Try as hard as you can and you won't ever remember the exact moment when you've fallen asleep. It's impossible to do. It happens every damned night and we have no recollection of that very exact crossing over, from drifting to sound slumber. It feels kind of mysterious and spooky to think about, really. It's got to be the same way with anyone who's passed away.
Whether or not there's anything to look forward to - when it comes to consciousness and an afterlife after hours party sort of livelihood - that specific point of impact between the two planes of existence has to go unnoticed or unrecorded. It was one way then and it's different now. They just feel lighter, paler, maybe younger and fitter. It would be great, if every night, upon slipping into a dream state, we instinctively comment to ourselves, "Where am I?" as if we were some sort of Sam Beckett character from "Quantum Leap," trying to get our bearings and how we were supposed to fit into this new environment.
The theme music for that cross-over period of time could very well be that of Austin band, The Boxing Lesson, whose synthesizer-driven rock and roll mostly plays out as a hot, summer night's fever. It's nothing like a quiet and soothing bath, but it's a sweet drone of hissing electricity that carries on with a point, with a water landing. It sprouts fires and then extinguishes them when they're proving to be a touch unruly, or they're getting out-of-hand.
Lead singer Paul Waclawsky sings, "Blue dream/I won't give up til you do," during a song that's about the imperfections that come with every plotline. They are always fucked up so there's no reason to ever get bent out of shape about them. He reminds someone in the song that they are not alone. They'll battle the tough times over dinner. They'll sleep on them, together and they'll just - jointly - suck it up and try to get to the next dream sequence in another 24 hours. It's not all there is to live for, but there's plenty of honor in that.
The Boxing Lesson Official Site