Gimlé

You know when a single tune sticks in your brain?

How, over a few minutes, hours or days even, the same song keeps echoing through your mind.

Have you ever thought how, maybe, just maybe, the span of days during which the tune intrudes, encrouches, crawls all over your brain is really an illusion?

That the five minute duration of the song is reality, and the tune’s whispers in your mind is reality trying to regain control, wrest you from the intricate fantasy world your diseased mind has created and is playing out in hyperspeed, frantically trying to outrun the hard grey mundane.

Like that moment, just after you jump, when you think that you might, you just might, be able to fly.

But ground hits you, and you fall back into life.

With the tune still there, whispering sad things into your minds’ ear.

Those days were real after all.

I’ve had Tom Waits rattling in my brain for three days.

Three days I sometimes wish were only a fantasy played before my minds’ eye.

And the earth died screaming
While I dreaming
Well, the earth died screaming
While I dreaming
Dreaming of you.

There was thunder
there was lightning
And the stars went out

Earth Died Screaming—Tom Waits