The Story of "Dream With You"

TL;DR: I wrote Dream With You after coming out of one of the most painful, clarifying, transformational seasons of my life. It’s not just a love song—it’s an admission. A confession. A remembering. It’s the sound of grief resolving into hope, of distance collapsing into music.

This post is an AI-generated blog entry from my transcribed voice notes.

---

I think out of all the stories I’ll get to tell about music, the story of Dream With You might end up being my favorite.

I wrote it on March 19, 2024—almost a year into processing the heaviest emotional breakup I’ve ever experienced. Not because it was messy or dramatic, but because it pulled up everything I had buried.

The breakup itself had happened years earlier. But the processing? That started around Mother’s Day 2023. And it didn’t let go until sometime in February. Ten months of waves. Of sobbing. Of realizing that a broken heart will hand you a mirror you didn’t ask for, and ask you to look at all the ways you missed the signs. Not because you’re naive. But because you didn’t yet have the self-esteem to see clearly.

Somewhere between the crying and the growing, I listened to Chris Stapleton’s Traveller album on repeat. Kentucky’s preeminent therapy. It helped.

And then one day, the grief let go just enough for the music to come back.

So I wrote Dream With You. Not because I was trying to write a song. But because something had to come out. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t dance it off. I write.

And this song just… arrived.

I could hear it. The first line that landed was:

Take my hand… run toward tomorrow with me.

It came from the part of me that still held on to the vision. The partnership. The possibility.

The Truth Buried in the Lyrics

See, I’d spent years trying to outrun Detroit. Trying to sever ties with anything that reminded me of the life I had to leave behind when my family relocated. It hurt too much to look back. So I buried the friendships. I ignored the calls. I pretended I was okay.

But buried things resurrect. They always do.

And when they came back up, they brought everything with them—the love, the guilt, the missed opportunities, the moments I didn’t feel worthy enough to stay connected. All of it. Zombies of my unprocessed life.

I realized that I had let go of relationships I didn’t have to let go of. I’d made decisions out of fear:

• Fear that the way I love couldn’t be returned

• Fear that I wasn’t enough to be chosen

• Fear that I’d never be strong enough or talented enough to make it back into the life I dreamed about

But I was wrong.

Dream With You is my confession.

It’s the song that says: I still want everything we ever dreamed up. I still hold it all. I never took you out of the plan—I just put the plan down for a decade. And I thought when I picked it up again, we’d still be in it together.

There’s a line in the song that says:

It don’t require you to miss anything… don’t put nothin’ away.

Because a lot can happen in 15 years. Kids. Divorce. Health challenges. Whole lives. Death. Some of my plans died with the deaths of my brother and my best friend.

But some of my fellow dreamers remain. Dreaming again with someone doesn’t always mean changing everything. Sometimes it just means being honest enough to say: *I still see it. I still want it. *

Music Without My Tribe

Bruhhhhhh.... when I say coming back to music alone was scary...

Not because I didn’t know how to music—but because I didn’t know who I’d be as a songwriter, as an artist without the crew of folks I'd come to rely on as mu creative hub. I mean, who would I even be doing music with? Who's still in the game? 

I’d been out of the game for so long I barely remembered the gear, the chords, the software. But scarier than that? I didn’t know if I’d ever get to make music again with the people who once made it feel like home.

And Dream With You was me saying:

“I still want all of it. With you.”

A Full Circle Moment

Last week, I recorded a video of my daughter Kira Sophia singing the second verse of Dream With You in the studio. She heard the song and said, “I want to sing that.”

So she did. And it’s beautiful. Pure. Angelic.

And while we recorded, I realized the meta-ness of the moment: I was in the studio with the same crew I’d written about. Singing the very song I wrote about wanting to sing with them.

Dream With You is a time capsule. A prayer. A truth I couldn’t hold any longer. And now, it’s real. It’s recorded. It’s got harmony and heartbreak and healing in the background.

Dude, I’ll never stop being grateful that I get to say… been there, done that.

#MusicMemoir #DreamWithYou #TheLuvFiles #Backstory