Sunday morning I awoke with this zombie tune in my head. I say zombie because a zombie was singing this song and dancing both loose-limbed and spasmodically to it. I kept dreaming about her and my pressing need to write it down when I awoke, but I was stuck in a repetitious cycle of false awakenings.
It was a strange dream not so much for the weird content but for the plain fact that it wasn’t a nightmare.
I know, musicals and zombies, how is that not a nightmare? But it wasn’t because although there were parts in it that were horrific, I was an observer, and that much needed distance made it less horrific.
I’ve been having nightmares at least twice a night several times a week for over a year now. Sleep and I have never been easy bedfellows. I’ve had trouble sleeping for as long as I can remember, but it has never been so constant. I told Mark that in college I could fall asleep without any problems, but recently a college chum corrected me on that. He remembered how I’d drink gallons of coffee and tell him how I hadn’t slept more than 2 hours that night. And I remembered myself being immune to caffeine and anxiety back then. Okay, well memory mis-remembers.
But this past year, the nightmares have gotten out of control. I fall asleep and then twenty minutes later, I jerk awake, believing whatever I’ve dreamed. Last time it happened was this past Friday night. In that nightmare, it’s very late, around 3 a.m., and Mark is driving our old Astrovan on some deserted street in Mendham I’ve never seen before. These two men are running towards us and then we notice that the man trailing the first has a gun and shoots the other one as he turns towards him. That’s when Mark throws the van into reverse and the shooter starts firing at us. I woke up and also woke Mark up trying to forget this dream. He said “just think of The Hobbit” and so I fell back to sleep but did not resume the dream.
So my Sunday morning dream was a surprise because I didn’t wake up with my mouth sore from grinding and clenching my teeth, yet the dream took me to a strange place.
A man and his girlfriend lived in a cobbled together house on a cliff near a sea. His girlfriend’s sister also lived there until one day, after attending a party, she was kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery. For years they tried to find her, only to discover she had been killed. But then the dead sister found her way back to their peaceful house on the edge of nowhere. She was dead and she looked it, but her sister helped her cover the seeping bullet wound in her forehead with heavy-handed pancake make-up and even flesh colored paint. The three of them started playing music hence my dream song, I Want To Be Loved. I think the zombie sister is in love with her brother-in-law and that’s what the song is about.
There was a Sleater Kinney esq feedbacky quality to their instruments but when I woke up I couldn’t replicate it so I just jotted down the lyrics and sang the melody on my iPhone. It was somewhat of a weirdly happy song in the dream – Le Tigre esque – hence the zombie bopping along to it. But the melody I remembered or could replicate was far darker.
No chords yet but I’m working on it. Mark says it probably won’t go on the next album, Fancy Hercules, but maybe I can convince him if I get it right. I worry that perhaps this is a song fragment that was buried in my subconscious from someone else. That is always the danger in dreams. I don’t think it’s anything like Etta James’ song. It’s Fiona Apple saucy perhaps?
Sorry it’s been so long since I posted. It’s one of my myriad resolutions to blog more consistently.