Posting from my bizarre subconscious: · Aug 9, 11:15 AM
I have periods where I dream intensely and in a vivid state and others where I seem to recall little if anything at all from my slumber. The best of times are when I am in transition and I can awake with one crystal clear recollection firmly in my mental grasp.
You, John Darnielle, are the star of my most recent dream.
I walked into a room where a Mountain Goats set was planned to take place in an hour or so. I was early to the gig as I habitually am. Why I desire to be at a club long before there is any action there has always been a mystery. I found a place to plop down my haunches while I took in the crowd filtering in from the shadows. Strangely, I recognized the faces of many of the women entering the hall. There was my seventh grade crush. My date to the junior prom. It went on and on like this until practically every women from my early education that I found remotely appealing was in the room.
These were not typical Mountain Goats fans. To be honest, I considered myself a more intelligent person than the bulk of them and certainly more sophisticated listener. (Neither of which might be actually true but I am hoighty toighty like that.) What was going on???? How could they want to see the same artist I so enjoy and admire?
You then shuffled out. Wiped your brow, and began to delicately trace a guitar figure. A soaring swell of voices rose up behind you and out into the light stepped a chorus of young children. All elementary aged. As the eyes lit up of all the women in the crowd in anticipation I realized that you had invited a collection of kids to perform with you that also happened to be the offspring of all of my former objects of my affection.
You tugged gently on my jacket and drew me near grinning all the while. Once close, you whispered in my ear “that my friend, is how you fill the crowd with hot women in their thirties.”
I laughed (maybe out loud) and then woke up.
— John Foster
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