It’s been a heavy week for dreams. Four of my friends offered me unsolicited recountings of their dreams this week. There were stark images in all of them. A private detective carrying photographs of the other woman, a claustrophobic tunnel between houses, a child’s bike, a new lover with dark curly hair, a cheating husband, vomiting up pink grapefruit juice — you name it, this week I heard about it or dreamt it myself. At a rehearsal yesterday Jesy told me about waking from a dream, and finding herself still kissing the sheets, which sounded like a very familiar feeling. I asked if I could steal the image and write a song with it. She agreed. I combined that feeling with a statement on the back of my Lake Michigan Credit Union envelope, where they promise all their customers that they’ll Call You By Name. I am so lonely at night sometimes, and in the early morning, when it’s just me and the pillows, I call out my lovers’ names even though they’re no longer really mine.
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I wake up kissing sheets
Pillow lines all over me
I can taste you in my dreams
Salty Sweet
(I’ve been calling you by name)
I wake up kissing sheets
Pillow lines all over me
There’s nothing
You’re blowing in the wind
Salty Sweet
(I’ve been calling you by name)
