In a distant dream of wealth and danger, shines courage against a threatening stranger. -City to City Mike Jackson December 1984

Those opening lyrics are from a song I wrote in December of 1984 after waking from a dream. In abstract melodic celluloid, forever preserved, the twilight mystery endures at least throughout my travels.

Closing great distances, pushing limits, and making moves that during the daylight our spirit is too broken to even think of trying.  This contrasts with losing ground in some of the most secure parts of life.  As great effort is spent making a move that would otherwise never happen, I suddenly get a momentary glimpse of life in the parallel universe and ask myself how I could ever have gotten here?

I was there, that was me and I can feel it just as well as if it happened in this reality.  Those stories of alternate timelines, do not always make sense in logic, but they tell a story anyway.

There are mornings in which waking comes with a reset, a gift too great to ever repay.  The gravity of the journey just made is so dense, that I fear walking too close to the edge. Sometimes residual echos resonate throughout the day, making it so you cannot move away from the edge, even in the sunlight, even with family and friends, even though you walk around Lake Compounce, the place where you spent a lot of your childhood.

Most of the time, the fog clears from the lens in the daylight and it almost seems like it never existed.  Yoko aptly affirms in the latter verse of “Who Has Seen the Wind” that it did happen after all. Interestingly, Yoko describes the song as having “a sense of ‘quiet desperation.” That does always seem to be present, no matter the theme.

In a future land of infinite knowledge, what can we possibly know? For now?  As stated in City to City: “No one seems to know who I am, where I go”, not even me.