We marched strong, holding the hands of defeated enemies high above our heads.
The pain of fatigue tried to dull all my senses while the flowing adrenaline battled to sharpen them. My body felt numb in the crossfire.
The streets were paved with people screaming in joy at our victory. My eyes were overwhelmed with the colliding colors of yellow, gold, and white, while my ears attuned to songs and celebrations.
My enemy was dressed in blue, but still he walked with us.
I sang operatic songs of joy that involved words like figaro (An Itaian name) and vincero (Italian for victory). I could feel my mouth shaping around the words and allowing a powerful sound to emit.
Far off in the distance, at the back of the colosseum, I heard a piano playing. It was meticulous Eoin and sincere Pete (Two old friends of mine who were brilliant musicians). I began matching the pitch Pete played on the instrument, and this evolved into a song.
I understood in my heart that music is made truly in the mind, and that the body is merely a tool that one must master to unleash the mind.
17 – December – 2014
I am an intense dreamer and have always found them interesting. I spent a lot of time studying Carl Jung to understand his theory of what dreams mean. Jung suggested documenting your dreams and analyzing them over the course of a few years. This is an old dream of mine from when I was intensely pursuing “mastery” in music.
I feel that the images and emotions display the feeling of improvement and attainment that all aspiring masters are seeking. Judging by all the Italian words and architecture I must have been in Rome.