I think I met my muse in a dream when I was a teenager or tween.

My muse was actually a boy and not some Greek Goddess.  He tricked me actually, and for some unknown reason.  Even the riddle in the symbolism of his trick has puzzled me as a riddle with no answer.  He was very much a boy and no gray haired old man and quite free of those.  His eyes were very piercing.  I liked him and admired him.   That is the story at the later part of a long dream.  I keep the details about the trick to myself.