A Strange Dream I Had

I had a strange dream the other night.I was at a show in a small town. This was obvious by the fact that the band was playing on an outdoor,screened in veranda. The band reminded me of Berurier Noir, wearing clockwork orange gear, but with Chi Pig singing. Very serious stuff. Then there came a song where the band just stopped in the middle of the song and calmly set down their instruments and slowly start to file out of the porch into the night. Chi stays there, frozen in space, staring down the crowd with his best solo era Rollins gaze. As if on cue the crowd starts to leave too. After a couple of minutes every one is gone except me. I've had a couple and I've got a full one, very comfortable perched on the picnic table. Minutes pass and I realize that his eyes are on me staring me down so hard his eyebrows look like they are about to slam shut like a bear trap. I begin to become aware of someone to the side behind me. This petite woman in glasses and all kinds of tats ,approaches me and tells me I have to leave. I ask why.S he says that its the artists usual grand finale, representing each persons solitary fight against madness. Once he has stared down every one of his "demons" he can exit through the back of the hall and everyone will be allowed to re enter the club. I tell her that its the loopiest thing I've ever heard of. She insists that I have to leave to conclude the performance. I ask her if closing and covering my eyes while he made his escape would do. Finally she tells me shes willing to give me an autographed copy of a book written about Chi. I start to laugh and tell her that I'll give in and leave. As I exit through the front door the crowd has formed a wide arc and begin applauding. Confused I look for a escape route through the throng. They advance and begin to slap me on the back and rub my head. An acquaintance I don't recognize but somehow feel comfortable with,tells me I have set a new best time at 6:38 ...and I awake to this time on the clock.

Now the moral of this story might be don't take yourself or others too seriously. And the moral might be don't eat greasy shit before going to bed which my buddy Will blames strange dreams I remember on. Either way I wouldn't mind finding that club, nice fresh air, good beer and the smell of BBQ.