Dreams can sometimes hit it on the spot. I have a passion or near obsession for music in my life that some people find unbalanced and kind of odd. A dream I had not long ago explains my emotions better than anything else.
I found myself in what seemed to be a medieval castle, with stone masonry and dim lighting. After a few moments, I realized it was actually a prison, with bars in the windows and no apparent way out. Walking around there was a wall with dozens of eyes fixed on me, watching me with a bitter gaze and determined to keep me in my cell. I kept walking around, almost paniced, but finally finding a passage to another room. And there was none other than Ringo Starr, smiling at me with his affable manner, giving me relief and releasing me from the distress. I might prefer BB King or Eric Clapton greeting me, but Ringo was probably the most recognizable music figure when I was growing up, and his amiable personality makes him fitting for the part.
I ran toward Ringo and leaped to give him a high-five. He was larger than life, so I had to jump pretty high. I then ran to a door he had left open for me, escaping from my prison.
I play the blues everywhere I go, and might go nowhere without it. It allows me to walk busy sidewalks and ride crowded buses with peace and solitude and gives me the freedom to go anywhere I want. Without it I’m nearly paralyzed and confined to my studio cell.
Can’t get my mind off this song now.