Branching off my post earlier, I started thinking about the little daydreams that go through my mind on a regular basis. I wonder if I’m alone. I have them mostly while driving, but they pretty much take place anywhere. I’m usually a natural rock star in my mind. My Red Hot Chili Pepper tattoos give me the false hope to continue dreaming about it maybe.
Music can be infectious; it seeps into the soul if you’re lucky enough to feel it. There are people who like music and there are people who live music and can let it stir parts of us that typically doesn’t get woken. I’ve always envied anyone who can get up on a stage and just play. Hell, I’d be proud of myself for strumming a tune for my husband without faltering over the strings due to nerves. The idea of letting loose with a bunch of friends while creating sound sounds so simple and so appealing.
I’ve often dreamed of becoming a closet musician, secretly plugging away at my musician skills like a mad scientist. Most of the time it’s guitar based, but depending on what I’m listening to, it can be piano, bass, drums, violin or even banjo. The idea of being consumed by talent and fearlessly showcasing my inner spirit is fascinating. My dreams usually take place in a small dive bar or club, and there are a few friends around but mostly strangers, and I join a band on stage, letting Mae out, without fear and without faltering. It’s exhilarating.
The more time that passes and the more that responsibility rips Mae out of me, the more I daydream about things like this. I think maybe it reflects my distaste for the mundane and typical personality I represent, as opposed to the fun and outgoing character I was. I realize we need to grow up and go through stages, but maybe it’s not so bad to jump back into the mosh pit now and then. Don’t worry; I’ll leave my leather pants in the attic.