The Blank

For those of you who have read some of my previous posts and know even a little about me, I consider myself a musician and a composer. My method of composing is very simple: I wait for something to inspire me and I start translate that inspiration into music. I never make it a point to sit down and force any music out; its always very spontaneous, hits me all of a sudden anytime and anywhere and I never know when its going to happen. It can be another song I hear, something someone says, a poem or story I read, an event, or even just a word, and for some reason my brain begins translating it into music. Usually this happens a couple of times a month. I can count on being 'hit' with inspiration often enough that I don't have to go desperately looking for it.

Lately, though, this has NOT been the case. I'm not sure what happened, but about three or four months ago my muse flew the the coop. I didn't realize it at first, but after about a month or so I realized, 'hey, I haven't done any music lately'. I mean, I will still from time to time sit at the piano and mess around, but no solid compositions or ideas have resulted. When I first realized it I wasn't bothered that much; I figured I just had to wait a while and it would come back. That's not working. And when I try to compose or create something its horrible or just ends up being just like something I'd done or heard before. I don't know what happened. I've jut blanked.

I don't know if it has anything to do with what's going on in my life or the fact that I'm just getting older. I've read that schools and education actually hinder creativity in most kids, and that kids get less and less creative they older they get. I do notice my expectation of the world and life getting more and more complicated, and this could be strangling my creative voice. Who knows.

I'm sure this also has to do with why I haven't been blogging as much lately. I'm the type that doesn't like to force things, music or literature. Sometimes I can feel a certain way and have certain thoughts but I just can't find the right words. Is it wrong if a person doesn't want to just force something out that doesn't accurately reflect what he/she is feeling? I know a lot of people can do that, but I just can't see myself doing it.

Anyways, I'm actively seeking inspiration. I'm not going to force music out just because I have to, though. I'm trying to keep my eyes and ears open to anything and everything, and hope that moment comes...

3 January 2011

Well, I thought I would have some crazy dream after falling asleep around 2 AM New Year's morning but, alas, I was robbed. It wasn't until last night that the subconscious creative energies and other mysterious forces of inspiration kicked in for 2011.

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I was taking a trip downtown on my bike, on my way to the Barber Shop where I usually get my haircut and somehow I got extremely disoriented. I knew exactly where the Barber Shop was and I'd been there countless times before, but for some reason, it suddenly was like the entire city had been dumped upside down and I had no idea where I was.

When I thought I found my way, I rode for a little while longer until I arrived at what I thought was the Barber Shop I normally went to. The exterior of the shop looked generally the same, except more of a run down, grungy version of where I normally got my hair cut. I leaned my bike against the old brick wall and hesitantly went to the screen door and opened it. As soon as I looked inside I realized I was in the wrong place, but I had already taken a step through the door and the people inside where staring directly at me.

I sat down in a worn down old sofa directly across from an old man who was getting his hair cut by another old man. They both stole suspicious glances at me from time to time as I tried not to make too much eye contact with them. Finally, the old Barber said, "How ya doin' son?" "Good." I replied. "I'll be with you in a few minutes..." he said.

I didn't respond as my attention was drawn to the many pictures on the wall above the Barber's mirror, faded old images that looked like they'd been taken back in the 1940's and 50's. Some of them looked like the old Barber when he was very young, some of him in military uniforms.

There was also a small television with a black and white picture sitting on a cinder block and wood table. There was a talk show on, one of those where the people on stage have absurd disputes with each other. I didn't know exactly what they were talking about but the people on stage always looked like they were on the verge of having a fist fight with one another while the host just stared with a grin on his face.

Just as I was starting to understand what the show was about, the Shop door opened and an old man walked in. I could tell by his grungy, tattered clothes and his disoriented limp that he was probably homeless. He kept tugging up his pants which looked like they were held up by a rope instead of a belt. He had a beat up, faded black hat pulled down over his head and such an angle that I couldn't see his face. A slightly sour smell floated in the air from him in my direction.

"Joey! What's up, man?" The barber said. I guess he knew him.

"Awww, man, just trying to make it that's all." The homeless man said carefully taking a seat in a cushioned chair at an angle from me. I still couldn't see his face.

"It's gettin' kinda hot out there, huh?" The barber asked.

"Hey, man..." The homeless man, Joey, started, not really paying attention to the barber's question, "You got any blank CDs man? I need some blank CDs."

"Now what you gonna do with some CDs?" The barber asked, chuckling.

"Aw, man I got this song. This song man..." Joey started humming to himself.

"You still trying to play that piano man? You still doing that music stuff?" The barber asked. That's when I noticed the man who's hair he was cutting was still staring right at me.

"Aw, man, this song man, this song..." That's all Joey was saying as he sort of hummed to his own words. He wasn't really addressing anyone in particular, just went on and on, looking down at the floor, tapping his foot. As he continued to do so, he took off his hat, and when he looked up, a chill went up my spine. I don't know how I could tell, I just knew, that I was looking at an aged version of myself. It was like looking into a mirror that adds 60 years to your appearance. It was me, with a long receding gray hairline, wrinkles, eyes that look like life and hope had been drained from them, and a crooked mouth that no longer looked like it could smile. I don't know why they called him Joey, but I knew it was me.

I suddenly became filled with anxiety as my body seemed to be completely overtaken with the chills. My eyes started to fill with tears. My lower lip trembled. I wanted to scream out. I jumped up and started to run out the door of the Barber Shop when I started to hear a heavy bass beat, a strong rhythmic pulse that pounded in my ears.

The last thing I remember hearing was the man in the barber's chair saying, "See, I told ya'll..."

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I was slapping my pillow when I woke up. My allergies have been really bothering me and so I could feel a headache coming on from congestion.

I'd like to send a special THANK YOU to Bleah for checking up on me from time to time. I'm pretty sure that without her support, I would have given up on this blogging business a long time ago.

A Dream, 12-13-10

My mom and I are in some small town in southwest Texas. There are lots of antique shops and I believe the main street is a dirt road. Its late in the day, and the sun is just about to dip into the horizon. We end up walking into this small shop to do some Christmas shopping right before the shop closes.

I don't know how long we were in the shop. It couldn't have been that long, but all of a sudden we were at the only checkout lane/register in the store with this huge (no, HUGE) pile of miscellaneous items we planned to purchase. Now, when I say miscellaneous, I mean completely random, and when I say pile, I mean a serious heap of stuff. There was everything in this pile from socks, to little pieces of candy, to soccer cones, to finger nail polish, to a folding chair, a laptop computer, a fishing reel, a basket of leaves, shirts, pants, belts, watches, bricks, bottled water, a lamp, a car tire, a flashlight, some kind of moon-shaped pendants, just a bunch of random stuff!

So, the only cashier was an older gray-haired man and I think he was also the shop keeper. After scanning about half the items, he shook his head, looked at his watch and said, "Here, you finish up", handing me the barcode scanner, so I guess we were supposed to finish our own transaction. There was also a couple in line behind us; they only had one item to purchase but it was too late to let them go in front so they just kind of stood behind us mumbling to themselves.

I started scanning the items one by one with the little hand-held scanner. Some of the items had their barcodes printed in hard to read areas, like little pieces of candy, and so what I knew was going to take a long time started to take forever.

After some time of scanning objects, with the pile not seeming to get any smaller (I think my mom was adding things to the pile as I was scanning) a familiar voice said in a low growl, "Here, let me finish this." Suddenly, the beast was standing behind the checkout counter, wearing a green and red apron and an elf's hat. He took the scanner into his paw and started scanning items. I blinked once, and my mom and I were suddenly standing outside the shop in the street. The sign on the shop's door said closed. There were about thirty bags filled with the stuff we'd purchased sitting all around us. I ran back to look through the shop window to see if the beast was still there, but the shop was completely dark.

15 October 2010

Yesterday, after I got home around 6pm from a busy day of school and basketball, I layed down on the couch just to rest my eyes. I must have fallen asleep within seconds of my head hitting the cushion. I had the following dream.

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It is the late afternoon, and everything was in black and white, which is very common for my dreams, except for little patches of color here and there where it seemed like color was weakly trying to break through. I was jogging on the shoulder of a highway alongside a woman riding a bike. Her face always seemed turned away from me and hidden by pale blond hair, so I don't remember if it was someone I knew or not. I am barefoot and can feel the warm pavement on the soles of my feet. There is no traffic. We are both carrying large objects, unusually large objects, like heavy pieces of furniture. I am loosing my grip on whatever it is I'm carrying as we race along. I look down at my side where I'm carrying the large object and it has turned into a door. Seeing me struggling, the woman takes the door from me then speeds ahead on her bike carrying both large objects. Watching her race ahead of me, I take a mis-step into the grass beside the road and something barbed, like a short piece of barbed wire, sticks in my left foot in the 3rd and 4th toes. The woman turns away from the highway and heads into a wooded path, like a corridor of trees. I turn in after her, my fight still caught on the barbed object, and find her in the woods fallen off her bike at a bend in the path. I run to her, crying "Oh, no, oh, no, no...!". She says, "It hurts right here," and points to a spot just below her left hip. I see an icon of the sun tattooed on her wrist. I ask if I should call anyone for help, and she says she's not sure I should. I starts to say, "My name is Krys..." but I don't hear her very well. She then takes out a cell phone and dials a number.

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I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I could hear my mom in the kitchen singing to herself and preparing dinner. I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming or not. My phone rang again. Disoriented, I grabbed my phone which was on the floor beside the couch and answered it. I heard a woman's voice say "Hello", but with an electronic sounding voice, like it was just a recording. I said something like, "Uh, hello? Who is this?" But I didn't hear anything but static on the line after that. I listened for about a minute or so, not sure what to expect, then hung up.

My name is Logan.

7 September 2010

Last night's dream.

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I was in a waiting room, sort of like at a doctor's office. It was me and someone else, an older person, maybe my mom. The other person was sitting and reading something and I was pacing nervously around the room. At some point I noticed through an open door a woman laying on her side on some sort of white examination table. She was wearing a patient's gown that left her back exposed from the waist up. A doctor (I guess he or she was a doctor) was unplugging a large, thick, red and blue braid of wire from the back of her head. The woman shuddered as the wire was pulled away.

The doctor was speaking to her in a calm tone, reassuring her everything was okay. When the wire was pulled completely away, I noticed it had been plugged directly into her exposed brain right where the spinal cord goes up into the skull. When I saw the exposed area I became uneasy, like I would faint, and suddenly very upset. I started to cry and scream because I knew what was going on.

It was some sort of process where people would go into long sleeps and live paradise-like fantasy worlds. I didn't know exactly what was in the worlds, but I knew the people had all of their desires fulfilled and nothing to worry about in the world. Everything there was peaceful and happy, and when they were plugged in the people stayed in that state for several months at a time. When they were finally unplugged for a short while before they went back, the people had to be relaxed and reassured because it was emotionally painful for them to return to reality.

I continued to cry and scream as the doctor gave the woman some kind of a short just above the elbow. The person in the waiting room was trying to console me, telling me that it would be okay and that it didn't hurt much and that I was going to be very happy. But I knew something was terribly wrong with it all. When people started getting the treatment, being plugged into the paradise worlds, it was optional, but I suspect that it was becoming less and less so.

I then started to choke, uncontrollably, like something was caught in my throat. That's when I woke up.

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It turns out I really did have something in my throat, like a crumb, while I was sleeping and that's what woke me up. I continued to cough and choke as I sat up in my bed until I dislodged the thing. It was around 4am. I went to the kitchen, had a sip of water, then went back to bed.

Si oiseau j'etais

This doesn't happen very often, but last night I definitely dreamed I was a bird.

I don't know what kind of bird I was, but I was rather small, maybe the size of a finch, and my feathers were black and white. It's kind of hard to describe, but I knew I was me and I knew as I was flying around that I really wasn't a bird. It felt sort of like I was given some sort of temporary gift, like something was allowing me to see life from the perspective of a bird.

I was flying around someones house (not my own), through a garden, sometimes landing on a wooden fence, sometimes on the roof. At some point I saw a family, in a blurry off to the side sort of way as if I weren't really looking at or paying attention to them. I think it was a mother and her two kids walking out of a garage where they had parked their car.

At some point I landed on a water hose or something long and skinny on the ground. (Probably because I got stung by that thing) I quickly took flight when I saw a large red beetle crawling in my direction through the low-cut grass.

I remember circling a large tree and seeing the sun in the distance. For a moment I felt like I was being drawn to it, like that's where I belonged. I saw a few other birds in the distance flying toward the sun and immediately started after them. But the more I flapped in that direction, the heavier my wings seemed to get. Not only that, it seemed I wasn't going anywhere because I kept circling the tree even though I was trying my hardest to fly toward the sun. I felt like I would burst into tears as a sick feeling started to grow inside me and a weight seemed to bear down on top of me. My breathing became labored. No matter how hard I flapped and how much I tried to change my direction, I just kept circling the tree.

When the other birds seemed to disappear into the radiance of the sun, I heard a sound. It was soft at first, distant. I heard it once, then again but louder, and again even louder. It was the sound of my cell phone's text message alerts.

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And that's when I woke up. I had fallen asleep on the couch, and when I looked down at my phone on the floor there were four text messages received. All of them were from the same person. None of them really were necessary.

Ouch.

So, I'm out riding my bike in the woods behind my house, having a good time, cruising through the trails, enjoying the shade from the sun and suddenly I feel this sharp, sudden sting on my right arm just above the elbow. For a moment it felt really cold and I though maybe a branch had just whipped my arm, but then it started to hurt like the dickens. I look down at my arm and there's a red and purple circle: something had stung me. I don't know if it was a wasp, bee, or anything else that stings, I just know I got stung.

I don't know why, but I find it sort of funny that the 'culprit' was not identified and still at large. That's right, the little creature that stung me for no apparent reason, is still out there in the woods (for all I know), perhaps sitting in his little den or hive, relaxing with a cup of tea in his rocking chair chuckling diabolically to himself, just waiting for my return. I mean, I never even saw him, or her, or it, or whatever. That's just wrong. It's just flat out evil.

Even at this very moment, my arm is throbbing at the spot where he got me. And now, no matter how hard I try, whenever I go out into the woods I am going to be wary of mysterious stinging creatures lurking behind every branch and stone. Maybe that was his plan. Maybe he just wanted to send me a warning, as if to say, "stay out of my part of the woods or else..."

18 August 2010

Last night's dream. I woke up around 3 A.M and could not go back to sleep.

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I remember getting on a bus, sometime in the afternoon. The sky was overcast, grey, foreboding, and a light drizzle fell, just enough to dampen my jacket. I sat down on the first seat I came to and tried to use my cell phone to call Mark. when I pressed the call button, 'no signal' scrolled across the screen and figured it was because of the weather or maybe the bus was passing through a dead zone. After several attempts I looked up and noticed several people around me having the same problem.

After about ten minutes, the bus suddenly and violently stopped, causing the phone to fly out of my hand. After picking it up from under the seat in front of me I looked out the window and saw traffic jammed all around us. The traffic lights were out, and people were standing around their cars looking rather confused. Someone complained to the bus driver that 'it was his job to get us out of the traffic and to where we needed to go' the driver barked something in response about the radio system being down and that the bus was completely walled in by traffic.
I felt something was terribly wrong, but at that time I couldn't have imagined exactly how wrong things were. I looked down at my phone and saw that it had very little charge left. I turned it off to preserve what was left of the battery, though, for some reason, I felt like I would never need it again.

The ground under us began to rumble as from a distant explosion. The rain fell a little heavier. The driver calmly turned off the engine. Everyone on the bus sat and quietly waited.

31 Days Later...

Well, here we are again, another (what was it Bleah, a month?) has passed and I somehow find myself gravitating to the blogosphere again. And where have I been for the past month and what in the world have I been doing...? Well, I'll let you, my readers decide. So, what do you think Logan has been up to for the last month that was so important he couldn't sit at a computer for five minutes and type a blog entry. Just so your imaginations don't get too out of hand, I will go ahead and tell you a few things I have NOT been doing for the past month...

1. I have NOT been a spy in any foreign country.

2. I have, in fact, NOT left the United States or the planet Earth.

3. I have NOT been suffereing from severe heat stroke brought on by this infernal southern summer heat

4. I have NOT been wandering in a Labyrinth hidden beneath the country fighting all sorts of mythological creatures

5. I have NOT been filming movies in Hollywood.

6. I have NOT been in a coma or had any other incapascitating illness

7. I did NOT change into a bird or any other animal that lacked the proper digits with which to type.

8. I have NOT been under the influence of any mind controlling polar animals...at least I don't think so. Really, I'm not so sure about that one, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the case.

Well, there you go. These things did NOT keep me from blogging, so I'll now leave it up to your imagination to guess what I have been doing...

"Seriously..."

Just so we don't forget (especially me) this is supposed to be a blog about my dreams. At least, that was my vision when I started out. I just realized that one reason I was slacking off with m entries was because I hadn't been paying very close attention to my dreams lately. I know I've been having them, but I simply wasn't taking the little bit of extra time to write them down or wasn't making the effort to try to remember them. Bad writer. Bad.

So, thanks to Bleah's persistence in getting me to write and the entry I posted on her music blog, and in the spirit of getting back to my original purpose, here is part of last night's dream (the part I can remember).

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I was getting into the back seat of a small car (don't know who's car or what kind of car it was). The was a woman driving who I didn't know. She had long, straight black hair and was wearing a pink shirt. She said something about taking me back home because I was in the wrong place. Her accent sounded like she was from England. There was someone else in the passenger seat of the car, a rather large (overweight) person but I couldn't really tell if it was a man or a woman; that side of the car was kind of blurry, at least as I am remembering it now.

The woman driving car told me to buckle up but when I tried to I found that there were no seat belts in the car. I also noticed that the floor and seats were all covered with scattered papers, like documents of some sort. When I looked closer at one of the documents, I saw that all of the text was in German. I tried to read some of it but the woman driving turned her head a little bit as if to see what I was doing, and I quickly turned my attention back to looking for the seat belts.

We drove around for a little while (the car made a strange whirring noise, as if it had some futuristic power source) and as we did, the neighborhood we were driving through seemed to melt away. The woman said something about "almost there" and I could feel myself falling asleep in the back seat. Just before I fell asleep, I felt my hand, as if it were moving on it's own, reaching for one of the documents laying in the seat next to me. When I touched the document, I felt an odd sensation, as if my fingertips were freezing and on fire at the same time. The woman must have noticed, and the last thing I remember hearing before I woke up was her saying, "Logan...seriously..."

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When I woke up, I found I was laying on my hand (the same one I'd reached for the document with) kind of awkwardly and that it had fallen partially asleep.

Off the Grid

Well, I guess technically I wasn't completely off the grid, but it was still pretty neat. I spent the last two weeks staying with my grandparents on their farm in Ohio. No Internet access, no cable TV, no cell phone service, and, believe it or not, I'm still alive. It was weird for two or three days, not knowing what was going on in the rest of the digital world, but after that I found myself strangely liberated. Aside from the back-breaking labor my grandfather put me through -hoeing gardens, hauling mulch, cleaning gutters, mowing weeds (not all as bad as it sounds) - I found life in the slow, less developed lane rather enjoyable.

The 24 hour drives there and back weren't so fun.

I'm still convinced...

...they are listening.

My name is Logan.

Today...

...I decided to cut back on the texting, like back to NONE if I can do anything about it.

Within the space of about an hour, I had a texting "conversation" with a friend of mine over absolute nonsense, and only realized later that we could have just called each other and the conversation would have lasted about 30 seconds. What's worse is that, while I could have been focusing on other things (I haven't composed anything new for about a month now), I could feel my mind preoccupied with waiting for my friend's text responses, sort of like my mind was tethered to the little digital device sitting at the edge of the table.

I know we like to think we have control, but how much time do we spend in our minds waiting for phone calls, text messages, emails, etc? Even when we're physically doing other things, our minds are always preoccupied with wondering about communication through our little digital devices. Why hasn't he (or she) called? Why are they taking so long returning my text? What did that text mean? Who else is he (or she) texting? Etc. etc.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my fingers frantically running over the little keypad of the phone, my hair kind of messy, the light from the screen shining a bit in my eyes. I don't know. I felt just a bit...

HELP

Okay, things are getting pretty serious here. I have gone, I don't know, four, five, six weeks without blogging and it has not been because I didn't want to. Honestly, the times when I do sit to write, I just completely blank. Nothing really is going on in my life that's worth mentioning and I haven't had a single weird or crazy dream (with our without polar bears) for some time now. I do still have my suspicions about The Polar Bear Project, don't get me wrong about that, but even that little piece of my life has fallen dormant lately. I guess I shouldn't be complaining about having my sanity back, even if just for a little while...

Anyways, I am now reaching out to my fellow bloggers. Donate some ideas to me! Please! It can be anything...I just need something to write about at least to keep my writing skills decent.

By the way, if you have a chance check out Bleah's Blog. She is a very sweet blogger and very good about checking up on her followers...!

What's up with the dog? Really, I just like the picture. He (or she) looks determined to overcome all obstacles, even writer's block.

So how about it? Anyone with any ideas they wouldn't mind tossing me...?

Deja vu

So, lately I've been frequently experiencing what a lot of people call Deja vu, having the feeling like I was doing, thinking, or saying something exactly the same as I had at some earlier part of my life. Sometimes its a feeling like I'm somewhere I've been before seeing or hearing something I'd heard or seen before.

No, its not like sitting in class at school one day after another and thinking, "hmm, this seems familiar." For example, the last time it happened was this morning. I was getting out of bed and I heard a plane fly over the house. At the same time, I saw a sparrow land on a branch outside my window and suddenly got the feeling the sparrow was telling me something, something about how I should wait a while before I go downstairs for breakfast. At that moment, a weird chill went through me and I got sort of light-headed, like I was re-living the exact same morning the exact same way it had happened at some other point in my life. It was sort of like a feeling where you know you're aware of something, something bigger than yourself and that transcends time and space, but you can't understand it intellectually. Anyways, the feeling came and went very quickly, and no matter how hard I tried to hold on to it the familiarity of it all faded.

It's hard to describe the feeling of Deja vu to someone who has never experienced it before. It's a little scary but at the same time an awesome feeling in that you're aware of something grand even if for only a moment. Imagine yourself standing in two places of time at once, and only being aware of it through a sixth sense.

I've experienced the feeling before but, like I said, its been happening a lot more frequently lately. I know the feeling of Deja vu is sometimes explained by dreamed experiences, and sometimes we really do experience events or do or say things just like we did in the past, and we just don't remember. But that weird feeling you get...

Can anyone out there relate? When was the last time you experienced Deja vu and were you able to figure it out?

A Moment

Went to the movies tonight. Found a seat, empty-handed (didn't have $30 to spend on popcorn or a soda). We were about twenty minutes early so I sat and did my best to look around at other people while trying not to look nosy. Just a little concerning, what I saw...

So I saw a row of about 6 people in the seats in front of me with the bright screen from their cell phones lighting up their faces. The lady almost directly in front of me was sending a text message that said, "in the movie now, will text u later" (yeah, like you wouldn't try to see what kinds of texts other people are sending). Anyways, a girl next to me also had her little device out, scrolling through some musical selections that ran from the device into her ears. Behind me, I kept hearing the buzz/blip combination of sounds as someone was sending and receiving text messages. The pre-show on the screen occasionally went through a silent commercial about sending a text to the (x) theater and getting discounts on candy and popcorn.

There was one moment, an eerie moment that I'll never forget. For just a moment or so, the theater was almost completely silent; no one talked to each other, with only the sound of shuffling and an occasional blip, buzz, or bleep of a cell phone action. It was strange, almost like there was no one really there in the theater, and we were all just a bunch of computers executing programs through our devices.

I closed my eyes and imagined the beast on the big screen, his large, cavernous eyes looking down on us, his mouth slightly turned at one corner into a satisfied grin...

A text message from my friend Nico brought me back to reality.

Impossible

Maybe we're at our best when people tell us we can't do things. I think the truly dedicated thrive in worlds of impossibilities. I have recently witnessed the impossible, and know now that Will and belief in one's own abilities are enough to completely erase that awful word. How many times have we been faced with an obstacle, told ourselves it was impossible to overcome, and therefore were defeated before the challenge even began? I'm sorry to say I was a victim of my own self limitations for too long.

But now, anything and everything is possible. When the creative mind is free and boundless, there is nothing we cannot do, nothing we cannot become.

My name is Logan...

Did the Beast finally catch up with him?

No, no. The beast has not caught up with me, yet. I know there have been a lot of rumors going around - Logan's dead this, government cover-up that - but the truth is that I am perfectly healthy and fine. As a matter of fact, I've been very busy getting to know a very good friend of mine who goes by the name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Now, just keep the butterfly net in the closet; I'm not saying I've actually been talking with Mozart. No, actually I have been learning a lot about him by trying to arrange one of his great works, the awesome Requiem, a piece that he composed just before his death.

Visit my other blog, Apollyon, to listen to my arrangement of the instrumental parts (hopefully, one day, I can get people who sing to add the vocals). Who knows - maybe if I added some percussion it could make a good rap beat...

Other news? I've been getting a lot of commentary and feedback on Alpha, which is great. Also, it rained here for about a week-and-a-half straight, and now the sun is shining. : )

Well, I've said it before and I'll say it again...They are listening to your thoughts...

Have a great Valentines Day and thank you for following!

I guess polar bears play basketball now...

I don't know why I didn't do this before, but I've decided to start posting about my dreams that involve 'the beast'.

I had the following dream last night. My allergies kept me up most of the night (stupid mountain cedar) and for some reason I kept looking out the window waiting for the rain we're supposed to get, but at some point around 2 AM I managed to fall asleep.

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The first thing I remember from the dream was being in a packed basketball arena (San Antonio Spurs vs. some other team in white jerseys). I was sitting next to Bobby up in the nosebleed section - you know, the seats where you can reach up and touch the ceiling. Bobby was giving his best impression of a rock, as usual, silent, motionless, and cold.

The crowd was going nuts as the other team in white got a fast break. The entire arena boomed with the sound of cheering, air horns, and whistling as a huge guy from the team in white dunked the ball into the hoop, the entire backboard shattering and as even the metal fixtures holding the goal fell in a heap of twisted metal rods and wires on the floor. At the sight of the destruction, the whole crowd fell silent with fear. The big guy in the white jersey stood over the carnage as the other players on the court backed away from him. Some of the wires from the shot clock sparked and started a small fire in the rubble.

That's when I noticed that it wasn't a man in the white uniform, but a beast, THE BEAST, the polar bear I so often see in my dreams. He was wearing typical basketball shorts and a jersey that said, 'End' on the front and the number 100 on the back. He stood, slightly slumped with his massive front paws tensed like he was about to attack someone. No one in the arena moved. No one made a sound. The polar bear reached down and picked up the basketball, gripped it firmly in one paw until it exploded with an atomic bomb-like wave of sound.

As he started toward the tunnel to exit the arena, there was a percussive BOOM in one of the upper decks of seating. I looked over and saw a ball of fire from an explosion, people suddenly running and screaming. That's when I woke up.

Finally...

It seems like it's been forever, but I finally got around to posting a new piece to my music blog, Apollyon. I've learned a little trick from Chopin when it comes to naming pieces...Can't think of a name? Just call it a Prelude. It always seems to fit the piece no matter what it sounds like. : )

I appreciate those of you who follow that blog as well as this one. I consider it a little more personal since I express myself more easily through my music than through words. It takes a while to put the arrangements together, hence the long breaks between postings, but it's always worth it to hear the final product.

Also, many of you may recall a series of happenings in my life that led to the recent publication of a book (I don't know if you'd call it my book, but it is based on certain aspects of my life). I won't go into the complicated series of events that led to its manifestation, but do know that my continued blogging is an extension of the book. You can learn more about it here.

Once again to all my readers and followers............................Happy New Year!

And, as always, guard your thoughts. They are listening...

Tommy. Gates. Lives.

A dream. Christmas eve/morning. My family was staying at my aunt and uncle's house for the holidays.

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I was standing at a check-out register (at the library? grocery store?) At another register across from me, there was another kid. His looks reminded me of a kid I knew back in second grade, Stephen Sweten. The kid had pale, olive-greenish skin, like he was really sick. Someone whose face I couldn't see (the register-operator?) was talking to him, or, at least talking in his direction. His face occasionally changed, from something like a pitiful puppy-dog face to beaming, to puzzled, each change happening in an instant. He reminds me of the kid I knew, Stephen from second grade, in that he seems somewhat of a class clown, making insincere faces and gestures just to get attention. The kid in my dream had pale brown, slightly larger than normal eyes that bulged just a little. His hair was messy, like he'd just gotten out of bed.

What I saw on his right wrist was what really got my attention. It looked like a small cut at first, that seemed to open a bit when he moved his hand and forearm. But when he raised his hand to scratch his head, what looked like a cut on his wrist opened into a mouth, a mouth with crooked brownish teeth and a dry looking tongue. When the mouth opened and began to talk, that's when I woke up.

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It gets even stranger. I woke up from the dream laying awkwardly on my deflating air mattress. The house was filled with darkness. It must have been about 3:30 AM and everything was completely silent. I found myself repeating the name Tommy Gates in my head over and over again. After a few moments I thought, why do I keep repeating this name? Who in the world is Tommy Gates? I don't know anyone, and don't think I ever knew anyone by that name, but it repeated strongly in my head as if it were definitely the name of someone. When I realized that (perhaps) Tommy Gates was the name of the kid in my dream, I got the chills.

A slight pinch below the equator told me I had to go to the restroom. I DID NOT want to get up and walk through the dark to the bathroom, not with some creepy name repeating in my head and after having that dream. My stupid imagination began to wonder if there had been someone who had lived (and died) in the house named Tommy Gates. Maybe the ghost of Tommy Gates (whoever he is/was) was trying to get my attention. Maybe....well, I don't know, but it was enough to freak me out.

Ugh. I'm getting the chills just thinking about it. I'm glad to be home again, that's for sure, hoping that's the last time I have a dream like that.

What do you think? Anyone out there ever had a brush with the supernatural or at least had a coincidence disturbing enough to make you wonder...?