Had a dream about some over-the-hill singer-songwriter, a James Taylor–type, except maybe a little darker. He had decided to officially retire, to declare that he was done with it all. In the dream this seemed both poignant and somehow heroic. His name was Ben Crenshaw.
He was listening to some of his old recordings, ceremoniously, maybe for the last time. His songs were great. One of them had the following refrain:
Cryin’ and gettin’ high
Cryin’ and gettin’ high