It began a few hours ago. A portal opens, no fanfare, no flickering, no labored transition. Fully formed melodies, hooks, lyrics, an album title even. And scenes from an accompanying video, no lie. It doesn't happen every evening, but several times each month, the flood surges. All I have to do is remember.
This morning, I awoke, grabbed the H2, and recounted the dream. Didn't nail the melodies in their entirety, as recollections, like Hammer vampires, tend to crumble with the first wan shafts of dawn. But, as I told an interviewer just yesterday, this is how it happens. Automatic, complete, passing before me, through me.
It's the goddamnedest thing.
TS
Friday, March 12, 2010
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