It’s 3:00 in the morning. I’m sound asleep, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, a song taps me on the brain.
Psst. Hey. Remember me?
No.
Sure you do. Let me play a couple of bars for you.
And just like that, it starts. Not the whole song, mind you. Just the chorus. The same six or seven words, over and over again, as though somebody pressed repeat on a jukebox that hasn’t been serviced since 1983.
Now I’m awake. And the song is having the time of its life.
Where did it come from? I haven't heard this thing in decades. I wasn't thinking about it. I didn't request it. Yet here it is, performing a private concert inside my head without so much as a courtesy call. And apparently, it's booked for the entire night. But by whom? I've spent most of my life curating music, thoughtfully creating the perfect playlists. Heck, I own a music venue, and I'm very particular about who gets the stage. Nobody performs in my room without an invitation. Apparently, my brain never got the memo. I roll over and try to get back to my dream. The song follows me. Remember this part? Yes, I remember that part. Well, here it comes again! And why is it always something ridiculous? It could be a beautiful jazz composition. A little Anita Baker. Some Luther Vandross. Something soothing that might actually help me drift back to sleep. But no. My brain has decided that 3:00 in the morning is the perfect time to resurrect a song I barely tolerated when it was on the radio. Which raises another question. How is it that I can't remember where I put my glasses, but my brain has maintained a fully functioning archive of every questionable song I've encountered since adolescence? Not just the lyrics, either. The background vocals. The instrumental breaks. That one little sound effect somebody thought was clever in 1976. Finally, I drift back to sleep. The song, I assume, has packed up its equipment and gone home. Nope! The next morning, while I'm sipping my coffee, guess who's waiting for me? Good morning! Oh, you've got to be kidding. I read somewhere that if you play the whole song, it'll leave your brain, so I find it on YouTube and hit play. Big mistake. Now I've handed it new material. A second verse. A key change I had mercifully forgotten. By late morning, I'm humming it. By midafternoon, I'm singing it. And by evening, I've caught myself adding harmonies. This is how they get you. Eventually, the song will leave as mysteriously as it arrived. Until some other night, at approximately 3:00 a.m., when another long-forgotten tune comes knocking. Psst. Hey. Remember me? Lord, here we go again.