This is about another dream I had today in evening (since my sleep cycle is absolutely wrecked and I sleep during the hours when the world wakes) I was in my usual place of great memories, my home in Pandara Road and this time I was playing a song. I started off with singing the first two lines of a Nirvana song (cannot remember which one) and completely went into a different but original melody which was soon joined by someone on the violin. This is one thing that I had actually enjoyed after many many days because I haven’t really done anything after my band dissolved into a pile of corporate plebs. Like anyone in such a situation, I told myself that this was really good so I better write it down or record it or at least play it a couple of times just in case I forget so I proceeded to perform it several times before an audience which seemed to love it and they expressed the same concern about forgetting something so good. While playing it to what seemed like a portable Zoom field recorder I realized that I was in a dream. This is when things started to slip. I wanted to remember this piece and carry it with me to the real word but apart from memories nothing else would leave this place. Even the recorder would not come through. If there was only a way to be sure of storing it in my memory without any loss or alteration. This song was truly a good one and at least it was one thing that would get me to the point of getting up and recording it in its entirety. So as the dream collapsed and I stood there in my old bedroom repeating the tune loudly to myself so that it would stay with me. I came back and woke up in a house which was absolutely dark, beautifully silent but could not stop the voices of the children playing outside after the sun had set. My mother was out somewhere and my dog was not barking like a maniac, which is rare. A silent bubble like my head, this home, consumed most of its inhabitants directly or indirectly while the world played outside. I tried to recall the song and it was not there, not even a trace, not even the slightest hint of the melody it started with. The sounds were silenced as I entered this bubble of reality, or did the dream silence the sound itself? It didn’t surprise me as I have become used to these but it did really hurt me because I had not been inspired like this in a very long time and I do not know how long, if ever, will I have to wait for the next beam of inspiration to come through.