panel door, and the piercing sound of sawing coming from inside. I play the piano, my teachers beside me. I remember nothing at all about them, and I have forgotten every piano skill, including musical notation. All I remember is that whenever I stared at the sheet music, notes of different sizes would grow hands, feet, and eyes. The different kinds of rests would too.