Dream Jurney Day 1

When I got to Chris’s house, it had been dark for hours. Normally when the sun goes down, I become a sleeping ghost, entering the wild ride of hypnogogic dreamland, waking just enough to pull the nose of the car back into the road before slamming into the guard rail, but adrenaline kept me running. I was full of coffee and had good people on the phone to talk about life, music, dreams, and the unfairness that permeates existence.

Earlier, the journey started when I dropped off my son with his mother for the week. I took the first part of the drive to listen through all the songs I wrote in August of this year. Thirty one new songs with no plan. Enough time had passed for me to forget what I wrote. Upon revisiting, some disgusted me, some inspired me, some made me cry. My past became my teacher.

I cleared the air of my ego by listening to The Sunset Tree by the Mountain Goats, awestruck by John Darnielle’s ability to make you feel the exact feelings he wants. An incredible feat without metaphor and only two or three chords. He is a wizard I will revere in the mystical world of songwriting until the age of man passes.

Then I listened to every track my friend Michael ever put out. He has extraordinary talent. Here is this exemplified:

He and I have been writing songs back and forth for years, even in our first years in college. Living rooms, porches, kitchens, back yards, bonfires, all hosted our partnership and love of songwriting together. When I started an open mic night at Gabriel’s Pizza in 2010, I even named it after him: Open Mike Night. His music consistently inspires me.

Once I crossed the Ohio River, the land turned dark and I missed the infinite corn fields of midwest America, which is okay knowing fully I would be sick of corn fields by the end of the next day traveling through Missouri and the border between Nebraska and Iowa.

Zak talked to me about building guitars for a couple hours over the phone filling my head with way too much information as he does. Images of pickups, grounding wires, dusty pots, solder, and copper shielding filled my head, like sugar plums at Christmas, as I fought the strong hammer of exhaustion swing at my eyelids.

At midnight, when I finally arrived at my intended destination, I fell into the heavenly blankets and pillows Chris left for me on the couch, dreaming about what adventures awaited over the next seven days.

What lessons the road had to teach me.

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