Other People’s Dreams

I place my beer bottle on the CD case.
The CD is by one of my favourite bands.
I recall some of the songs.
I wonder at what inspired the tracks.
What provoked the writer?
What life experience twisted and abstracted those words?
An album full of someone else’s thoughts and dreams?

I look about the room that I am in.
CD’s and their cases are strewn across the coffee table.
Some of them have fallen onto the floor.

I look at my half full bottle of beer,
It has left a ring, a stain on the CD case.
Its shape cuts through the song titles on the reverse of the case.

I’m using the case as a coaster for my drink!
I’m using one person’s life and music as a f***king coaster.

I see all of those CD’s.
I see all of those lives that have made those songs.
I look at the small sculptures that sit on the mantle.
I see the paintings and prints on the wall.
I’m struck by the notion that I am surrounded by the dreams of others!
I look at the beer bottle on the CD case.
I see the life of the Graphic Artist,
That dreamt the design of the bottles label.
I see his proud parents, I see him drawing into the late hours.

We are inundated with the dreams of others all day long.
We walk on them,
Carelessly,
Like walking on shells on a beach.
We feed from them.
We collect them.
We store them, sometimes alphabetically,
Ready to match the mood we feel.
A track for every one of our fears or anxieties.
That reflect our happiness,
Or our despair.

I start to tidy the CD’s.
Carefully matching each disc to its case.