race to sleep

On any given day I couldn't care less about telling stories about dreams, or hearing about peoples dreams. It's never really interested me, and why should it? It never happened, and probably never will. Although some dreams are just hilarious, why should other people care about my or your subconscious? This is probably the same reason why I never read fiction novels. I crave knowledge, and although I have a very vivid imagination, I don't really put a lot of interest into things that will never occur. Is that lame? Maybe.

Well, today is not one of those days because I have two dreams I simply have to get off my chest.

The other night I dreamt that I was walking the streets with Bike. It was later in the evening and we were just out for a stroll. I noticed one woman really checking me out and following us. This woman looked exactly like Jen from Hells Kitchen.
Yes, that Jen. Except she was a TTC employee and on her name tag it read CLING. I have no idea what that means, but moving along. We talked and she was being really touchy and inappropriate. I threatened to call the TTC office and report her behavior, but she was persistent. We began walking quickly through some mall and she was running after us! I was honestly terrified. We thought we'd lost her in some backyard, until I got smoked in the head by a can of Five-Alive. It was CLING, once again.
The strangest part about this dream wasn't really about sex-hungry TTC employees, but rather citrus fruit. Every time we thought we'd outrun her, I was assaulted by a flying piece of citrus fruit. That is the jist of that dream.

Now, the next dream is more of a personal nightmare. Some very close friends, especially my band, know about this dream because it scares the shit out of me. I have it about once a month and it never gets any better. I dream that my drums slide away from me while performing in front of large groups of people.

Basically, try to imagine playing the drums on top of a sheet of ice and every time you hit something it slides further and further away from you. Not only this, but everything is at really strange heights. Cymbals will be nearly eight feet in the air and my snare drum will be five feet to the left. I never play my drum kit, and something terrible always happens. During last nights dream I just gave up during a performance and decided sing a solo version of Oh Come All Ye Faithful acapella, except with tonnes of delay on my vocals, which sounded terrible and nobody clapped.

I wish I could express how much I hate these dreams. The funny thing is, I've experienced things like this when playing in reality. I remember when opening for The Spades last year, my kick drum (the big one) slid around the stage to the point where I couldn't even produce sound from it because it wasn't attached to the pedal. I would have to pull this 50-pound beast back to me at every chance, even mid-song.
And that is that.