Record of the Week: Cassandra Lewis’ ‘Lost In a Dream’

The last year or so has been a whirlwind for Cassandra Lewis. Well, maybe twister is a more apt description. She signed a record deal, underwent a life changing breakup, uprooted her life and landed down in Nashville. While still processing all that enormous change and emotional devastation, she still had to deliver an album. It’s no wonder the Wizard of Oz ended up as a guiding theme for Lost in a Dream, WNXP’s Record of the Week. In conversation with WNXP, Lewis shared some of that journey from the influence of her mountain West upbringing to the impact of psychedelics to the number of cities she’s lived in (it’s a lot).

Jason Moon Wilkins: You had, a pretty circuitous route around America and growing up in different places, but you spent a lot of time in the West. And I think I hear that in your music. Is that something you find showing up in the way you write?

Cassandra Lewis: Yeah. You’re out in high mountain desert for a lot of your childhood and staring at stars and hanging out with the sounds of coyotes and all of that. It’s pretty hard to run away from that sound as much as I might have tried. When I was younger, I didn’t have as much of an appreciation for all of that. I loved certain classic country, but country wasn’t cool at the time in the 90s.

Jason Moon Wilkins: And did you run away from that?

CL: Absolutely. I mean, it was part of my early music musical upbringing, and I performed a lot of songs like Patsy Cline and, even dipping into some Marty Robbins type of stuff. But it wasn’t as received as I might have wanted it to be at that time. And so, I sort of shifted out of that and moved into more psychedelic rock. Listening to like, LED Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and all that. I’ve gone through many eras of music, but I always had a soft spot for it. And I’m glad that it’s finally being appreciated.

JMW: Was running away also about getting emotional distance from the more conservative aspects of where you grew up?

CL: Definitely. Yeah. I mean, growing up queer and closeted and confused about where I wanted to go and be. Yeah, definitely that was a difficult acclamation and I as soon as I could, I got out. My father moved to California when I was 14. And so, I spent a summer in Big Sur as a lifeguard. Which, by the way, I cannot swim (laughs). I don’t know how I got it. I don’t know how I’ve gotten most of my jobs. And so I had the eye opening experience there and was like, I’m gonna come back here immediately as soon as I (can). And then from there I just kind of tried all the places that I wanted to go as many places as I could. I think I’m on my 33rd city now.

JMW: So, talking about this Western influence, is there a song that captures that feeling of sitting out in the plains and looking at stars?

CL: “Some Kind of Love” Yeah. That one has the the deepest roots in me. That’s my favorite song on the record. And it feels like a like a home base. It’s about giving myself the closure that I need from this relationship and getting back to the baseline of my own being. And “Little Girl” is one that I also think is sort of that anchor point for me. Reminding myself where I came from. Who I am. What I’m doing. What I’ve come through to, essentially heal from this thing. So, “Little Girl” is sort of a poem to myself. And a reclamation. Even if it was very difficult to feel stripped away of all of my power, it’s good to remember where I was and how far I’ve come.

JMW: On “Little Girl” I hear these echoes of a theme that show up in other songs, like “So Bad” and “Emerald City.” You talk about false memories and a “shadow.” There seems to be a theme of dealing with a person who was maybe being deeply dishonest with you?

CL: Well, the whole premise for the record wasn’t intentional. I just happened to be in the throes of a really difficult heartbreak. A long-term friendship with someone who I really respected and loved and looked up to and held on such a high pedestal that it felt like I built a whole world around them. It was sort of this savior complex. And also, my codependency, from a difficult upbringing, stepfather, etc., etc. It all goes way, way deep into my cycles and my, you know, “complex childhood trauma storyline.” I don’t ever shy away from talking about mental health and all of that, but it’s interesting how much I can still be duped. And this one really blew my mind.

So the whole record I essentially wrote after the fact. There were a few songs that I had started, during this relationship. By the end of it, it was so painful. And there’s a million ways I can blame this person or try to make this such an angry album. But instead, I found by the end of it, it turned into more of an acceptance of the human spirit and the wounds that we bring into these new relationships. You know hurt people, hurt people.

And so, driving across the country, to Nashville, up until the very last moment, he was the last person I saw in that town. And then I got in a van with a filmmaker who was shooting a documentary and, a friend of mine and my dog and my stuff, and we drove all the way across the country. And that song kind of just came. The rhythm of the road and everything. This rubber band stretched out too far and then it finally snapped and I realized, ‘Oh my God, this just happened! How did I just let this happen?’

JMW: One of the things that you have talked about publicly is psychedelics and the role that has played in your life. With all these difficulties you’ve gone through, whether it’s your childhood or relationships; is your experience with psychedelics something that helped you if not just manage these things, then maybe realize some things about yourself?

CL: Oh, absolutely. It’s an interesting process going through the different experiences that I’ve had. I was stone cold sober for most of my 20’s. I worked really hard. I worked multiple jobs and, didn’t have health care for a long time. And also from moving so many times I didn’t really have a strong community. I had gone through a pretty difficult experience living up in the Seattle area. I was out there for like five years and, got in a couple of car accidents and lost a big opportunity. My first real Nashville opportunity, which, was over a decade ago. I was going to start a publishing company and I had investors and was building a whole thing. But that fell apart. And also (ended) a relationship. So lost, everything, really, and couldn’t play a guitar even. Had to go through a lot of physical therapy. And I ended up moving back home with my mother in Idaho for the first time since I was 15.

I was introduced to psychedelics in, Boise, Idaho and what happened for me was truly magical. But it was not like magic, like witchy stuff. For me it unlocked something that was so necessary to move forward, which was the acceptance of myself. I got to see myself outside of myself and in a way, appreciate myself for how beautiful I was. At the time I was wearing full like, pin up makeup, body dysphoria, everything was just rigid and tight, and the weight of the whole entire world was on me. And I got to look at myself in a mirror, and every little freckle was a rainbow, and my makeup was all gone. I had cried it all off. It’s such a cliche story but I was listening to Ravi Shankar and I just started laughing. I just started laughing and the laugh was so full body and it was like, ‘Wow, I have been a fool. I have been a whole fool. I’m almost embarrassed.’ But, I laughed and then it turned into just this deep, weeping, feeling, crying combination. And then it started to turn into singing and some strange, weird melting of all of these emotions. It was just the greatest release I have ever had, and my voice was just pouring out. And like all of the pain just came out of my body. And then I sat in the backyard and, you know, overcame my fear of bees and bugs and spiders, laying in the pumpkin patch in my backyard. Looks a little crazy, but it felt great. And so much music came out of that. My voice came through. I had been like a mockingbird for a long time, and I found it finally in that moment.

JMW: One of the themes of the record, which is sometimes obvious is the Wizard of Oz. What led you to that? To take, to take these thoughts, these feelings and filter it through that story?

CL: I’d never written a full piece of work for somebody, but it was worthy of an entire story. The timeline was interesting as well. So I started this relationship and then got this record deal during the pandemic and moved out to Nashville. And it felt like two separate worlds. The black and white unconditional love for this person. Just accepting their behavior and their lies because I was just so madly in love with them and worshiped them basically. And then getting sort of swirled up into their whole world there. I also blame me a little bit here and my codependent narcissist cycle that I tend to get into. And self-actualization realizations that sometimes we bring in these inherited things. “More Like Mama” is one of the songs that represents the stuff that I’m bringing in. “Hold the Door” is about ‘I know that I have these things. I don’t want you to fix it. I would love for you to hold the door and make it a little easier for me to walk through. The whole first side is just, that sort of sepia tone world that we were co-creating and then “Some Kind of Love” is the sort of running away from home. “Lost in a Dream” is where I’m just stuck in the swirl of this thing, this magical thing. And I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. “So Bad” is like the flying monkeys, the addiction.

I had basically less than a month from arriving in Nashville to saying goodbye to this person and then getting directly into writing sessions. I wanted to just fall apart and cry for months and play video games and not see anybody. But instead, I had to get into the (writing) room and they’re like, ‘So what’s alive for you?” And I’m like ‘Well, I just got out of a relationship with essentially what felt like The Wizard of Oz. And I finally got to peek behind the curtain and see what was really there.’ And it was just a man. Just a dude. And not this magical being that could save my life and take me home and create this space for me and heal my problems and do all this stuff. And, how childish I was to think that someone could do that for me.

And obviously by the end of the movie, she realizes that she had the power to click her heels and appreciate the things that she had for herself and, be the home that she was really looking for in this other, other place. You know, her wanderlust, satisfied by sort of self-acceptance. So it was really a process of forgiveness, of myself and this person and any other person I might have been in relationships with. I love visuals. I like to be very painterly with my words and storytelling and make something that’s a start-to-finish listen like a film. Cinematic. So that’s what popped into my head. And that’s what you get.