I woke myself up singing, Ain’t No Sunshine at five this morning. I’d been dreaming about planning a farewell party for a co-worker who was moving on to bigger and better things. A few of my office mates had made signs and party favors. Others had baked cookies and cakes. I was in charge of entertainment. As the time for the festivities approached I still had no idea what form that entertainment was going to take.
But then, like a scene from an old Elvis Presley movie where folks would urge this good looking random stranger in the crowd to get up and sing, and he’d do his “aw shucks no” routine all the while rising with guitar in hand to take the stage and make girls swoon, I stood in my dream and belted out Ain’t No Sunshine.
I even changed up the lyrics a bit to fit the occasion. Instead of the repetition of, “I know, I know, I know…” I sang, “She glows, she glows, she glows….” And in lieu of the vaguely inappropriate line that follows: “I oughta leave the young thing alone, but ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,” I sang, “She’s a star wherever she goes, but ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”
All this in my sleep. Other stuff went on in this epic dream. Most notably I made out with a stranger, who I strongly suspect was Studly Doright in disguise because he kissed exactly like Studly. He’s my sunshine.
For your listening pleasure, the great Bill Withers (following a brief, yet annoying advertisement.)