Every Night I go Wandering

The second U2 album I ever purchased was Zooropa. I loved The Joshua Tree. With or Without You was a favorite song with I was 10. Which is probably some weird sort of foreshadowing for my romantic life but I digress. Zooropa. Overall the album isn't a favorite. Numb is ok. Sticks with you. But it doesn't have the power or haunting lyricism of The Joshua Tree. Zooropa was the beginning of my odd love/hate with U2.

Anyway. The very last track of the record is The Wanderer which features Johnny Cash. In the mid 1990s, I had very little familiarity with Cash. In fact I believe I only knew him for A Boy Named Sue. However, this strange soulful voice over early 90s techno beats has always stuck with me. It's easily the most played track on the CD and honestly is probably the only reason I even remember the album. Bono wrote the song with Cash in mind as the vocalist and it couldn't have been sung by anyone else.

Each night, I wander into dreams. Sometimes I wander into wonderful possibilities and hopes. Often I wander into a dark and terrifying nightmare that startles me out of my slumber. I've gotten quite good at knowing when the dark is coming, when I should wake myself up. It's an odd feeling. Like pulling myself out of water.

Many nights my dreams have a searching or looking theme. Something I have to find. Someone to discover. Something to fix. And many of those nights I can't find it. I discover failure. I can't fix.

So I awake. In a cold sweat. The dream still clinging to me. And sometimes part of me gets stuck back there, on the other side and I feel oddly incomplete. Tonight I awoke and that clammy awful feeling was there. But so was Johnny. And his wandering.

The haunting melody. The painful yet hopeful voice repeating in my head. A song I haven't heard in years. Spontaneously in my head. As comfort.

Yeah, I left with nothing. Nothing but the thought of you. I went wandering.

Thanks music. You're ok.