Two Decades Later: How "My Sleep" Found Its Way Back to Life
Some songs refuse to stay buried. They whisper from the corners of your creative consciousness until you finally listen.
"My Sleep" first emerged on my debut album Her Life as a simple piano and vocal piece; intimate, raw, born from those universal moments when love exists only in dreams. But this song had bigger plans than I could have imagined.
In 2004, I was invited to perform with the Oakland Symphony Orchestra at the Kofman Auditorium in Alameda, CA. It was a benefit concert featuring mezzo-soprano Frederica von Stade, Chris Brubeck, Jake Heggie, and other remarkable musicians. As a classical violinist, singing with an orchestra had always been a dream. I asked bass player and recording engineer Jon Evans—who I’d been working with on various projects—to create a string arrangement for "My Sleep." When his beautiful arrangement revealed jazz elements and space for a piano solo, pianist Ellen Hofmann joined the collaboration to complete the vision and perform with the symphony.
That performance became both magical and haunting. I was eight months pregnant with a son, Aidan, though I didn't yet know I would become seriously ill with pre-eclampsia. Weeks after the performance, I would lose the baby at just 37 weeks and nearly lose my own life. Although I touch on this briefly here, I wrote about it in-depth in my memoir, Relentless.
The performance exists only in photographs and memory; smartphones couldn't capture everything with a simple tap back then, and somehow, no recording was made.
The LoNG Sleep
For twenty years, "My Sleep" lived in that liminal space between dream and reality. I'd periodically plan to complete a proper recording- envisioning studio sessions with violinists (me being one of them), a cellist, pianist, and trumpet player. Plans that somehow never materialized as life and my business, Entire Productions, pulled me in other directions.
Then I discovered Musiverse, a platform connecting musicians worldwide. Suddenly, the impossible became possible. I could book the Budapest Symphony Orchestra, send them the score, and direct a recording session from my computer at my home office, then in Oakland, CA, connected by video across nine time zones.
Hearing twenty musicians breathe life into something I'd written decades earlier was exhilarating. My first reaction was tears; emotion and relief flooded through as the arrangement filled my ears with a gorgeous, cinematic sweep. That single session reignited a fervor for completing this project and releasing it into the world..
A Global Collaboration
What followed was a beautiful puzzle of musical connections. My brother Justin stepped in as producer, helping orchestrate a collaboration that spanned continents. We enlisted Josh Nelson, an incredible pianist from Los Angeles who'd toured with Natalie Cole, to create a piano track that would dance with the Budapest strings.
After years away from regular performance, I found myself back at 25th Street Recording Studio in Oakland, laying down vocals. Like riding a bike, after a few passes and plenty of water, the vocal bed felt complete.
From Amsterdam, trumpet player Phil Lassiter added his magic to the mix. Phil, who once toured with Prince, brought both the written parts and improvised passages that elevated the entire piece beyond genre boundaries.
The Full Circle
The mixing and mastering brought an unexpected connection. We took the track to Michael Denton at Infinite Studios in Alameda, known for his work with E-40 and hip-hop artists, but whose musical ear and mixing expertise transcend any single genre. As we sat in his state-of-the-art studio listening to the final mix, I felt inspired and excited. The intricacies, the poignant moments captured so beautifully, were similar to those that Justin had created in the rough mix stages; everything fell into place.
In the middle of the listening session, a memory flashed into my mind: Michael had been at that original 2004 debut performance of this piece, having been a performer on the same bill that evening. An actual full-circle moment, unplanned and unexpected, which made it even more magical. Though he didn’t recall, as he was backstage focusing on his own upcoming performance, I have the photos to prove it.
But it was working with Justin on those mixes that brought me home to myself as an artist. His immense talent shaped every nuance, every emotional peak. This project became as much about showcasing his gifts as completing my own vision.
Still Waiting, Still Dreaming
The lyrics of "My Sleep" speak to longing:
You came to me in a dream last night / How lovely it was / And you told me you loved me / Because your world didn't have me / And slowly you're alive / I know there'll be a time and place / Where love won't feel like such a race / 'Till then / I'll stay here in my sleep / Alone
I'm still waiting, still dreaming of that lasting love. But I've learned something about artistic perseverance that's just as valuable: creativity doesn't have to dominate your career to remain essential to who you are. Music is no less authentic when it exists in the margins of a full life rather than at the center of it.
"My Sleep" isn't designed to climb charts or chase radio play. Instead, it carries cinematic weight—the kind of song that could soundtrack those movie moments when hearts ache with beautiful possibility, when characters dare to keep dreaming despite everything.
I hope people will listen more than once, share it with someone who understands yearning, and feel inspired in their own creative journeys. Because some songs, like some dreams, are worth the wait, even if it takes twenty years to fully nudge them awake.
"My Sleep" is available now on all streaming platforms. The journey continues.
Written by Natasha Miller ©Scootchmusic ASCAP
Vocal performance by Natasha Miller, recorded at 25th Street Recording Studio, Oakland, CA
Strings: Budapest Symphony Orchestra
Piano: Josh Nelson, Los Angeles
Trumpet: Phil Lassiter, Amsterdam
Mixing and Mastering: Michael Denton, Infinite Studios
Produced by Justin Miller
Arrangement by Jon Evans with Ellen Hoffman