These Dreams: James, Carly, & Me

Do you remember your dreams? I’ve kept a dream journal for decades, on and off. I once took a series of writing workshops with Robert Moss in Wisconsin, in a magical space of time where internet friends came to life and freelancing filled me with hope, when I realized I was on to something bigger than myself with the whole act of noting my nocturnal wanderings.

(If you don’t know Robert Moss, here’s a brief bio and his blog. His books are exquisite and spiritually transformational. Conscious Dreaming is my favorite.)

Often my dreams are lucid, meaning so real that I am in my dreams as a participant. I have dreamt of things that have happened in the real world, sometimes the next day, sometimes a year or two down the road. I am infinitely fascinated discussing dreams and will do so with anyone willing to broach the topic.

Last night was an almost-lucid but mostly mundane dream. There were several disjointed parts but the last segment is what’s replaying in my head right now. I was at a graduation of someone I didn’t know, but who was a friend of my late brother. We were in those hard, wooden folding chairs on a lawn facing a stage set up for graduation. James Taylor was playing on stage for the graduation, and when I took a moment to look around the crowd, I realized I was sitting next to Carly Simon.

(ICYMI, they were married in the 70s and divorced in the early 80s. James Taylor is a musical thread that runs through my life. Ask me anything…lol)

I thought it was fascinating that I was next to her, and that she was here to see James. Their relationship is not a good one in real life, and the fact that I realized it in the dream is what made it slightly lucid.

As though we were friends, I leaned over to her and whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here watching him”, meaning James.

“I suppose you want me to sing with him,” she replied.

“No,” I responded, but in my mind I secretly hoped she’d introduce me to them though I knew they weren’t friends. (Even in dreams, a girl can hope.)

We had a very nice conversation. About what, I don’t remember. But it left me feeling contented.

After the ceremony, James came to see Carly. She introduced us. I hid my fan girl self, and the three of us had a lovely discussion about what, it doesn’t matter. I was having a conversation like a normal person with James Taylor. I do remember thanking him for writing music that has gotten me through some of the most difficult and heartbreaking periods of my life, and he was so surprised that I didn’t want anything he offered to give me his autograph. I didn’t have anything to sign, so I let him sign the inside of my arm, and immediately wondered how to save it so I could have a tattoo artist make it permanent.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

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And now I must go about my day with no autograph tattoo and the bittersweet idea that somehow, he got my message of gratitude. I suppose I should thank Carly, though, for arranging it all.

Looks like today will be a James Taylor music only kind of day. Here’s one of my all-time favorites.