As I woke from a dream I realized I was in a forest, and a figure was standing above me. He said to me, "Come, we must go now." I recognized his voice, but my vision was still blurred from sleeping. He held out his hand to sturdy me as I rose to my feet. The sun was rising, and shone on his face. It was the face of Jim Morrison, the Lizard King. I could not believe who I was seeing because he had already gone on to the afterlife. He said to me, "Are you ready for your journey to Hell?" I realized I was about to embark on a ship leading to a place of eternal punishment. We would travel though a region of sadness, a region of the pleasure, and a region of tranquility.

Due to motion sickness, I had lost my senses and become unconscious, but then I awoke to the blare of the ship's horn sounding our arrival to Hell. Spirits pushed and shoved each other attributable to their need to take their place in Hell. Seeing my uneasiness, my guide took my hand and led me through to the region of sadness. The land was dark and no sun shone upon the ground. I could hear a prolonged, low, inarticulate sound uttering from the country and blues singers of our time. The moaning seemed to be caused by physical or mental suffering. The first level was that of country musicians. In this depressing world, these souls were constantly reminded of hardships on Earth. Some of the souls were being chased by dogs constantly. These souls could never stop because if they did, the dogs would shred them to pieces. One of the souls recognized me and called out to me, "Remember my name? I am Hank Williams. I sang about the dog that I lost and never found. As you can see, he has found me." I kept walking with Morrison because that sinner had no time to stop and chat. I recognized other sinners in the bleak place – Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Garth Brooks, and Wynonna Judd. Some of them were in vehicles that kept breaking down over and over; some were constantly filling out job applications because there was no work for them to do, and others were wandering as aimlessly as blind mice searching for their love that left them for someone else. I wept at seeing so many sinners tortured by the same sadness they carried with them on Earth. I moved on with my guide and came to a house of blues, the second level of Hell. I tried to enter the dark and gloomy house, but I was unable to get inside. I could see great blues musicians peeking out the windows longing to live the life they neglected to live on Earth. The house kept its doors locked, fastening its grip on B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and many others just as their sadness had kept a grip on their Earthly soul. I wanted to stop and talk to some of the souls I had admired on Earth, but my guide insisted on keeping pace.

We climbed down a rocky slope into a sanitation dump full of guns, drugs, and dirty condoms. On one side, in the third level, rock musicians had millions of needles stuck in the pores of their skin. None of them could talk because the drug in the needles made them incoherent, and their words came out jumbled. My guide pointed out several spirits who were unrecognizable to me – Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, John Bonham, and Mama Cass Elliot. Jim explained, "This is where I live too, but by the grace of God I was able to take you on this journey." Because I am a musician myself, I could not keep my eyes upon these once admirable people; grief had stricken me. The fourth level was in the same area that represented pleasures in life. This level was another part of the sanitation dump. The sinners wore dirty condoms on their heads and endlessly shot each other with guns. On Earth these rappers had not loved one another, but endangered one another. One of the souls came to hide by me. He pleaded, "They are after me and I cannot find a place to hide. I am Snoop Dogg. Can you help me? Don't you know who I am, fool? Everyone knows Snoop, fashizzle bizzatch!" I cowered at the sight of this spirit. He took his gun and tried to shoot me. I lost consciousness at the sight of it. When I awoke I found that I was not hurt. My guide explained that I could not be penetrated because I was not part of his world.

We moved on to the pit of hell. The fifth level was the loudest of all levels. It consisted of one room with no furniture, no windows, and white walls. The sinners there were crooners. They had to listen to each other hum in a soft, soothing voice. Their eyelids were glued open so that they could not ever sleep. They were punished the most because they influenced all other musicians of the world. All levels of Hell could hear the crooners as they echoed out their lullabies. Although there were some talented singers like Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby, their voices never harmonized and caused displeasure among the inhabitants of Hell. I could not take listening to their vocal nuances. I begged my guide to take me out of the abhorrent place.

My guide led me to the place in the forest where I had been sleeping. He advised me to be careful in life and stay on a straight path, so that I do not end up like the other musicians in Hell. He laid his hand upon my shoulder and looked at me with sorrowful eyes, "Goodbye, my friend. I must now journey to my place in Hell. Never forget me."

Like all musicians, Jim Morrison shall never be forgotten. May his music live on forever.

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