I would not go back to listen to it again until about five years later. I no longer remember what I dreamt, but I knew I had experienced the Wall’s honest, primal power even though I could barely understand what was going on in the “narrative” of this concept album. ![]() ![]() That night, after climbing under the sheets in the bottom bunk of the bed I shared with my little brother, I suffered a nightmare. A neighbor at my apartment building loaned me a cassette version, and I played it through only once, before going to bed. ![]() I first heard Pink Floyd’s 1979 double album the Wall sometime in 1984, as a 12-year-old boy.
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