This song I wrote this morning and recorded, with harmony, on my computer. Nothing too deep about this one, just a fun little song.

The words just came with it, particularly the chorus. It came to me first thing in the morning after I woke up.

07. December 2013 · 1 comment · Categories: Dreams, Music, Piano · Tags: ,

This is a song for piano that I have been working on on and off for the last few months. It is called “In My Dreams”, and the main part of the song actually came to me in a dream a month or so ago. I wrote the other parts to go along with it.

There is a some computer fan noise in the second half; I tried to filter it out with Audacity but it only filtered it out of the silent parts, so it sounds like there is something strange just with the piano. I may make a cleaner version of this later, but I wanted to share what I had now.

I wrote the last part of it last night in the car on my way home from a restaurant.

Hope you enjoy it!

I have released an album of Wanderlest Covermy original cello music. You can find it on iTunes, Amazon, Google Play, and various other places on the web, including the CDBaby website, which I will give below.

The name of the album is Wanderlest. My artist name is Lisa Anne Kelly. That should help you find it wherever you decide to get it from. Also, I have about 80 copies that I am selling myself, so if you want one with an autograph and special message, contact me using the form on the “About” page. They are just sitting in my basement right now, and I’d rather have them out to people, so you can get one for just $5 plus shipping.

Here is a link to where you can buy it on CDBaby. It is available both to download and as a disc on CDBaby.

You can also order it from Amazon.

Or iTunes.

Or Google Play.

Recorded this today after it was rattling around in me for a couple of days. Did two tracks with harmony. Lyrics below if you can’t decipher.

And if you don’t like the extra reverb, here’s a drier version:


Dark, the hour is long, I’m feeling tired,

Lost is any light to guide my way.

Wearily I search for other answers,

Even one that says it is ok.


Hardly noticing the noise around me,

Deep in thought there is no place to stay.

Though they say that life is just a journey,

I’ll be wrong no matter what I say.


And now she tells me that we will have fun again.

At least until we make it to the other end.

And now she tells me that we will have fun again.

At least until we make it to the other end.


I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.


Recklessly alone without a purpose,

Reaching out for anything to hold.

Silent is the voice that brought me guidance,

One day I’ll be young before I’m old.


Longer than the day that came before this,

Always knew that I would be alone.

Cannot even reach the nearest sign post,

Feels like I’m turning into stone.


And now she tells me that we will have fun again.

At least until we make it to the other end.

And now she tells me that we will have fun again.

At least until we make it to the other end.

I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

(I wrote this last Spring, recently rediscovered it in an old journal. I don’t even remember writing it.)

Sometimes, it is like my thoughts are billiard balls. All spread out on a table. They rattle against each other and knock off the walls. I never know where they are going, or which one I should follow. Every time I turn my head, I can feel them rattling, clanking, colliding. Sometimes, it seems like one is going somewhere, on a journey, able to escape the chaotic cacophony.

I think the cacophony may be the source of their memories. And energy. (Are memories energy?) For when a thought escapes and begins down a path, I feel it fading nearly immediately. Sometimes I let it go. It runs itself dry, and vanishes, leaving only a misty spray in its place. A vapor.

More often I cannot stand the thought of losing it. I gently push it back into the cacophony. It seems to be restored temporarily.

Sometimes, I wonder, if I shake my head hard enough, I can get a thought energetic enough to travel forever. Or even just a bit longer than the rest. But no matter how hard I shake, they do what they want.

Sometimes there is one that I wish I could free. One that I would give anything to see go on its path. But even this wishing saps it of energy. It fades far too fast for me to do anything.

I wonder, sometimes, what would happen if they stopped moving. Can they stop? Is it their motion that gives them substance?

It seems like utter chaos in there; usually I discern no pattern. It seems to be a rock tumbler. But without the tumble. They move their own ways.

Yet somehow, ten years later, as I try and trace back the way I came to be where I am, I put an order to the chaos. Does it even make any sense? Is it my imagination putting the randomness to a pattern?

Though it doesn’t always feel random. Sometimes there are lines instead of balls. The lines are easier to follow. I feel them everywhere I go, everything that happens let them shift into another way. Some times they bend. They rarely cross in my view. Perhaps they are ashamed, embarrassed to have approached another, so stay away from my sight. I can rarely discern anything from their patterns.

But sometimes, they scream within my mind. Their force shakes me, and I can see nothing else within.

Have you ever woken up screaming in your sleep? It is a shattering feeling. You are distraught, panicked, terrified, horrified, but have no idea why.

When I was little, I believed that if I screamed loud enough, I could stop the world. Literally. Everything would just freeze. All the noise, all the chaos, all the motion. I imagined this happening, yet I could never see myself in these day dreams. Like the effort it took to stop the world would somehow drain me of my existence. I never thought about this when I was young. I do now.

I never tried it. It was just my hidden card, my last resort, my secret weapon. The thought of using it was both comforting and frightening. Comforting, as I knew it was there if I needed it, and nothing in the world could stop me from using it. Frightening, as I feared if I ever used it, I would not be able to start the world back up again. Or what would become of me.

Perhaps I’d have found myself waking up, screaming, one level higher, shaking with fear and bewildered as to what it was that scared me so. Perhaps not.

I once had a dream about a mirror. I looked into it, and I saw someone who was not me. She looked like me, in a way, but I knew far too clearly she wasn’t me. I had a feeling that she had made everything possible here. She looked so happy and certain. She told me her name, but when I awoke, it was gone. I felt a great sense of peace.

The balls roll on, echoing within my hollow mind. Will they ever coalesce into clarity? Or have they done so already but did I forget it so that the next time they formed, it would be just as sweet, just as miraculous. An island in the ocean of my mind.

Sometimes, it scares me the places my thoughts wander off to.

Sometimes, I wonder if there is anyone left who thinks about these things as much as I do. Sometimes I wonder if I am completely out of my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.