Upon reaching home last night, the undeniable aroma of something burnt danced its way into my nostrils. Why is SO making toast at 7:30 pm? Aoh…not toast….seemingly he misread the cooking instructions for rice…he thought it said boil for however long it takes you to play a few Paul westerburg songs on your guitar….grrrr so out we went to get some microwave rice instead, but imagine my surprise when upon return, the flat smelt like a tinned tuna had been smeared all over the walls. Never trust rice, it’s fickle…and if you reheat it after cooking you can die from bacillus cereus poisoning. Having said that, pilau rice is delicious. Why cant I make rice at hone that tastes like that?
Sleep is important to me. I’m someone who needs 9 hours a night or I can’t function. My sleeping has been likened to the proverbial log, but not these past few weeks. Anxiety and neck pain have hijacked my slumber time and I’m just about ready ti admit defeat and see a gp cos I’m perma-knackered and have been late for work every day for weeks. I mentioned this to SO but I was greeted with the information that I’m whingeing over nothing and he can’t remember the last night he slept right through and that he gets up every night for a wander because he can’t sleep…well sorry but just because HE thinks thats normal doesn’t mean I have to accept it.
Anyway I found myself all bundled up in fetal position snoozing away when a dream descended. At a festival I went off alone shopping but when I took the bus back to the chalet I forgot to pick up two coats and two shipping bags as I left…so I did the only thing a girl can do in such a situation; I went shoe shopping. In the shoe shop some weirdness happened and I was being whisked away by the store manager and his friend in their black car…this didn’t phase me but when I voiced concern I wouldn’t get to see a band play that evening and they assured me they had no intention of missing it. Not quite sure where we drove but we rocked up to the gig venue later but I had to hold the womans hand because it was pitch black and we had to go through a weird blue door in the middle of nowhere. When we wound up the stairs we came out in this amazing grand hall with multiple levels. I was told to be quiet because we were directly underneath the stage ( must have been a very high stage brain…nice one) so this woman Angie seemed strangely find of me and after a few conversations told Steve ( the shoe shop owner) that they should let me write a couple of pages of review about the festival in their magazine. I said I should write it with SO because he would be better at it than me then when asked if it was cos he had to be in control I said Er no it’s because he knows all the songs, the types of guitars they play, every band member old and new, who played on which album etc etc and all I know is how I feel and whether I like it! So I was asked why I would need to know the other stuff, surely what I felt and thought was more important (oh sure TO ME but not to any readers dear). So in this basement hall place complete with chandeliers and siamese cats, there came a gathering of musical bigwigs, the festival organisers, the other bands and their families and friends, the producers….and then there was me. I wandered off up to the next level to hear a bit better what was going on on the stage, when I stumbled upon my two shopping bags, contents partially strewn across a bench. I couldnt quite believe that someone else would have identical shopping, so i scooped everything up and carried it off, only to catch Angie in the corner of my eye madly waving for me to come back to them…so after attempting to scale the wrong spiral staircase I finally got back to them and said what happened about the shopping. Then things got a bit weird.
I assumed they wouldnt believe me and chuck me out for stealing but no, they took my side and some crazy-assed brawl ( in almost silence through reverence for the band playing above) I ran, being the weedy coward I am but you can only run for so long from people stronger and faster than you so I was caught up and struck to the ground, but just as I figured that was probably the last I’d see of consciousness before I woke up in A & E then Angie looked at me as she was fending off some attackers, then I don’t know, something, hmmm, some kind of light exploded midway between us and all of a sudden everyone was calm again.
We sat back down with the cats ans listened to the end of the gig. After – I found SO outside and introduced him to Angie and Steve – trying to explain about the underground palace beneath the stage, i even showed him but he wasn’t impressed…nor was he impressed with the final scene in the dream which was a sand-ball fight – where sand took on the consistency of snow and could be hurled at people.
There was a little more, something about shampoo and ears and airplanes and kisses but none of that made any sense because my brain finally realised I was supposed to be getting out of bed some time ago. I woke up wondering what happened to those coats.
In short – there was no fire, nothing was really lost. I love that album though.