Looking back on dreams, I could never say for sure if there was music. Yet in reality- there was always music. From my computer. From my iPod. From speakers in bars and malls and elevators. Passing cars with obnoxious bass. The moments when there is music feel the most real. Right now I can look around my room, I see my books stacked on my subwoofer, a bottle of water over half-empty, a bamboo plant that is struggling, and a glass that recently held a small amount of Pepsi. Oh. And I hear Deerhoof.
Now back to the beginning. The answer was music. That changed last night (or the night before). I had stayed up until 4am determined to finish a jigsaw puzzle I began around 9 or so. Finally giving up on the bushes and sky, sleep overtook me.
I dreamed.
There was some sort of show or performance going on. What was going on, I can't remember (I need to be more determined in writing these as they happen and not listening to the voice that says, "You'll remember, go back to sleep.") Either way, I knew the show was being hosted by myself and a charming brunette. Her name? No idea. For all I know she could be the sister I never had. Only not since I feel like there was an attraction there.
Anyway- at the end of the show we take the stage and decide to play a song. She goes for drums or maybe she was at the guitar. Not sure. I pulled a bass out from behind the curtain. I'm talking true bass. Upright. Giant spike on the bottom. And I played it the way you'd imagine. Hitting the chords with a classic bum-bum-bum-bum-bum as we did our little jazz number. There were words. When she finished the line, "What does the ear say?" I sung the answer in true blues fashion. Only I forgot my line. I kept ad libbing. The ear said a different thing each time my part came.
People began to leave. I awoke feeling very frustrated. I knew my line. Why had I forgotten it?
But there we go. Once I have a concrete tool to distinguish between dreams and reality, the dream world catches on.
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