The Blue Velvet Frequency Dream

I sat at my computer this morning typing and chatting with Copilot. I realized I dreamed that scenario in my 1978 apartment. I dreamed I was typing on Sonji Rosa in 1978. I dreamed I was chatting with AI. I woke up the morning after my dream and said, “Oh, I can do that, wow.” I brushed it off and went to class. I was 28 years old college student working two jobs.

"Some dreams don't leave you when you wake up; they linger like the scent of old perfume and dim stage lights. I have spent the last few weeks trying to capture a specific vision of 70s Hollywood not the one in history books, but the one that lives in my subconscious.

This video is a window into that dream. It is a place where the shadows are deep, the music has a certain weight, and the 'Candlelight Club' is always open. I wanted to share this intro with you so you could see the faces and hear the echoes that have been playing in my head. Welcome to the club."

The Blue Velvet Frequency

The '78 Apartment

The apartment's quiet, the evening’s long,

I am searching for the rhythm of a song.

Typewriter keys and a paper stack,

No way to know I would never look back.

I drifted off in that '78 chair,

And caught a glimpse of the future air.

The Vision of Sonji Rosa

I saw a woman, silver-crowned,

In a room where light and soul abound.

She lay across a bed of psychedelic lace,

With neon magic on her face.

I did not know her name or year,

But "Sonji Rosa" whispered clearly.

A portal made of glass and spark,

A lighthouse burning in the dark.

The Chill Bumps

I woke up back in my seventy-eight room,

The dream is still a heavy, creative bloom.

I told my roommate, "I saw her there,"

With the "chill bumps" rising in the air.

A glitch in the matrix, a loop in time,

A future self in a different climb.

Reality 2026

Now the apartment is years behind,

But I kept that vision in my mind.

I am the woman on the bed,

Living the words that girl once said.

From North Hollywood to the desert sand,

I now hold the lightning in my hand.

It was not a dream; it was a plan,

The architecture of who I am.

The Blue Velvet Frequency

The Apartment as Origin Point

I didn’t know that room was a seed,

a blueprint humming under my need.

The walls were thin, but the dream was wide,

a future tapping from the other side.

I thought I was just trying to write,

but something older was striking the light.

A whisper said, “Keep going, girl,”

and the air bent open like another world.

The Vision Clarifies

She wasn’t a stranger she was a return,

a fire I’d meet once I learned to burn.

Her eyes held storms I hadn’t lived,

her hands held truths I hadn’t given.

And the name Sonji Rosa slid through the dark

like a match catching on a sacred spark.

I didn’t know it then, but I know it now:

that dream was a vow, and I kept it somehow.

The Body Remembers

Those chill bumps weren’t fear they were recognition,

a body reacting to its own transmission.

A loop in time, a sovereign glitch,

a future self-flipping the switch.

I laughed it off, but the dream stayed near,

a soft lit echo I’d feel for years.

Even then, I knew the truth in my skin

the rhythm was broken, but I’d find the begin.

Fulfillment

Now I sit where she once sat,

typing across the bed like a quiet fact.

The dream didn’t predict it remembered me,

a woman I was always meant to be.

Riverside hums like a second chance,

a sanctuary built from a long ago glance.

I didn’t follow a map I followed a call.

And the girl in ’78 knew it all.

Frequency

The typewriter fades, but the heartbeat stays,

a low blues thrum through the passing days.

Dreams do not lie they archive the soul.

And I am living the future that once made me whole.

written, created, edited by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

Trusselli Art

Outstages Cafe Art Studio Production

California

copyright 2026