1972

Bill Withers wakes in a sweat. His record "Just As I Am," has been released for a year now. Its not selling that well. At 33, he knows that he needs a big break. Installing toilet seats on airplanes can only bring him so much fulfillment. It does offer him the time to write though, which makes him feel good. In 6 hours he will perform for British T.V. He has been thinking about wearing his orange turtle neck that he bought from a catalog last month. He feels that it looks good with his hair and his pants. He wonders if he is too old worry about style. "I am not David Bowie," he says to the ceiling. He remembers his dream:
Walking down a corridor built of polished metal. His reflection one both sides trailing off forever in an arc, as if the metal is not exactly level, so that he can see the bend of his reflection. Ignoring the frightening view of himself forever, and the feeling of infinity that has kept him awake such childhood (Mother, if we die, and go to heaven, and its infinite, what do we do? Do we get bored?) And that mind numbing feeling of infinitely sitting on a white cloud laughing, which is fun, but for ever? Ever Ever? God, it hurts to think about it.
So he walks forward, eventually the corridor opens into a lush green field, with a small pond in the middle. Next to the pond is a live oak. Its heavy branches dragging the ground, some of the thicker branches held in place by metal "Y" shaped pieces of metal.
Bill approaches the tree and notices his mother and father, together for the first time since their divorce when he was three. "M-M-Mother?" he stutters. A small group of children approach and start making fun of his stutter. He had cured that..."I had fixed that stutter," he thought. Suddenly his breathing slowed, his throat constricted. His childhood asthma choking back his breath. Running, turning, Bill looks frantically for the door out of.

He awakes.
Hours later, dressed in his orange sweater, the cameras rolling, Bill says,
"Men have problems admitting to losing things, I think women are much better at that. . . . So, once in my life, I wanted to forgo my own male ego and admit to losing something, so I came up with—"
and launches into "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone," the B side to "Harlem." He goes on to win a grammy, the record goes gold.