I dreamed that the guy from Woodhands gave me a hug after the show. No, wait... that actually happened. Did it? What the hell happened last night?
I also dreamed there was blood gushing down the right side of my face like a waterfall. That never happened. I'm pretty sure.
I dreamed that a friend of mine was trying to set me up with some work. Some friends of hers were in a band, and they were looking for a sound tech to take out on tour with them.
She brought me down to hear a soundcheck by the band. They were decent musicians. I was trying not to be biased. I had previously overheard some people talking about how much they sucked.
I stood at the back of the empty club as they kicked into a song.
The singer was wearing a lot of black eyeliner. He came across as a bit of a knob. The band as a whole seemed to take themselves pretty seriously. I could tell I was going to have some issues with these guys.
Part of the lyrics went like this: "Murder the man in the moustache... murder the man in the moustache."
My friend was clearly very excited at the thought of hooking me up with this band. I wasn't sure what to tell her.
They're counting down to launch the nuclear missiles, and I'm scared because the whole thing is a big misunderstanding.
I've been trying to get into the Premier's office to explain everything (the dream takes place in Russia and everyone's speaking Russian, including me). I'm running down a long fancy hallway, opening doors at random, trying to find the office of the official officer in charge of nuclear destruction.
When I reach the end of the hallway, I notice a smell that reminds me of frying steak. I pull open the door to the emergency stairs. There's a whole crew of people standing on the landing having a big barbecue.
"Surprise!" they yell in Russian.
Then someone calls out "1-2-3-4" and the band kicks in. The band is The Pogues and they're performing "If I Should Fall From Grace With God." There's lots of food and pretty girls and lots of people dancing.
I try to tell a couple of people about the missiles, but no one seems too worried about it.
This is like the sequel to my AC/DC dream. I dreamed I was at a Public Enemy concert in Montreal. Except Flavor Flav couldn't make it so I had been asked to replace Flavor.
I was all stressed out because we were supposed to go onstage in two minutes and I couldn't find my microphone anywhere.
Finally I heard an announcement. "Get ready for PUBLIC ENEMY" and the crowd went wild and the next thing I knew I was onstage in front of thousands of people performing with Public Enemy.
I was jumping around and trying to be wicked hype and fresh even though I didn't have a mic. It was a rush!
At all the right moments I would try to lean into Chuck D's mic and say "Yo Chuck" or "Yeeeeahh boyeeee" but Chuck didn't look like he was enjoying that too much so I stopped.
~ First I dreamed about Angelina Jolie. Not Angelina. Her hair. Her hair extensions. There were these two long golden-blonde braids sitting on a table. They were supposed to wind up attached to Angelina Jolie's head. Then the space heater in my bedroom kicked in, and I woke up.
~ I fell asleep again and dreamed about an apnea machine. It was this cap you wore on your head when you went to bed. It measured electrical impulses. As soon as your brain wave pattern showed that you had fallen asleep, a stick would come out and poke you in the ribs and wake you up again.
~ The third dream I had was about AC/DC. This was a parallel-universe AC/DC in which there was no Angus Young, it was just Brian Johnson singing and three hot chicks playing instruments.
I was chatting with one of the ladies and she said "We might have to cancel the concert tonight, we are desperate for a guitarist. Oh, you play? Wouldn't happen to know any of our songs, would you."
And I said "Would I," and I opened my closet to reveal a row of books on "How to Play AC/DC Songs on the Guitar."
So the next thing I knew I was onstage playing guitar for AC/DC. We opened with "Highway To Hell." The crowd was freaking out, holy shit I'm onstage with Brian Johnson and a bunch of hot chicks, SO many people here. I was losing my mind, I was all over the stage, rolling around, playing AC/DC songs on my Gibson SG. Holy shit I'm in AC/DC.
Four or five songs into our set and I was jubilant. I still couldn't get over the sheer size of the crowd. It felt amazing to have so many people giving their energy back to you. We kicked into "Let There Be Rock." I knew all the songs. All that time spent playing along with the records had paid off.
There was an instrumental part where the singer moved to the back of the stage and the band worked it out for a while. I started bringing down my playing, getting quieter and quieter. The rest of the band followed my lead. Eventually I stopped altogether.
There was no sound on the stage, just the murmuring of a restless crowd.
Then I started clapping in time to the beat of the song. The audience started clapping with me. Tens of thousands of people, all clapping along. Amazing. I didn't even know what I was going to do next but I was loving the moment.
One by one I caught everyone's eye onstage, and at an invisible count of four we all slammed into the main riff of "Let There Be Rock." By the time the song finished I was euphoric.
But then something weird happened. The song ended and I was looking around to see what to play next. Right away I heard the opening chords from "Strutter" by Kiss come over the sound system. Was the band starting a cover? No... the music was coming through the PA. The house lights were coming up. We were being hustled off the stage.
The concert is over? What's going on?
Apparently Brian Johnson had stormed off the stage in disgust. My crowd interaction had rubbed him the wrong way somehow. He wasn't even around backstage. Apparently he was furious. One of the women in the band had to explain to me.
She told me, "Brian was pretty pissed off at you. He said 'What the hell does he think this is, some kind of jam band?'"