Andy Gibb
Shadow Dancing

The advantages of being where I am are many. Firstly, the ubiquity: I don’t get bored because I have the possibility of being everywhere. Down, across the light green expanses, with those pearlescent flowers that smell like never before. Down the misty coast with its perpetual morning brightness. Or inside endless forests where I pretend to get lost. Suddenly, silence falls all around, and the other figures vanish as if by magic. And while I am here, I am also there. Near an extremely high mountain on whose peak, which I reach with no effort at all, I find the same intense white that is also further below. Everywhere you feel suspended, like dancers who never seem to touch the ground with their flying skates. And above all, solitude does not exist, constantly dissipated by an indecipherable contentment. It stands to reason that pain is a distant, intangible concept. But it is not true that the senses are completely lost: everything I once knew only by touching or seeing I can now perceive through intense smells and a coherent harmony that dominates this great infinite immensity. However, the only invariable element is the sound of what I once called music, as if it were a dark mystery that makes me hold onto a shred of memory. Because, unfortunately, I have noticed that I suffer more and more from forgetfulness. I grab drifting, white clouds in an attempt to capture blurry images, maybe they are the imperceptible memories of who I was.

Suddenly, I am no longer alone, but in every corner of this wild yet simultaneously welcoming and love-filled plain, lights appear even stronger than the persistent white. These lights start to take shape, becoming something more defined, not entirely, but still recognizable. They are scattered figures, first sporadic, then increasingly concentrated and numerous. I pass by them, and an intense warmth better defines me too, as if I were catching fire. Goodness, how many there are! There is no limit, and we don't even consider it a problem. Each of these figures is engaged in some activity: some gently enjoy the flowing river, remaining suspended above it; some, in pairs, slowly communicate through funny gestures, like two who discuss the most diverse matters, which remain unknown; some appear lying supine, staying that way for a long time, you could never say how much: so long that once I would have wondered how a man could not get bored behaving so singularly, persisting in such a monotonous action. But here, boredom, just like the passage of time, does not exist. Then one of these figures approaches me, I don't know how – knowing or not knowing makes no difference where I am – but I recognize him: it's my brother, whom elsewhere I called Robin.

In this place, there are no laws, there is no regime. Everyone just is, and they are as they wish. And above all, here, everyone can realize what they desire; a snap of fingers, a torch's sparkle, and as if by magic, everything before them is as it should be. So now, I'm not interested in the tortuous river currents or the still ponds all around, I don't worry about the valleys and marvels of the senses, but instead, I am content to be and to be with my brother Robin. About him, as with everything else, I have a memory, yes, but not precise and defined, just like him towards me. But something tells me there is an additional bond between us. We brush against each other with our fiery, burning tails and there, before us, a huge structure materializes, on whose facade a luminous sign reads: recording studio. We cross the threshold as if it were the portal to another dimension in the dimension, and everything appears familiar: a guitar, a drum set, a bass, a microphone. Keyboards. From another door, suddenly, yet another glow makes its appearance, with an aura of utmost positivity: and I recognize my other brother, Maurice. So, in turn, each of us does what he does best: Robin and I start to sing, ambitiously competing for the microphone, while Maurice sits at the keyboard.

I started a joke
Which made the whole world cry
But I didn’t realize
That I was joking about myself, oh no

These verses start with Robin, who in life must have been older than me, the elder brother. Note by note, he is accompanied by Maurice's keyboard. I remain a bit on the sidelines in admiration, feeling within me a growing intense, almost languid warmth.

I started to cry
Which made the whole world laugh
Oh if only I had realized
That I was joking about myself

I looked up to the sky
Wiping my eyes
And I fell out of bed
Hurting my head
From the words I had said

All of a sudden, the immense memory strikes me assiduously, and I feel my entity retreat, overwhelmed by a giant and uncontrollable anxiety. Those notes, those words, that musical mystery I spoke of earlier, now open the doors of memory. I see us three again, Robin, Maurice, and me, back in 1979, igniting the stage with our older brother Barry, before a large and overflowing crowd. We are stars with millions of fans around the world, making music that’s all the rage at that time and of which we are the most popular exponents.

Until I died
And the whole world began to live
Oh if only I had realized
That I was joking about myself

Meanwhile, Robin continues his song, and I remember how much I adored this particular song. I’m living the dream within a dream, yet I feel awake. It's not like those nights in Australia, when I would close my eyes and drift off to sleep. Now I feel brighter than ever. I also recall that out of the admiration I had for my older brothers, I too began making music. I wrote some pieces on my own, but more than anything, it was my brother Barry, my role model, who wrote for me. But what is happening? What is this veil of sadness? How is it possible in the place where I am, here, with Robin and Maurice? Barry... you're not here, you're not one of those figures warming this environment, you don't have the contours of the Sun. Now you're a thought, the only piece that gives me a sense of measure, despite being where space and time are completely nullified. However, with the other figures, I feel a closeness, while you are distant. You knew how I wanted to resemble you, the affection I had for you, dear brother. Thanks to the support of my family, I released this record, I was satisfied with it, I wanted it to celebrate love and joy more than anything else, but also that it be an indelible sign of the respect I felt and still feel for you. The dance of shadows, that’s what it was called. Naively, I thought it spoke of some romantic relationship, but now I realize that it spoke first and foremost to your heart.

You made me look at that heaven in your eyes
I was chasing your direction, I wasn't telling you any lies
And I loved you

Well yes, now I am a shadow myself. Probably, down there, much time must have passed, but as I already told you, about this, here – if a here even exists – there is no feeling. I think I understand that during the passage into this infinite whiteness, all of us must go beyond a source, pass under a waterfall, and finally, we will be reborn a second time. Yet it is strange, according to this reasoning there should be a substantial distance between me and all of you who are elsewhere. It's not like this, I’m sure of it; one can never truly be distant from the heart of those who loved us. So you, Barry, and all of you who sincerely loved me when I was there, right among you, keep listening to my music: it is there, in those atmospheres, where space and time are most closely nullified to the absolute.