Music Singles Dream keeper About (EN)
 
 
  Dear ones, thank you for coming this far. This means that besides listening to the songs, you might want to learn more about them. I want you to know that I appreciate your interest.

Allow me to share a story with you, which may be familiar to some of you who are animal lovers and have experienced something similar in your lives. However, for me and based on my experiences so far, this story represents a novel experience, and that’s why I’ve chosen to share it with you.


My relationship with animals

I grew up in a single-family house with a garden, in a neighborhood with an open area, filled with the joyful voices of children. On every occasion, I found myself surrounded by cats and dogs. As a child, I often brought neighborhood kittens home and secretly placed them under my bed covers. I would pet them, and they would purr with pleasure. I can’t say for sure who enjoyed it more: the cats or me.

As I grew older, I acquired an allergy to cats. Living in my own home, I decided not to have any pets — not only due to the allergy but also because of the practical implications of living with animals. My choice, combined with my slight obsession with cleanliness and eutaxy (some might call it a compulsion), led me to never have any pets at home (except for four goldfish for a brief period), and I’m ok with that.

I fearlessly pet dogs, but when I see a kitten, I’m torn between the temptation to pet it and the fear that doing so might trigger my allergy. Sometimes I experience almost no allergy symptoms, while other times I suffer. I believe it depends on cumulative factors: the more extensive the presence of cats in a place, the more pronounced the symptoms.

In the past, when my two daughters were younger, they occasionally asked to bring a pet home. However, I always resisted. Over the years, my younger daughter —who was living in her own home and making her own decisions— adopted a little rabbit. She got it in December 2019 when it was about a month old. It was a small, pure white ball of fluff with black speckles. When I held it for the first time, I realized it was the softest thing I had ever touched. It was a sweet little creature, and fortunately, I didn’t seem to have any allergies to rabbits.

When I was at my daughter's house, I would pet the bunny, and then return to my own home. Everything was fine.


The new housemate

After some time, my younger daughter needed to return to the house where I live. As expected, she brought her new housemate —the rabbit— with her. I wasn’t particularly thrilled about the fact of cohabiting with a rabbit, but I wasn’t negative either. On one hand, I was bothered by the mess caused by the rabbit, which often roamed freely around the house. On the other hand, I felt bad thinking negatively about a little bunny that hadn’t chosen to live with us but whom we had chosen to have.

Both my daughters loved the rabbit, but for my younger one, it was her other half. She adored it excessively. And you know what? I ended up loving it too, much more than I initially thought, as it turned out.

For four whole years, it was my little companion at home, always by my side no matter what I did. It was the only patient listener who never complained about the music I created. As I write these lines, I think it might have been musically inclined due to its origins — it was from Austria, perhaps from Vienna.


Health adventures

Among other small incidents, in early 2023, we experienced our first serious health problem with our bunny. An abscess appeared under its chin, but fortunately, after surgery at the clinic and the treatment we administered at home with antibiotics and injections, its health was fully restored. After a few weeks, our rabbit was completely well and continued its mischievous antics as before.

In mid-May 2024, it showed weakness and dysfunction. It stopped eating, and its behavior indicated that something was wrong. We visited the same veterinarian who had performed the surgery, tests were done, treatment at the clinic for three days, then treatment at home, as well as feeding with a feeding syringe until it could eat on its own again. My younger daughter, cradling it like a baby, fed it and administered the medications. Gradually, in combination with the treatment and feeding, the bunny hesitantly started eating a little bit of grass and showed small signs of improvement.

Suddenly, its condition dramatically changed, and on May 30, 2024, our bunny passed away. I was at work (in the factory, in case you thought I live by making music) when my daughter called to tell me that the rabbit was seriously ill. As we spoke, it took its last breath. My little one cried out, “Daddy, my rabbit died,” and I rushed home, shaken, to be with my daughter and our departed pet.

I’ll never forget the moment I entered and saw it lifeless on the couch. I held it in my hands, petting it. It was soft, as always, but now motionless. I couldn’t accept that the cute bunny I had petted that morning before leaving for work was no longer alive. My daughter and I cried together, and don’t think I’m someone who easily sheds tears. It was the first time in my life that I cried so much, and for the first time, I’m not ashamed to admit it.

This little creature activated something in me that I never expected to be faced with: My vulnerability to his death. I loved this bunny, my little soul, much more than I thought. It cost me dearly.


The farewell

On the same day, at noon, we wrapped the rabbit in its green blanket, the one it used to lie on, and my daughter cradled it. We took it near my childhood home, where I mentioned earlier in the story, and where the same open area still exists, but with fewer children’s voices now. We went a little further away from the open area, to a relatively secluded spot next to an olive tree. There, I dug a small hole to place our rabbit.

Soon, I realized that this olive tree is visible from the bridge I cross daily by car on my way to work. Every morning, stealing a fleeting glance at the spot where the tree stands, I feel that I’ve left a piece of myself there.


Bunny and Dream keeper: Two seemingly unrelated things that ultimately became connected

When our rabbit’s health got worse, I was already working on a new version of “Dream Keeper”, a song first released in 2010. It’s a chillout hip-hop track that existed in two versions: one with (terrible) vocals and one without. I planned to release it again, this time with improved vocals. However, plans changed.

After the rabbit’s passing, I decided to express my emotions through music rather than keeping them hidden. Thus, the third version of “Dream Keeper” emerged — a blend of sorrow and nostalgia for a creature whose absence would forever leave a void, coupled with a wish for a nice journey.


The delusion of beyond

I am an agnostic. I don’t believe in gods or demons. In vain, I try to comprehend the vastness of the universe, and the more I expand my observation, the more I realize the insignificance of my existence. I don’t believe in divine phenomena or paradises for rabbits — or even for humans. Certainly, it would console me to believe in such things. It would be the same comfort as transitioning to another afterlife, the illusion upon which all the world’s religions rely. However, I cannot, in the way I think and function, accept that our bunny is currently living another life beyond the bounds of our reality.


A final thought

Yet, if I have one thought to accompany its memory, it is that this little creature, returning its matter to the universe from which it originated, contributes to the rekindling of its consciousness in some other future form. Perhaps through a new combination of molecules, it will gaze with awe and wonder at all the marvelous things happening around us, through a journey that may be different for each of us, but its destination will always be common.


As an alternative ending

My little bunny, my soul, you’ve made me a better person than I was before you entered my life. I love you. I’ll remember you for as long as I live.

June 17, 2024		  
 
 
 
 
 
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