One memorable evening about a century ago (or so it seems), back when I was a callow 20-year-old kid struggling to come to terms with my first real broken heart, a young lady of my acquaintance asked me how old I felt, deep down inside. My answer — “about a hundred and two” — was intended to be flippant, the sort of thing Bruce Willis might growl at the end of a brutal action flick that left him covered in filth and blood. But the statement was honest, too. I really did feel ancient that night, hollowed out and spent by experiences I was turning out to be ill-equipped to deal with. My friend nodded in agreement, took a drag on her cigarette — no doubt her conscious attempt to add some drama to the scene, as much as the simple action of smoking — and said my half-assed joke made sense because she’d always perceived me as having an old soul.

Now, I don’t know if I believe in the concept of “old souls” — that implies reincarnation or pre-existence or some other philosophical notion that would make my head hurt if I gave it much thought — but there’s no question I always identified more with the adults in the room than with the other kids at the folding card table in the corner. Also, I recall that from an early age, I had an unusual knack for empathizing with the feelings of my elders. Consider, for example, my youthful affection for the song featured in tonight’s edition of Friday Evening Videos:

“Your Wildest Dreams” was The Moody Blues’ highest-charting single in two decades, widely viewed as a big comeback for a band that hadn’t ever really gone away but had struggled for years to match its greatest success. Despite the song’s status as a hit, however, it didn’t please everyone. Older Moody fans were put off by the band’s newly accessible, synth-based pop sound, and many folks my own age sneered that it was just another steaming nugget of the Baby Boomers’ nostalgia for their precious Sixties. That lady friend I mentioned a moment ago was firmly in the latter camp; she told me once that her mom loved “Your Wildest Dreams,” which was reason enough for her to despise it.

Personally, I sided with her mom. I also loved this song, and a big part of the reason why was that its story of a middle-aged man wondering what had ever become of his lost love resonated with me. It shouldn’t have, when I think about it. I was still a year away from graduating high school when “Your Wildest Dreams” was released, and I hadn’t yet experienced anything that could legitimately be called “love.” Regardless, though, I got what the song was about, in that weird way I’d often gotten so many things that rightfully should’ve been beyond my years. I’m not saying I was precociously mature; I wasn’t, and in fact I feel like I’m still pretty damn immature for my age in many important respects. But I was able to imagine myself as this song’s narrator, to project myself forward in time and share in the wistful, melancholy fondness he still feels for this woman.

The great irony of this little ramble is that it’s now been nearly 20 years since I last saw my friend and I often find myself wondering if she ever thinks of me, and if so, how. I’ve gone from being able to imagine myself as the protagonist of “Your Wildest Dreams” — a song this girl hated, remember — to really being the protagonist. And my soul, old or otherwise, has very little to do with that. That’s just plain old time that’s done that…

ADDENDUM: A reader pointed out this morning that in this modern, electronic age of miracles in which we live, it’s not all that difficult to track down people we’ve lost touch with. For the record, I have looked for the girl I think of when I hear this song. Not surprisingly, she’s on Facebook, but she’s apparently not interested in connecting to anyone except a very small circle, as she’s not accepting friend requests or even messages, and she’s made very little information about herself public.
(Still, she’s better than the other girl I referenced above, the one who broke my heart — she’s on Facebook, too, but she has
everything locked down, no public info at all, not even a photo. What’s the point of even being involved with Facebook if you’re going to be that way about it? At least with the Wildest Dreams girl, I’ve been able to see what she looks like these days and find out what state she’s living in. Enough information to satisfy my basic curiosity.)

To be honest, though, I’m not sure I want to get reacquainted with her. We’ve all had the experience of being disappointed after bumping into an old love or friend (this girl was both for me at various times), and I just don’t think I want to take the risk with her. I don’t want to hear that life may have ground the edges off the crazy, fierce, fragile, tough-talking-but-creme-filled cookie who sat with me beside Little Cottonwood Creek one night, smoking and listening while I poured out my heart. And I really don’t want to know what she might think of the way I’ve turned out. She was very outspoken when she disapproved of something or someone, and, well, I never did shake the dust of this old town off my heels like she thought I ought to. Sometimes maybe it really is better to leave sleeping dogs alone.