Music Dreams

So sometimes I dream about a piece of music that doesn't exist - Like once I dreamt I was caught in a house in a tornado, and the debris flying around outside had smashed all the windows and the wind blew this 12 inch double pack through the broken window. It was an EP by Fade (Chris Fortier and Neil Kolo). It was 4 different instrumental tracks, one on each side of the 2 discs - it was a full release, not a promo, with a beautiful printed green sleeve. I had this dream in 1997 when Fade were at their absolute peak (IMHO) and I was excited beyond words that the universe had delivered this double pack to me, and I couldn't wait for the tornado to end so I could listen to the tracks - I never got that far though. I was pretty devastated when I woke up and suddenly this Fade double pack EP was no longer in my life.

I also remember one where I was second hand record shopping and found a promo of "Holly" by Republica that had a 13 minute extended mix based on the Full Mix, and a dub. It even came in that distinctive Deconstruction records yellow promo sleeve with the rounded corners - and again I was pretty crushed when I woke up.

Well I just had another one. In the dream it was 1992, and I was living with my current flatmate and an old and dear friend, whom in reality I'm reluctantly not in contact with anymore. My flatmate had just bought 300 pills (!) and we were organising stuff for the weekend, we were total weekend warriors. So anyway whilst we are organising everything I am also reading a magazine - it was kind of like DJ mag was in 1992, but it wasn't DJ mag - and the track that was at the top of all the buzz charts was this track by U2, but it was a remix by Todd Terry. As I was reading, the track was also playing on the stereo - I can't recall a single bar of it now, but it was awesome, REALLY awesome - the chorus was something along the lines of 'I'll be there for you' and the remix used the full vocal, and it had this big Euro-style bass-line like the one in "Rhythm Is A Dancer" and was the most uplifting thing you'd ever heard in your life. I just woke up from this dream - I wish I could remember how the actual song went. . .

Gender Logistics

So I had somehow body-swapped with this woman - it wasn't a permanent arrangement, it was more like we were taking a holiday in each others body. I was standing at the sink in the bathroom of the house I grew up in - it was a rather luxurious bathroom, it was carpeted, and one whole wall was covered in mirrored tiles - and I was looking at my new form in the wall of mirrors. This woman's body I was in had a massive conehead - I was playing with my hair trying to devise a way to hide my new massive forehead, as she wore her hair tied back and I considered it quite unflattering. I decided I was going to cut a fringe in and cut the rest of it short and bleach it so I would like Marilyn Monroe (not that she had a fringe, but that kind of length). Of course, if I was really borrowing someone else's body I would never entertain making such drastic changes to it, but in my dream I was quite unfazed about giving her a radical makeover before giving her body back.

As I was picturing my new hairstyle - I realised that I didn't know how to apply makeup, and I was going to need to learn straight away because I had no intention of rocking some plain jane look, but I thought I would shower first so I could get started bleaching my hair. It was then I realised, Oh wait, I have a vagina - am I supposed to wash it when I have a shower? I don't imagine it will respond too well to being lathered in soap, but am I supposed to get all up inside it with the water? It dawned on me that I was going to have to ask someone - "How do I wash my vagina?"

Awkward.

The Scars of Stigmata

I had stigmata, well sort of. . .

So I was in this public bathroom and i was washing my hands, and the receptionist from my workplace was also at the adjacent sink washing their hands. In the centre of the palms of my hands I had these horrendous scars that were from being nailed to a cross, they were completely healed, but really gruesome looking, really deep craters in the middle of each palm. They were my dark secret that somehow no-one knew about, despite being large and clearly visible(!) and I was trying to hide them as I washed my hands. I had to wash them very carefully to make sure that I got right into the all the crevices of the wounds, as a result the receptionist from my work noticed them and started questioning me about them. I don't remember what I said in return, if anything, I just remember the feeling of total and utter humiliation that someone had noticed the scars, and knew that I had been crucified.