Daily Loaf

Routes Music is a documentary film acting as a roving music census, taking in the true musical passions (and disgusts) of the American people. We’re traveling all across the country, stopping along the way to interview local bands, take footage of live performances and chat with anyone and everyone. Learn more about the documentary here; check out all previous entries here.

It’s 8 p.m. and Phil is driving through a torrential rainstorm in an abandoned part of New Orleans’ West End. He’s running his hand through his hair, bent over the steering wheel, trying to find Magellan Road. The GPS isn’t working and every street seems to lead back to the interstate we just exited. A tiny brown Chihuahua looks lost, too, as it darts across the road and between two houses.

It’s enough rain to make a New Orleans native nervous.

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Routes Music is a documentary film acting as a roving music census, taking in the true musical passions (and disgusts) of the American people. We’re traveling all across the country, stopping along the way to interview local bands, take footage of live performances and chat with anyone and everyone. Learn more about the documentary here; check out all previous entries here.

“Where eeez yer pipe?”

A 6’4 security guard towered over me, glaring.

“Where eeez yer pipe?” he repeated in a thick Islands accent.

“What?” I replied, not sure he really just asked me what I think he just asked me.

“Where eeez yer pipe?” he asked again.

“My what?” I said again, still shocked.

“Yer pipe. Yer pipe.”

Now he was aggravated. I’m enjoying feigning ignorance.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, man.”

The guard switches tactics.

“Drugs?”

I smile.

“No, no drugs.”

“OK, go ahead.”

So began my very first experience at an extended-day music festival, and only my second time ever seeing the seminal jam band, Phish. Luckily, the rest of the three-day fest at the Empire Polo Grounds in Indio, Calif. went smoother than my entry.

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“Hi Dream Momma, This is my dream: It was night and I was crossing the street away from where I live to the other side. As I was crossing a man started yelling that I was about to be hit by a car. I looked and could see cars in the distance but didn’t feel they were close to me. But this man kept yelling that I was just about to be hit so I ran across the street. I was walking to a building across from where I live ( he seemed to be near where I live though I never saw him) and he started yelling that someone was chasing me so I started walking faster. He kept yelling “he’s getting closer.” So I was frantically trying to get my keys into the door I was going into. I finally did and the door turned into a swinging door that didn’t need a key. I decided to try and get to my building and avoid this man by going around the back. I was walking down the street and kept seeing people I knew but their backs were to me. Then I startled a cat that ran out from under a bush. Then I woke up.”

The key to this dream is in the first sentence.  As the clever image portrays, danger is everywhere. That belief is what appears in your unconscious (probably from an overprotective father) when you “cross the street” and “go away from where” you live.  According to the dream there is no safe place other than home; it’s not even safe to cross the street. In this case home is also metaphoric, i.e. the house in your head, i.e. believing what your parents did. I also think that the man chasing you is a metaphor for fear. Unconscious fear haunts you making it impossible to be truly free to make your own decisions and take your own risks. Read on. Read the rest of this entry »