LAST NIGHT I DREAMT SOMEBODY LOVED ME by THE SMITHS. Story by Samantha Straw.

 

Near Moe, Australia,  2022

A creation of a blade

Of notes plucked from the air

Stabbing through a chest striking the soul inside

And tumbling from the soul, a parasite

Heavy, of self-distain; despair; anguish; fear

Lyrics form fingers

Warm; harsh; familiar as a twin

Unknot the parasite; hold it apart

Without its weight

The soul expands

Yet tears still gather, skin still tingles

The song concludes

The parasite, forms again, crawls inside the soul

Until the song is played again

 

I was forced to turn to the left, away from the potential notice of my mother – driving me to Melbourne for yet another hospital visit. Outside of the window, behind a line of gum trees, rolling hills of farmland passed by in a watery blur. Over top of this blurred reality, I could see the animated memories of over-analyzed embarrassments and plentiful anxieties that had plagued me; animated by the song. The instruments strung my heavy thoughts forward. My heart beat faster and their melody affected me in a way no song ever had. I was somehow out of breath as if my heart had expanded in sorrow and joy, crushing my lungs.

The memories seemed not to be embarrassing or tragic though, instead I became an onlooker, watching in fascination rather than being an unwitting participant in a prison of memories, as was customary. Every lyric held me up, embracing me in a warmth of comfort from an understanding of thoughts and feelings never voiced. Still tears formed, even as a spectator. My breathing was short, and my body tingled with every emotion under the sun. Perhaps this formed from the wonder I felt at a song, both lyrically and instrumentally, harmonizing in a great understanding of my inner turmoil. Perhaps it was something else. These intensities dwindled as the melody replayed softer and softer in my head, long after the song had concluded. When they finally dissipated, and I had re-caught my breath, there seemed to be a soullessness in the music played for the rest of the trip.

Each time I listen to this song, the effects of my first encounter occur again and again, in an act of raw and unfiltered outpourings of my soul’s impurities –to be cleansed and healed, if only for a short time. How could anything amount to this song? It binds the three planes of reality – of God’s plane, of Satan’s, and of Humanity’s – together, standing above heaven and below hell. In pain and glory and freedom. A thing to be worshipped. A song never skipped. A cold and sharp blade caressing my face.

 

Stereo Story #749