Thursday, April 19, 2007

No one wants to hear what you dreamt about, unless you dreamt about them . . .*

Last night I dreamt I was hanging out with Jeremy Greenspan of the Junior Boys and my childhood best friend Orelia (who I haven't thought about in years) before his big concert opening for the Rolling Stones (???) on some giant mile-long field with a stage on the end of it and a bunch of shrubbery in the middle. For some reason, keyboardist Matt Didemus didn't want to hang out with us because he didn't like me, so he wasn't there and I felt slighted. Then the lights dimmed on the stage in the faraway distance, Jeremy disappeared to start the show and Orelia and I jumped into an SUV with a steering wheel on both sides of the car; together we drove past the shrubbery, through the crowd of people and miraculously parked in the middle of it without running anyone over. Then I didn't even get to see the show because I woke up.

*Name that lyric!

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