Last night, somewhere in between answering the call of Nature for both my self and an incontinent, geriatric beagle, I had a dream. In it, I was backstage at a concert, where a new song was being sung on stage for the first time. The singer was Irish legend, Christy Moore ( “Christy” is a nickname for Christopher. Ahh, sweet subconscious… ). Only it wasn’t really him singing, at least it wasn’t his voice.

As the dream me stood in the wings listening, I thought to myself, “This is great!” and I was jotting down the lyrics as fast as they were sung so I’d remember them. I’d never heard it before.

Because it’d never been written.

In that fog between sleep and awake, I told myself to remember it, lyrics and melody. Hang on to it, don’t let it go.

And I lost it.

Almost immediately the lyrics escaped me. Trust me, I tried all morning to remember them, piece them together. But the more I tried, the more I lost them. In doing so, the melody soon joined the words and as of now it’s all has become but a vague memory.

I’ve mentioned in the past that some of what I consider to be my best writing comes to me on its own; it writes itself. A visit from a muse, some key strokes, and serendipity.

Well, serendipity let me down this time. All I can do is hope it comes to me again in my sleep or after blunt trauma to the head. Preferably the former.

In the 1999 movie “Dogma”, Salma Hayek portrays “Serendipity”, one of the muses who just happens to be working in a strip club. ( If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. Unless you’re religious, especially a devout Catholic, in which case, eh… maybe you shouldn’t. )

At any rate, a guy could do worse than have a dream visit from Salma Hayek, but honestly, right now I’d like the real Serendipity to make another pass here some evening soon. I’d like to recapture that beautiful song to share with the world.

Unless of course it was meant only for me, one night only. In which case, Salma can swing by if she’s not busy.