Keeping Track of History Pt. 4: Dream Catcher

Keeping Track of History Pt. 4: Dream Catcher

It isn't often that I get lost in a piece of music, but today it happened again and it was hauntingly beautiful.

The rain was cluttered at my window, pawing at the pain of glass; as if my cat was begging to get in, a soft gray mood waited patiently as I was illuminated by my computer. It was a typical friday afternoon, plenty of energy and nothing to do. As I scrolled through the series of pages I typically explored for new music I saw the image of Charlie Chaplin, all in black and white with the caption, "Material Of My Own." I clicked the white play icon and as Zacho Fraser crooned I was reminded of this story from my childhood.  

When I was 16 years old I went to Japan for the summer for school. Whether by ornate curiosity from the instructors or blind luck I was selected to be a part of a small squad of students that would participate in a exchange program in Iwate, Japan. At 16 I was five foot four, golden blonde with a disheveled grin and dressed like a Hot Topic ad before there was such a thing. Frankly, it's always an embarrassing moment when a female interest finds these photographs that mother and sister have stashed away like the easter bunny. I went with several friends and soon to be friends as well, but my two closest comrades were Geoff and Jacob. Before we left for Japan Geoff, Jacob and I barely knew anything about each other, but now we can safely say we know what we look like in our skivvies and would trust each other with our lives, or pokemon card collection -- at the time of course. Geoff usually had his dirty blonde mop kept in place by one large red sweatband. He wore large cargo pants, black combat boots and you could always hear him coming with the amount of necklaces and metal bracelets he wore. If you ever got this poor boy talking about electronica, gameboys or obscure anime, good luck shutting him up. 

Geoff was an electro junkie, listening to Dieselboy and Daft Punk. Jacob on the other hand shared similar qualities, such as anime, video games and general interest in the female body, but they look like polar opposites. Jacob was small, had a brown bowl haircut (that his mother probably cut for him) and was Jewish. Jacob was quiet and had a chuckle that seized his body. Jacob always made me feel funny or like the comedian of the group, so I often tested out my jokes on him. We were the three amigos full of sexual angst and without even the slightest clue or definition of what that even meant.

There's something odd about being sent to a country that is both highly sexualized but yet conservative when one is fully engulfed by the quicksand of puberty. All the girls were cute, I wanted them all, and the condom and cigarette vending machines told me I could have them all too. Japan was just one giant illusion of subservient ants bluffing the carnal and untamed sexual drive of the King of the Jungle. But I guess once a suit hits the floor, it no longer makes the man. I guess that's how it works, right? Well one day we were in Tokyo and the guys and I decided that we would go to Akihabara, or a.k.a. "Electric Town". It was the perfect place for kids our age. On every corner there was an arcade, comic book stand, video stores and tons of girls walking around in adorable schoolgirl outfits -- stockings and all. 

After browsing the comic book stands, Japanese Radioshacks and novelty shops, which by the way contained the predicted amount of henti and "engrish" products, I felt overwhelmed and slightly sick. My senses were bombarded with products supposedly used by a human being, black and white pencil drawings of girls being seduced by bipedal humanoids, videos with bold pink lettering covering up what seemed to be children and the smell of burnt plastic over hot wires. Soon all the stores seemed to blend together like a poorly stitched music video, cigarette burn in the top corner and the same extras in every background. I couldn't take it, so we hopped on a train.

Ever wished you could slow down time? Well you can, or at least not intentionally. In the metro station below the bowels of Akiabara, the trains were lined up parallel to each other like the gigantic locks of a linoleum dam. One train the middle, separated by a sea of people flooding the on ramp, transferring the weight from box to another. The doors opened like shutters on a space shuttle, out of sync but in a musical rhythm let out puffs of unsterile air in white fragile clouds. The men held parcells, dirty magazines and the women clutched their bodies. It was as if they were trapped in the headlights of the floor, muscle memory and darwinian logic kept them safe. 

I was standing in the middle of the metro car, holding onto a metallic poll as the door to my left geared open and a mass of people poured in like squishy marbles. Geoff fought for a seat, swishing from side to side as his beads clanked on tapped bystanders. He was victorious and claimed the seat. Geoff pulled out his walkman and turned it on, lost in the beat of some volatile break beat Once Geoff had his head phone one, he might as well be deaf. Only shiny objects and earthquakes would break him out his deep electro trance. Jacob on the other hand, who had also been successful in finding a seat was caught between the only two obese people on the car. Imagine the smallest amount of frosting between two large oreo cookies, that was Jacob. He looked miserable. I knew not to look at him because there would be a good chance he’d start laughing, get embarrassed then start looking for the quickest exit to escape his lack of social ques. 

Then the door on my right popped, then clicked and gasped and finally opened as if the gear-grease was made of sticky sugar. More squishy marbles gushed past me, back out into the sea of people. As they exited, the door on the train parallel to us opened, succinct timing for the wave to transfer from one box to the other. 

It was gross.


I had an open line of sight from where I was standing to the other train car across the sea. My peripheral vision was cut off, I could not see Geoff. I could not see Jacob. I could only see straight ahead of me. The claustrophobia of the parted sea walls were closing in -- and in that moment time stopped, and I was alone. I gaze drifted across the way and to my surprise I found that I was staring into the eyes of someone. Someone one beautiful.
She had been looking at me the whole time, or well, that's at least what my body had told me. Gentlemen, she was radiant. 

I must have been staring at her for longer than I had realized because my hands had molded to the poll by the clammy sweat of palm. Her eyes were like dream catchers, so unique that I could only see it in my sleep. Her skin was fair hair, auburn; bobbed and curtsied just under her jaw. She clutched the poll and had rings, metallic rings. There were embers painted below her eye lids and pale lips that were curving into a smile... a smile. She was looking at me, and as soon as my brain had sent the signal of realization to my body time found its proper place. It was like waking up in the middle of a high speed motorcycle chase or bracing for light speed. The doors sucked them selves as if to quarantine and the train took off like a slingshot. I was smiling, but it was too late because the only person that could see it was me; deep within the reflection of the protective glass of the train car door. As I stepped off the train moments later at the next stop, I gathered my thoughts and went home.Some moments in life are like this.
A dream and only a dream.

Zacho Fraser is an independent artist from Auckland/Wellington, New Zealand and composes music that lures you into his world. To quote two bands, it's like slipping into a fever and the sound of sugar pouring into tea -- simply good.

Find a pair of headphones or find a quiet place to chill. You'll need to be alone to fully absorb this one.

P.S. You can download his music HERE. 
You're welcome. 





My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed because I am going through chemo treatments. I was diagnosed with Multiple Meyloma at the end of July 2013, and fighting the good fight. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). Anything you give is awesome. Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.