My Dream

My Dream #1 (January 10, 2020)

I took a wrong turn and wound up in this beautiful place. I was on an icy winter road and then found myself in a golden city on the water. I asked a couple of pretty strangers where I was but they couldn’t tell me. A young blonde girl named Morgan was watching her blonde friends dancing in a dance troupe clogging up the middle of the street that was under a roof. It was kind of like an outdoor mall or place where tourists would go. She was with a young boy with curly hair on a bicycle. He had a very warm feeling about him. Then an old lady phoned Violeta’s mother and she said that help was on the way. She put a radio on a table and it said that one thousand troops from New Town would be coming to help. The old lady said a boat would be coming to pick everyone up. I looked out of a window to see a small body of water leading out into a larger body of water. There was a lot of green and across the way a beautiful city. A European looking city with domes. I tried to guess the name but a voice said not to try.

My Dream #2 (January 11, 2020)

The girl at the top of the steps, who looked like a young Helena Bonham Carter, said you should go to church this morning. Just as she said that I awoke to look at my watch. It read 3:33.

It’s a spring day on January eleventh and that sends my mind wandering. We are on walks over to Kedzie via Lawrence eastward passing the Brown Line glancing to the right and spying the Huddle House. It was possible that we found ourselves there at four in the morning after a show…the waitress saying in a cigarette gruff voice, as she puts down a Denver skillet and a Swiss cheese omelette, “Looks like you two had a rough night.”

With weather like this the roughness of the night before is tempered a bit. But now I have to snap out of this daydream prayer because I have responsibilities to attend to eight hundred and twenty seven miles east. It was nice spending time with her again…just for the moment…light years away. Yes. Perhaps.But she is hardwired to my soul.


My Dream #3 January, 14, 2020


Tell me how you really feel from behind your glass of wine. The kid’s a romantic with visions of other places and times. Short snippets of inhabiting someone else’s body…or flashes against a window to the sky.

Like a room service double play I fell for you twice. Once in this life and now in some other dimension. A beautiful golden dream like space in my mind. I imagine, still, that I’ve always known you and we are walking down that dirt country road. The one that leads to summer. The one that leads to hope. We are twelve or thirteen. The best age.


My Dream #4 (January,15,2020)

Fragments of a dream.

We are in a house that my brother built. At the beginning of the dream the mother of a student of mine is there with me. She is younger than me by about 15 years and blonde. There is someone else there too, but I don’t know who. The mother goes down into the basement and I go looking in a cupboard, under a sink, which is off to the side of the kitchen. I am trying to find pot…the green kind. I find it and want to share it with the mother but the other someone says that that wouldn’t be a good idea. Now I go looking for a room upstairs, where I can smoke it, and come upon one of the attic kind with grey wall to wall carpeting. The windows are low to the ground.

The dream shifts.

The house is to be sold now and I am still there with a different other someone. I couldn’t tell you who that was either. There is also a 6 year old boy with me and we both go out back and around to the side of the house where there are steps leading up to the front. Steely Dan’s ‘Kid Charlemagne” is playing but it doesn’t sound the same as in the waking life. The boy says he likes it.



My Dream #5 January, 20, 2020



There were wooded hills on the edge of some suburban streets. Stax, my Whippet, was scampering about in them.
There was also a deer there who would come up to me for some affection. It was a doe.



Tiredness can diminish imagination. So sitting here, on a day that features a lack of sleep from the night before. While I am trying to dial some up, I am reminded of a hot summer day probably around 1966; when at the age of six I complained to my mother that I had nothing to do. All the kids in the neighborhood were at camp or elsewhere, for some other reason. Maria, being the beautiful spirit she was, said, “How would you like to go out side and paint the front wall for me?” I looked at her with my head tilted like a confused pup. But after a few seconds I thought…that sounds like fun! Yes! She then handed me a paint brush and a coffee can filled with water and told me to get to it. Andiamo, Marco! Of course I had to keep going to the spigot to refill the can. I did that for a few hours, but the joy of this endeavor made it feel like a few minutes. Being a songwriter, I pride myself in having a very good imagination. After all I learned from the best. Maria Alberta. My steam.


My Dream #6  (February 7, 2020)


The top right corner of the page was folded as a place marker. Page 107, the seventh page of the seventh chapter. This is where she must have left off. To know her long slender fingers had delicately turned these pages gives comfort and sends my thoughts through a certain sensation. If I was sitting next to her, as I often do in my daydreams, I would trace them with mine after she put her hands to her side palms down on the green leather couch. It sends a shot of warmth up my spine.

She suggested I read the author, Marguerite Duras.  And so I will. And so I am. Another way to keep me connected with her, not that there needs to be a reason. As I’ve said before, she is hardwired to my soul.

Daydream (January 28, 2020)

I have a reoccurring daydream. I will look out a window, as I did today giving a piano lesson, and for a moment I have this feeling or memory of being from the American Civil War period. I must admit that it’s a very good feeling. It happens a couple of times a year.

Fragments of a Dream (January 30, 2020)

I’m in a closed in horse and buggy with a non descriptive male friend and his female counterpart. I with mine. My friend and I are singing “Donkey Rides A Penny  A Glass” by the Small Faces. At the top our lungs, ‘I like wasting away in a caravan!” The dream shifts and this friend and I are now in a house drawing the curtains to let the sun in.

It’s Christmas Eve. 11:45 pm. The rain is pounding in Stamford, Connecticut. I love it. It reminds me of Kathleen. We both hoped for these kinds of nights. It is such a special night Christmas Eve. It is the eve of the night I flew to Chicago in 2010 to meet KT. But this night, 10 years later, is special too.

My dream#7

t’s Christmas Eve. 11:45 pm. The rain is pounding in Stamford, Connecticut. I love it. It reminds me of Kathleen. We both hoped for these kinds of nights. It is such a special night Christmas Eve. It is the eve of the night I flew to Chicago in 2010 to meet KT. But this night, 10 years later, is special too.

December 24, 2020.

Christmas Eve.

I spent the evening with Evie and Juan. What a blessing. Then by chance, King Quiet came on the computer..somehow. ???. Evie’s photo from Shanghai on the cover of “Ping”…the second solo record? It was the Prairie Mix by Robert Baird. Dear Sir Robert who I spoke with earlier in the day from western Michigan. Another blessing. Evie. Robert. These are special human beings. These people are my heart. Then a text from Daniel. Kathleen’s Daniel. Kai responded too. These people, here and there, always in my heart and soul. Kai responded. Daisy. And my brothers. My beautiful family, who I couldn’t be with tonight. Lock solid in my heart and soul. Wendy Girl with the call inviting me to Laurie Girl in case I had no one to be with…..But Evie…my daughter and my FAMILY…to be with her?

Christmas Eve. The Rain.

My Dream #8 March21,2021

Did you ever have your heart broken so much that it brought you back to life? Sober. Over. Anything that would take you…over.

So now I walk these streets daily. Through the park and back out onto the streets passing a plethora of restaurants and coming across
the occasional bronze statue of a business man or an artist painting the oncoming traffic. These days you rarely see a smile on someone’s face, or even a frown. Most people have acquiesced to the muzzling of our God given facial expressions. So all I can do is imagine that the woman is smiling at me as I catch her eye. I smile. She can certainly see that I am, with my flirting glance. I pretend. I dream. I walk on by in a relaxed Burt Bacharach kind of way.