Yet Untitled 029 - Ostriches and Annie Lennox
A playful study of a vague dream
I had another one of those bizarre dreams (remember Pointy Hegde the exploding hedgehog of YU 012?) where I was super aware of its bizarreness during the dream and didn't want to lose it to oblivion on waking. So, half asleep, I texted the words “Ostriches and Annie Lennox” to my wife at 6am in the hope they might help me remember. Of course, when I woke up, all I had to show for the dream was that cryptic text to Vani, who looked at me funny for the rest of the day.
What also remained was a feeling of being “full” - as if I had been impregnated by the dream that I could now feel pushing against the inside of my belly. Yet Untitled 029 became, thus, a midwife of sorts. I thought deeply about Ostriches and Annie Lennox through the day, trying to grasp at the profundity I knew I had felt in the dream. But it was like trying to grasp at smoke.
The closest I’ve come to an ostrich is coming close to an animal that looks vaguely like one - an Emu, in Australia. Annie Lennox - well, I spent many years listening to her in my early 20s. I owned a CD of her album Diva, and remember listening to her music at times when a lot else was solidifying inside me. Annie Lennox infused into that cement and…stayed, I guess.
Why am I writing about Annie Lennox?
For one, she’s worth writing about. Just read the first paragraph of her Wikipedia Bio. The other thing: I want to be as cool as Annie Lennox at 64, when she recorded this BBC session in 2018:
Man, what grace! What coolness! She’s not trying to be younger, but she’s owning that stage as completely as David Lee Roth in his 20s. She singing all her old songs, but nothing feels tired, least of all herself. She’s re-interpreting them, trying new things, having fun, feeling lucky to be there with a great backup band and a fine orchestra.
There’s a man sitting in the front row - you can see him in one of the audience shots during ‘Little Bird’ where he’s mouthing all the words. I know all the words. Lennox is eminently singable! Anyone can sing “Little Bird” and feel like a diva in the shower. What I love is how measured her words feel - how easily they arrange themselves along the accessible melodies of her songs. To me, she’s like Christoph Neimann when he’s left in a room with lego bricks - they both build something clear and powerful from the most basic ingredients.
In my book - this is the real cheese: readable writing, singable songs, watchable films.
Annie Lennox - you are welcome in my dreams anytime. I will charge you no rent. Just bless me to become some version of you at 64. Perhaps that’s what you were doing when you visited me in my dream.
Ethan Hawke should’ve been there!
Ethan Hawke didn’t visit in my dream. But I wish he did, or will in the future. Perhaps the ostrich beat him to it and bagged his seat.
Hawke’s 51 right now. Is it too much to wish to be him at 51? I’ll definitely experiment with that cut of beard at some point. And I’m in total agreement with this thoughts in creativity in this TED talk:
My favourite bit:
…the thing that worries me sometimes whenever you talk about creativity, because it can have this kind of feel that it's just nice, you know, it's warm or it's something pleasant. It's not, it's vital. It's the way we heal each other in singing our song and telling our story and inviting you to say, hey, listen to me and I'll listen to you. We're starting a dialogue, you know. And when you do that, this healing happens and we come out of our corners and we start to witness each other's common humanity. We start to assert it. And when we do that, really good things happen. So if you want to help your community, if you want to help your family, if you want to help your friends, you have to express yourself and to express yourself, you have to know yourself.
Deep agreement.
Are good dreams affirmations of deep agreement?
I’d call a dream where I’m agreeing with Ethan Hawke a good dream.
“Interception of One Man’s Nightmare by a Cat”
I drew this in 2008 after experiencing a trippy dream:
In that dream, I saw these huge lifelike statues while walking on the edge of a field. It left me filled with and awe that I remembered when I woke.
I tried to imagine what the scene would have looked liked like had I actually been standing and looking at those behemoths. But who could have been watching such a Kubla Khan-esq scene, other than the seer of weird dreams that is Vasant.
A cat of course. Who else?
An Ostrich wouldn’t have cut it.
What’s Ba dreaming of?
Ba - one of my last surviving grand-aunts. Today’s her 97th birthday.
She’s the kind of person who would have enjoyed her birthday celebrations with grace and joy if she could, but dementia prevents her from expressing joy. And none of can tell what she’s experiencing.
When I visited her last week, she stared at me with vacant eyes. The only response to my presence was her tapping the armrest of her chait with her right hand, as if she was trying to piece things together and they just weren't fitting.
Happy Birthday, Ba. I will not forget your gentleness, your encouragement and your unconditional love. You enjoyed giving your love all your life - I’m so grateful to have received it. I wish I could visit you in your dreams where you don’t need to tap your armrest anymore, and you eyes give way to the same smile that always came when they saw me.
It isn’t just a wish, but a prayer. So I’ll be seeing you soon.
Dearest Yet Untitler,
Thank you of helping me not be an Ostrich!
There’s so much I’ve wanted to share with the world, but I’ve been reluctant. In another universe, I might have put some version of this newsletter (or fragments of it) out on non-newsletter social media, but I feel that would have been a disservice. Putting these thoughts before your eyes cocooned inside these essays is something else altogether. It feels whole. It feels right.
Deep love. My niece Tara is laughing because she had a teacher called Luvdeep who she calls Deep Love.
Six is the number of times the word “deep” appears in this newsletter.
Thank you for your time.
V
P.S: I still have no frikkin’ clue why I dreamed of that ostrich.
In what ways have you used your dreams? In what way have you used thinking about your dreams?
Tell me.
I want to know!
I read the opening and immediately started singing, "sweet dreams of made of this" followed shortly by saying what was that bird song (which you were kind enough to then reference). I did laugh that you texted it to your wife. I've been known to jot a note or record a quick voice memo (which are sometimes laughably illegible) or email myself - I'm somewhat grateful I've never texted it to anyone.
I've worked with dreams for a very long time now. I feel very fortunate when something is communicated to me in a dream. I've learned to hold them loosely and not try too hard to attribute meaning because I find often the meanings will show up and evolve over time. And sometimes maybe it's just the universe reminding me I'm not alone.
Love the Ethan Hawke quote. Creativity is vital. And I feel like I have a special place in my heart for Pointy Hedge. He would make a fantastic character for a children's book