In a jaw-dropping revelation that’s shaking the world of music to its core, Bob Dylan, the elusive legend and voice of generations, has done the unthinkable — naming the seven women he once *wished* he’d taken to bed.
At 84 years old, the Nobel laureate sat back in a smoke-filled room, eyes half-hidden behind dark shades, and whispered into the silence, “You want names? That’s dangerous territory, man.”
But then — like a confession years in the making — he spilled everything.
JONI MITCHELL – “THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY”
“She could play one wrong chord and make it sound like love breaking,” Dylan murmured.
He called her “a storm in a silk dress.” The two had a volatile friendship — part muse, part rival — and Dylan admitted he’d often dreamt of what could have been.
“She didn’t just write songs,”* he said. *“She rewrote the rules of being alive.”
JOAN BAEZ – “THE SAINT WITH FIRE INSIDE”
With a wistful grin, Dylan described Baez as “holy light wrapped in barbed wire.”
Their shared history is legend — duets, heartbreak, betrayal. “She could’ve burned me alive with just a look,” he confessed. “And I would’ve thanked her.”
BONNIE RAITT – “THE RED-HAIRED OUTLAW”
“Bonnie doesn’t play songs,” Dylan growled. “She *owns* them — and maybe she could’ve owned me too.”
He spoke of her as a woman who could drink, fight, and sing better than any man alive. “If she’d asked, I’d have followed her into the fire,” he said, eyes glinting.
EMMYLOU HARRIS – “THE ANGEL WITH A BROKEN HALO”
“She sings like time stopped just to listen,” he said quietly. Dylan confessed he once almost told her what he felt — but the moment passed.
“She could hit your heart like a hammer wrapped in velvet,” he sighed. “And I let her walk away.”
STEVIE NICKS – “THE WITCH WHO HAUNTED ME”
When her name came up, Dylan laughed — a dark, knowing laugh.
“She’s magic and madness in one body,” he said. “You don’t sleep with Stevie Nicks. You surrender to her.”
He described watching her onstage once and feeling “like she was casting a spell that never wore off.”
TINA TURNER – “THE WILD FIRE”
“She didn’t perform,” Dylan said, leaning forward. “She erupted. Every song she sang was a lightning strike.”
He admitted that during their brief encounters in the ’70s, he “could barely look her in the eye — it was like staring at the sun.”
“She didn’t need love,” he said. “She *was* love — violent, loud, and holy.”
ARETHA FRANKLIN – “THE GODDESS OF SOUND”
Finally, Dylan fell silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice cracked.
“Aretha… that’s where it all ends,” he whispered. “She sang the truth. The rest of us just made noise.”
He described her as “the only woman who could’ve made me believe in redemption.”
When the interview ended, the room was silent.
No one dared speak — not even Dylan, who simply smiled that crooked smile and muttered, “Guess that’s my confession.”
Whether this was a moment of honesty or myth-making from a master storyteller, one thing’s for certain: Bob Dylan just reminded the world that even legends have their ghosts — and theirs sing in perfect harmony.
