THE VISITOR

The Visitor is yet another piece that reflects some aspect of my family. Two years ago, I wrote a piece called The Workbench, which was a sonic portrait of my dad, Paul. It used samples of his voicemails alongside a video of his workbench.

This time, the music is loosely related to my mom, Marilyn, and is purely an instrumental project. A few weeks before she died last summer from Parkinson’s-related dementia, I had a strange dream. What I remember of it is this: constant and overwhelming waves of tingling flowing up and down from my head, spine, arms, back, and legs. My body and nervous system felt chaotic. Even though I was still sleeping, I found myself crying uncontrollably, but I did not feel sad. The words, “take care of yourself, take care,” kept moving through my mind, as if they were being whispered to me. The experience was both terrifying and pleasurable. It seemed to last for a very long time, but in reality it may have only been a few moments or minutes.