Yeah. It's all like that, and better. Stop reading this and go read Luckyshirt's blog. Tell him I said hi.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I don't often talk about dreams, but this one was a doozy.
My wife and I were on a bus of some sort. Who knows where we were going? In the world of dream logic, we may not have been going anywhere. The destination was the bus. Whatever. Oh, and also the bus had drivers in the front and in the back. Which sounds impossible, according to the laws of physics as I understand them. Again - dream logic.
All of a sudden, a familiar face comes onto the bus, a guitar case strapped across his back. It's Marc Maron! What's he doing on the bus? (Why did he have a guitar?) He comes with an entourage. He's there to record a podcast, live on the bus. He's got some huge console that looks like an old reel-to-reel recorder, apparently to help record the show.
The next part of the dream is bizarre. Marc apparently has staged sequences as part of his podcasts. People prance around in costumes, singing choreographed numbers. This is weird. Definitely a WTF moment. (Pun intended.)
The next thing I know, my wife is singing along, delightedly, with the songs. I look at her and I realize that something's wrong.
"You've been taking drugs?!" I say to her, aghast. Her eyes are bright and delirious.
"I feel so good! I never sing anymore," she responds.
"What drugs did you take?"
"Unidentifiable!" she responds in a singsongy voice.
and ... that's all I remember. So if you're reading this, Marc Maron, you're not allowed in my dreams anymore until you apologize for getting my wife high on the dream bus.