Death Hotel

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.

Posted by philip at 08:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm working on an assembly line with a bunch of guys who all look the same.

They're all clones from the carpet factory. They were sent over because the original humans kept quitting the assembly line. In fact, I'm the only real human left in the whole plant. Everyone else is one of these carpet factory guys that roam around like zombies.

It occurs to me that they're only keeping me around because they're planning to eat my brain and turn my body into a rug. I'm trying to think of ways to get out of there.

Apparently there is some legal technicality that will allow me to kill all the clones. Something like, they can legally be suffocated, but not poisoned. Or is it the other way around? I'm trying my hardest but I can't remember.

Then the dream changes and I'm having a whole bunch of sex with a married woman in the back seat of someone's car.

Posted by philip at 03:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I dreamed I was back working at the bookstore in the mall. I opened the cash register and a very small three-piece jazz combo was performing inside the till.

I leaned over for a better look. For a second, I saw myself from the band's perspective--this great big huge eyeball swooping down to peer at them. Then it went back to my point of view again.

I was looking at this little jazz band and thinking I had to sneeze really bad. Then I woke up.

Posted by philip at 03:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)