So there I am, in a place that seems completely unfamiliar, as aware of my own existence as I ever have been. There are no school bells ringing, nobody staring at me, I actually feel quite comfortable in my own skin. This feeling on its own is something particularly uncommon. Right as I feel I am coming to a point, both philosophically and spiritually, and it all is becoming clear, I wake up the ripping bass melody of the classic song, “I Don’t Want to Work.”
First, I feel my fingers start to move. Then, my toes, followed by my insides literally grooving to the beat. There is something about the bass lines of a well-constructed song. It’s not so much that you hear the music, you actually feel it. I try to glean some insight from how this particular song fit into that dream I was having, but the thoughts are quickly becoming a distant, unreachable memory. I can’t help but think that somehow my unconscious mind is constructing these dreams from the music playing while I am sleeping.
Perhaps, I could attempt to sleep in silence and see what happens. The only problem is, I never seem to get to this point. I loath silence. At least when I was forced to attend theater as a child, there was music and singing involved. Sure, I may not have cared much for the content, or even the rhythm, but it was better than nothing. I am counting the beats in my head, 2, 3, 4 and so on. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize 4 hours have passed. It does not feel like I have even slept, so I flip the pillow over and bury my head back in and try to go back to sleep.
To be continued…