Fondly Remembering An Old Friend

Back in late August, 2001, I had a dream; a dream so colorful, a dream so magnificent, bright and brilliant, a dream so visionary, which at the same time was sad, deep, dark, intense and so troubling like a unintentional premonition forecast that was prematurely cast in stone of what was to come.

The night was hot; hot and sweaty as I lay shirtless in my boxer shorts asleep on my futon, inside the already balmy third floor apartment, 1243 Rosemont Avenue in Chicago. We were all getting ready to part company, my roommates and I, parting on three separate journeys into the outer stratosphere, ready to explore the cosmos that guided our lives.

In this dream, I was in India, guided by an old familiar friend. Even though we hadn't met, not formally, anyway, we connected through the music he created. I had known his music for many years.

He'd been in a popular band for many, many years and like many things, times changed, as he and his bandmates were tired of each other and moved onto bigger and better passions. In later years, when one of his bandmates passed away suddenly, he withdrew from the public eye for nearly a decade and became a gardener, among more important tasks.

When he emerged with a new record, he was met with tremendous accolades, as reviews go, but he took it all in stride and rekindled interest in his music occurred almost immediately. He disregarded what people said usually, as if it were no big deal; it wasn't. Not for him.

A few years later, he toured overseas with an old guitarist friend of his for the first time in 16 years and again was met with high praise, accolades a-plenty, again taking it all in stride. Along the way he produced a few more albums, a handful of films, kept up with the gardening, hung out with old friends, popped up on television & radio talk shows, made a cameo here and there, slowly pressing the flesh once more.

Late in the twentieth century, there was renewed interest in his old band, not that anyone ever lost interest in them really, but three box sets of their music were produced, which included 150 unreleased songs, plus a television film of based on the band's history. It would be the last public appearance of the three remaining band members in the public eye.

In this dream, we visited all of the locations where he had traveled to, where he created and was moved to inspiration to play music and write music, hang-outs with his bandmates, friends and his girlfriend who would become his first wife one year later.

He told me how beautifully gorgeous the time was that he spent there, how he did treasure and would treasure those moments forever. He wore a beautiful orange-colored silken robe. His long brown hair flowed wildly like an untouched mighty river in the early days of a warm spring.

An acoustic guitar with him, he sat down and began strumming a few warm-up notes, before he launched into a new song I had never heard before and told him so. He said that nobody had ever heard them either except for a few close friends, but it would soon be heard by many. He affectionately referred to it as "a warm blues song," he'd been tinkering around with for some years and felt that the time was right to let it be heard.

That tune was beautiful and melodically crafted and so full of powerful energy from a man who had seen the world many times over as a relatively young man.

He then turned to me quietly and candidly said that he'd had such a good life and was ready to pass into the next universe. I felt a cold chill across my face, as I stared ahead blankly. I knew he had been sick earlier in the year, but he had beaten the sickness back, so he all told us.

In a moment's notice we remain happy and content. He remained that way the night I was with him and when we parted. As I awoke, I was covered in sweat, as well as tears that had been streaming down my face for many moments, knowing that my dream was a pre-cursor of a major event to come.

Exactly three months later I received a telephone call from my friend Iris in London, England.

"Did you hear the news," she asked cautiously and slowly. "Yeah," I said glumly, "I heard it three months ago." I didn't tell her about the dream I had, as she filled me in as to what the people of England, his home country was doing to honor his passing.

Rest in good spirits, my friend, rest in good spirits.