My dreams have become more intense in the eighteen months since Isaac died (and I remember more of them when waking). I've written before about how disconcerting and unsettling it has been on those occasions when I've woken up and have bene dreaming about him. I haven't dreamt about him for a while now, now I think about it. But my dreams remain vivid and intense, often quite stressful, a sign maybe that my subconscious is working overtime, that my brain is processing a lot. The last few weeks have been hard in some ways, the never- ending slog through grief and loss taking a toll. I've got constant low level illnesses, one after another, my immune system clearly not functioning fully. The feeling of dread and emptiness that strikes out of nowhere some days, a sense of being aimless and adrift, not quite sure where the centre is any more.
The times I've felt best in the year and a half since he died have mainly been connected to music and in the company of crowds/ others. Evenings watching bands, where I'm a member of the audience, one person in a crowd. Those weekends DJing at The Golden Lion and Blossom Street. The occasions lost on the dancefloor at the Lion, dancing to the music being played by David Holmes, Justin Robertson and Sean Johnston. These have been the times when I've been lifted out of myself, a few hours of respite and uplift.
This song, Dreams (On The Strip), came from one of those situations. Martin played it when we warmed up for ALFOS three weeks ago and listening to it recently has been a bit of a joy- rippling, gliding, euphoric psychedelia, drums and synths, summer sounding vocals and, in the video, a Lebanese- American belly dancer Alia Mohamed.
Dreams (On The Strip) is by London band Flamingods. It came out at the end of May this year, their first new music since 2019. Well worth the wait. At Bandcamp you can buy it for one pound (dollar/ euro/ unit) and it's worth every penny/ cent. A song that sounds like the sort of thing that should be the soundtrack to our dreams.
9 comments:
It's good that you find comfort in a crowd, and in music (obviously). The subconscious is a powerful beast, and I don't think we'll ever understand it properly. Keep using this place as a sounding board; from my growing experience working in a mental health setting, I'm becoming more and more convinced of the benefits of getting your thoughts down on "paper" and sharing them with sympathetic others.
Take care, Adam.
Thanks Rol. I think writing here about it all has been massively helpful for me. A bit too much for others sometimes maybe but invaluable for me trying to work my way through it.
Dreams are often our subconscious badgering us for attention. I'm sorry you're feeling the slog at the moment Adam, hopefully the summer will feel long and provide some rest and respite. I'm glad that music gives you some connection to joy, and I'm also glad that writing about your grief seems to bring you some peace too. Take care
Sorry to read this Adam, hope you get some rest for the body and the mind.
-warwick @ SRC
As has been said above, so sorry to read that you're going through all that you describe, but it's good to know that there is some therapy to be found in expressing it - and from music too, and those shared experiences of it. A powerful medicine. Take care and here's wishing you the peace and space you need too.
Hey Adam. I’m not sure if you’re into the films of Wes Anderson, but his latest, Asteroid City, deals with the process of grief and the importance of dreams. There is a mantra said over and over again near the end: “You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep.” Viewers have seemed confused by the repeated line, but I suspect you will understand it better than most. You are in my thoughts. - Brian
Brian- I haven't seen it yet but its on my list. Thank you.
SRC, Rikky and C- thank you too
I haven't been able to comment on all of your more deeply reflective posts, Adam, but absolutely not because they're too much. You relate your experiences and your state of mind in an incredibly articulate and engaging way, even for those (like me) who won't have anything close to a true understanding because we haven't lived it.
It's good to hear that writing continues to offer you support in a variety of ways. Long may it continue.
The great thing is that your writing is so inextricably linked with music that even as you are working through and processing some very intense feelings, thoughts and dreams, you never fail to offer up a link to fantastic music. I'm a relatively recent inductee to the world of Flamingods and I hadn't heard their new song, but what brilliant timing and an apt title. I like it a lot.
Lovely Adam, such moving words and glad to provide a small bit of solace and togetherness in the music we all share and play out together x
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