Written, 1-22-18
Inside a master drawer, behind a change basket, promotional sunglasses, and revealing bling pins lies a neglected iPod Shuffle. After weeks and weeks of denial that a new year and new invigorated exercise needs to be addressed, someone pulls out the tiny music library and charging cord. It’s plugged in to a nearby outlet. Nothing.
There is a comically long wait before any sign of life registers, but then a charging light illuminates.
The next day I take this music library to the gym with me. Cycling through different artist’s music I come to a cold stop as I realize I’ve entered a George Michael Play List.
George Michael (June 25, 1963 – December 25, 2016)
It’s been over a year already. While cycling, I close my eyes and press Play.
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The beat and energy surrounds us on all sides. The dance floor seems to be massive. Everyone is out there on the dance floor moving to George Michael’s seductive voice.
Friends, family, lovers, heroes, villains, artists, movie stars, famous scientists and politicians. Writers, photographers, athletes, even medical personnel are there too.
If you turn around while dancing a certain portion of the other dancers nearby seem to change their age. Some get older, others get younger. Everyone keeps on dancing. The crowd on the dance floor moves like a flock of starling birds. It darts one way, then another way quickly without any smashed toes or lost shoes.
The faces are all smiles, laughter, or funny poses. Our bodies are glistening, tan and healthy. Our outfits colorful and flowing. The walls are a series of movie screens with overlapping movies playing major motion pictures, concert shows, or family videos.
After a while, I leave the high volume upbeat music dance floor to explore.
I go outside. Outside there are a series of terraces with neon lighting above food and drink stations among the gardens. The slight breeze feels great, and I soon realize that we’re on a hillside overlooking the Mediterranean.
On the various levels of the terraces, there are other huge rooms and other huge dance floors with different seductive music playing. Some of it is fast and dangerous. Some of it is slow and thoughtful.
Later that night, I saw George Michael outside on one of the terraces.
He saw me and smiled, then I woke up.
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Over 10 years ago now, I had the dream mentioned above about visiting George Michael’s imagined house. I imagined it was a charming spacious split-level villa overlooking the Mediterranean.
I willingly go back there again and again whenever I play his music.
Cache of Communiqués 