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“Last Night I Dreamed That I Was Dreaming of You” is a self-portrait from a moment when I felt genuinely light. I was walking alone through New York at night, looking up at the buildings as their windows lit the streets like constellations. I had Tom Waits in my ears — his voice, his poetry — and for once my head was quiet. I wasn’t thinking about what came next, or what had gone before. I was just there.
That night, I felt excited in a simple way. Not restless, not searching — just happy to be alive. Moving through the city, anonymous, free, open to whatever the night wanted to offer. There was no weight on my chest, no urgency to prove anything. Just curiosity, rhythm, and a deep sense of gratitude.
“Last Night I Dreamed That I Was Dreaming of You” is a self-portrait from a moment when I felt genuinely light. I was walking alone through New York at night, looking up at the buildings as their windows lit the streets like constellations. I had Tom Waits in my ears — his voice, his poetry — and for once my head was quiet. I wasn’t thinking about what came next, or what had gone before. I was just there.
That night, I felt excited in a simple way. Not restless, not searching — just happy to be alive. Moving through the city, anonymous, free, open to whatever the night wanted to offer. There was no weight on my chest, no urgency to prove anything. Just curiosity, rhythm, and a deep sense of gratitude.