Here is the song.

Have you ever dreamt of a song where the melody was so inspired, so genius, that you know it couldn’t have come from you, it was a serendipitous gift, like a massive rose growing in you garden that you didn’t plant. It’s happened to me once or twice. Sometimes I have been sharp enough to grab my phone in a half-awake haze and record what I thought at the time was a stellar attempt to recreate the harmony and bass and lyrics (all at the same time), which then reveals itself to be a incohate rendition when I fully awaken and playback the recording.

I write all of that to say, that this song is like a dream. This song is not from the conscious imagination. It is from somewhere else, its from the ‘night’, which has always served as a universal metaphor for the subconscious. The guitar inflexions aren’t normal. Even the irregular rhythm of the vocals. Its almost as if the ghostly whooo-wah-ah-ah’s is King’s subconcious reminder to us to say that ‘this is a dream’. The whole arrangement is a gift that presents to us its subject; the spectacle of an artist enraptured in his craft, and in that dream-like way, suspended in time. Because the very experience of being involved in the meaningful creation of art, and the flow that is required to achieve this, requires full engagement with the subconscious.

Then you realise that the mysterious guitar is supposed to represent the guitarist in the song…

Which raises a compelling idea; perhaps it’s not just that reality has an effect on dreams, perhaps dreams have an effect on reality. Therefore your confusing, preposterous, impossible yet strangely beautiful dream can change the course of human history. Or in other words, you have a profound responsibility to dream. And this song is living audial proof.

Stand-out line: ‘When he closes his eyes he’s in love, what a wonderful thing to dream of’