Earthquake

Some large old building, possibly hotel. Daytime, outside on roof patio, work-related type of gathering; people sitting, drinking, etc. Somehow water is getting poured on these electric appliances near/under the tables, similar to heat lamps. I remark this seems dangerous. Turns out to not be an accident, but a plan of JC's I'm told. I'm not relieved.

Shortly after, somewhere in front of the building, a large cloud of white smoke starts to billow up, and there's general concern and fear. I move to the edge of the roof top to see what has happened. As I view the street below, everything starts to shake: moderately violent earthquake begins. Minor panic on the roof, but no one is really moving.

One woman in particular starts to rant in terror, I feel close to her so I get up and start trying to calm her, and then (wisely, I feel) start to take her back inside to head down the stairs to get out. As we go, I remind her that even though the quake is still going, I try and relieve her by telling her that at least it's not going to get worse. It's difficult to get down the stairs, I'm trying to leap across this wide stairwell to save time. Not sure what floor we are on, but I collapse for some reason, possibly exhaustion. The woman looks at me, devastated. Then I feel like I'm looking for self-pity, so I find a way to get back up and not give up on our escape. At the same time, I'm wondering what's happened - thinking maybe the roof came in on us and we died and now I'm experiencing some inner 'dream.'

After I get up though, now she is on the ground, and not playing around, terribly ill; dead, in fact, rather quickly. She transforms in these dying moments, becoming a great deal smaller and also going completely bald and white. Horrifying. It all happens quickly, I'm wondering if I should carry her out still at the same time realizing I'm now dealing with a dead body (of sorts.)

There's another sequence afterwards in which I'm on the streets in Boston possibly, with no money. I'm wondering how I'm going to survive without any, and remember I still have my guitar and things, so perhaps I'll have to go play in the park or square for change, playing for my life now basically. There's a young African-American woman who is also in the same financial boat. I'm suggesting to her what she can do, who she might go to, when I realize I may as well just take her in and give her a place to stay, since I have nothing to lose either. Sitting on a stoop, I describe how we'll both have to make extreme cutbacks to survive.

Shortly after I'm inside somewhere, a room right off the street, still daytime. There's a bed I attempt to get some quick rest on, but getting in, it's way too short for my height. Some people (SR) are around and discuss going to get some unhealthy food.

Fridge Cam

At some type of party, possibly at CA's house, but somewhat reminiscent of Queens Village. I'm going to the refrigerator to get a drink; CA says wait and checks his mobile phone. He has a small spy cam inside the fridge networked to the internet, so he can check inside the fridge from anywhere i.e. his cell. He sees what is in there and where, and then asks me to get him something specific.

The Evil Wizard

Outside somewhere, nighttime, with my cousin Tom and a group of 4-5 older, burly men. We are planning to break into a nearby jail to free one of our wrongly imprisoned cohorts. It's a dangerous plan, involving me and my cousin used as spies/infiltrators - doesn't seem like the best plan. Something happens during the huddle and the plan is postponed - I'm thankful due to the potential danger of it.

We end up in a crowded pub, blending in as if we hadn't been just planning that A-Team type adventure minutes before. People are getting beers and talking - I feel the need to urinate and head towards the back room to find the WC. There is a bathroom and also a back storeroom, kind of a dark garage/kitchen. I urinate in some woefully inadequate receptable, or two, and a bit on the floor also. Some things can't be controlled.

I'm coming out of the back room, into a small lighted room with a few tables, that leads back into the main darker pub area. There is just one man seated, old but sharp, longish white hair; a disturbing presence clad in black. He starts to say something to me before I turn around to see him properly. He quotes some old tapes I'd recorded with my cousin (in real life) 20 years ago. It shocks me to hear someone know these tapes in detail, and I search for a explanation. I seem to remember Tom telling me he had played some of our old music to a guitar student or two. As I'm thinking that, the old man takes on the form of a teenager, so I assume this is such a student. But there's something wrong about all this, i.e. the shape-changing. We exchange a few words but I'm entirely convinved that this is some sort of message to me from supernatural forces. Dark foreboding. The student/old wizard in disguise leaves quickly.

I go to follow, into the crowded bar. Cross paths with Tom, I tell him what happened, ask him about this particular student he may have had (who had given me a name.) Tom confirms partially but incredulously says that that boy actually died 6 months ago - I couldn't have just seen him. At first I think he's joking with me, but he's not.

We feel the need to hunt down the shape-shifter 'demon' before he gets too far, to bring resolution to this. We leave and drive around the area. Now very late at night, in some suburban neighborhood we follow the trail to a small, flat grassy field. In the middle of it, we find some bones, skeletal remains presumably of the boy. It feels like the wizard in black took the form of the dead boy, but the form only lasted a short time until the body was entirely used up. The foreboding spirit escaped.

In another separate dream, there's a sequence at night where I'm at first driving through a bad neighborhood, then walking. There's a long dark alley that seems to lead somewhere well lit, but it's a 8 foot drop down to the concrete from where I am. I drop down and begin to nervously walk towards the light. There seemed to be a body slumped in a dark corner when I dropped down, dead or homeless or both, but I ignore it and keep moving. I get to the end but the light is just this small room, a dead end, so I have to go back - frightened. As I head back down the alley, one side of this long bench/divider, there's a second body lying flat out on the ground, possibly blood around it. I bypass it, but shortly after, I hear that body get up very quickly - someone was faking - and the sound of the body's speed in the concrete alley is very jarring - horror. Simultaneously, this malevolent person says "Having a bad day?" mockingly. I can't get back up the 8 foot wall quickly. The villain approaches...

The Biggest Tongue in Dreamland

In a house, I'm eager to cut off some of my hair (hair style circa nearly 20 years ago...) I enter the bathroom with scissors and begin cutting. Somehow this progresses to cutting off the literal tip of my tongue, which at the time doesn't seem too destructive - more cosmetic. But I make a second more tragic cut too far, and there is severe damage - blood and loss of form; some major vessel has been cut. The bleeding stops to reveal the truncated tongue, with a hole in it (or two) revealing where the vessel should have continued on. Oddest of all, this depressing tongue (that was a pun) modification causes it to intermittently expel small bursts of flame, which I must douse within my mouth. Great anxiety and concern...sense of all being irretrievably damaged. Then thinking of confessing problems to someone knowledgable...problems go back many, many years...

[Awakening - terribly disturbed by dream. Very odd synchronicity on logging in after waking, however: my spare copy of B. Kliban's The Biggest Tongue in Tunisia sold during the night on amazon.com...]

After over a year hiatus, I've decided to return to the dream blog. I've also decided to turn comments on. Be kind.

I, Ghost

In some dark house, investigating some type of death/crime scene. One or two other investigators with me...something involving a stairway and a statue-like woman. Then - I appear to be a ghost in the house, myself. I'm in a dark cellar, looking for the exit. Someone has seen me - as a ghost - and I need to flee because ghosts should not be caught. I'm trying to get outside, but when I find one exit, it appears to lead to a lower, identical basement instead. Finally I get outside into the sunlight. This is good, because I discover that, as a ghost, I cannot be seen in direct sunlight. But I could be seen in darker areas/shadows, so I'm glad (relatively) to be out in the sun and subsequently totally invisible. As I walk down the street, I'm able to fly up 20-30 feet into the air and hover. There is a mixture of pleasant anonymous solitude, and terrible alienation/loneliness.

Rice, Bus, Private Novak, and Beatles Reunion

I'm at a crowded cafeteria/restaurant/party. Everyone is getting on various buffet lines. There's someone here I recognize (not in real life), he's a musician I apparently played bass for years ago. He thinks I won't remember who he is, like I've gone on to other things and he hasn't. Another sycophantic bandmate of his is there and graciously gives me a small bowl of rice. They seem proud to be around me; we joke around a bit. I look for a seat at a long table and find a spot near a window. Very crowded table, mostly women, but commentator Robert Novak is also seated next to me. There's a window within a window that is open right here, and as a result the place is swarming with birds. We need to close it...I make some humorous remark to Novak about his little secret spot here, calling it "Private Novak." Eventually most of the people and the table itself are gone, and I'm sitting with some women. There's an awkward silence which I break with a humorless "So..."

There's another sequence on a touring bus with friends including Karl. I'm moving about, being mischievous. There's some type of computer in one seat that controls an LED text display on the side of the bus. I try to come up with something silly to have on the side of the bus, and decide on the intentionally grammar-challenged "We Am The Bus."

Later, I'm trying to remember the elements of this dream so I can blog it. I come up with three elements: "Rice, Bus, Private Novak" to hopefully stay and jar my memory later. But at some point I do dream that I start to blog this, but I only remember Rice, Bus, and someone else.

I'm at the Grove or Farmer's Market where, surprisingly, there's a Beatles reunion concert happening outside. As I approach the area, I remember there's only McCartney and Starr still living, so it will probably be more of a McCartney show. Paul is playing bass (possibly Rickenbacker) and joking about, miming to a record badly or something. Ringo is not seen but is presumably on drums. I find an area to sit not far from the stage, it's crowded but not what you would think considering. I don't recognize the song. Later in an alcove, there's a small boy of unknown ethnicity who is sort of hanging around me - he wants to grow up to be tall. I tell him he has to drink a lot of milk, even though he is of an age at which it may already be too late. There's another fragment later, something about a prank call that ends with "the world of..." and then a hang up without concluding the sentence.

The Healing Festival

I'm outside in some alley behind a row of small apartments, nighttime. Some friends are inside at a party. There's a sort of slight maze getting out of this alley...I overhear a guy on the street nearby, homeless possibly, asking people for band aids or something similar. I remember I have some in my gig bag, so I put some in my pocket in case they're needed. NM is leaving out of the back door of the apartment party, going home. I'm concerned she'll be accosted by the strange man. He is strange, indeed...when I get over to the street, some other people have gathered around him, but at a cautious distance. He's somewhat insane, arms flailing and acting as a menace. Regrettably, he singles me out and grabs me and we struggle a bit. I pull out the band aid from my pocket and offer it as an attempt to ameliorate this situation. He accepts it, examines it, it's not quite what he wanted but will do, says he can "cut it in two" or something similar.

Two Kings

I'm playing some type of video game based on the film King Kong. (In reality I've never played any such game.) The game has complex controls involving both the mouse and the keyboard. While playing, I'm simultaneously reading game instructions, which at one point suggest hitting one or two certain keys to access the "chops" cam. I have no idea what this will be, until I'm able to hit those keys during gameplay, while playing as King Kong. "Chops" mode turns out to be a gameplay camera angle from inside Kong's mouth, which is recognized by an inside view of the ape's fangs and beyond, a view of what is directly in front of his face. The view is rather obsructed between the gnashing teeth and the limited view out of the mouth; mostly, some extreme closeups of an enemy dinosaur are seen, mid-battle. Some other keyboard commands cycle the view to different depths from inside Kong, with strange colored membrane/skins resulting.

Another sequence, some sort of nighttime field trip with many schoolmates and/or current colleagues. The area resembles the shopping mall near Hollywood and Highland. There's a crowded toy store overstocked with a variety of toys, lots of bizarre Star Wars figures of dream origin; aliens, stormtroopers, packs of 6 R2-D2s for some type of target game. Leaving the area, I'm able to coast or slide down a lengthy set of long wide steps instead of walking.

Arriving at a King's X concert with MI. Crowds filing into auditorium, we spot an empty row, only to find it's been reserved. These reservations appear in the form of quarters variously placed along a thin metal bar connecting all the chairs in the row. Exiting the row, I'm holding the bar up or down waiting for someone else to take it from me so I can keep moving (like holding an open door.) We circle around and then back down to find some seats in the front row stage left - MI is smiling, excited by her find. But it appears that those sitting in the front might be hit by water or other projectiles from the stage - someone nearby has a lead apron (dentist's chair style.) We don't seem to have been given anything like that though. The show begins; I'm hoping MI will enjoy the more soulful aspects of the band. There is a strange unknown person playing bass in the band who seems unstable. It's a rather bizarre show, high on operatic style staging and drama. Indeed at one point the front row is doused with water, first from a single glass, then a repeated stream. I'm able to deflect the stream with two cupped hands remarkably well, and Iprotect myself and those seated nearby. MI is on my left and there is an unknown older woman to my right who is...overly friendly.

In another short sequence, I'm viewing a wishlist of MV's on Sweetwater.com. It appears he wants a 5 string Fender sunburst bass: roughly $850. Closer examination reveals the composite picture is misleading; a Fender amp is actually desired.

Find the Chimes

Reading a post from my cousin Tom on the internet. It's a promo for the next show he's putting on at Pisces Cafe. It's a wintertime holiday show and in addition to music there will be a "Find the Chimes" part of the show, where apparently Tom will have hidden some chimes around Babylon and participants will have to find them, to win a prize perhaps. Tom also announces he's changing the name of his performing entity to something very long conglomerated name which includes "the Mothers of Westbury", a play on Zappa's Mothers of Invention band.

Another dream in which I'm in a theatre watching a film with my parents and sister. Some people are talking loudly and it's bothersome. Eventually the offending row moves further ahead somehow, but now my sister is talking out loud in a normal speaking volume. I gently try to correct her, and I vocally demonstrate the difference between quiet whispering and regular speech. She gets upset, but seems remorseful later when she passes me in a lobby area, running out lamenting that she's "a dense girl."

Bad Dudes and a Raging Bull

In some large old house with many other peers, first part is forgotten. Eventually I'm in a room with a few other men and I hear that there may be some invasion of some kind. I immediately hide; no one else does, either they don't take it seriously or they are confused or too fearful to move. Unfortunately, the threat is real. Hiding in a small dark room with some others, eventually the door is opened by a man with a gun who (with others) is taking all the people in the building hostage. We are separated from the women, and forced to sit on the grass outside. There is some terrorizing, i.e. the women are particularly frightened by some gruesome activity revealed by the bad guys (who are all white, 30s.) "Gruesome" entails dismembered bodies, possibly including Lucille Ball's, the sheer audacious horror of which causes some women to scream. Other than that stuff, the bad guys are not so bad, in fact there's immediately some Stockholm Syndrome going on. I ask to use the bathroom and am allowed to go up to the top of the house, the roof in fact, where some young kids are playing. There is some fantastic ending sequence to this whole scene, but it is forgotten. Somehow I escape, and end up in a courtroom at the prosecution of the criminals. An idea is in the air to not testify against them, since the repercussions might mean death if we do.

There is another sequence in which MV and I are talking. He mentions some popular musician and says he doesn't really know him too well. MV has also brought along what amounts to a live, raging bull, which eventually is rather over-sized. Strong, bucking wildly, and dangerous. Reddish brown; woolly mammoth? He's after me and he chases me around an outdoor area, possibly Queens Village, at one point leaping over a car to get at me. Somehow I continue to elude him. I trick him into following me up the steps of the stoop and leaping off the side past me.

There was a sequence a few days ago, in which I have to bring some videos to CD, who is in a meeting in an area not completely dissimilar from his usual one, though it's more house-like than office-like. The videos are on a gray, single stack bookstore-like cart.

Blog About the Blog / Mean Streets

There's a sequence about having this very blog mentioned/reviewed on a related popular web site, resulting in heavy exposure. I'm not sure if this has happened or I'm just telling people about this idea, in the dream. It was a bit strange, dreaming about this dream blog.

A long sequence taking place in an unknown city. In some type of bar or club, there's going to be a robbery and/or some type of assault. A gang of kids (resembling high school) has entered, has "unfinished business" with the owner. Maybe some deal has gone bad. I (and others) decide it's a good time to get the hell out of there before violence starts. Dangerous streets outside; concerned we will be "wrongly" beaten: hate crime. Somehow we navigate through alleys and sidestreets unnoticed. We arrive at this other place like a building or warehouse, and it seems we have found some contraband that the earlier gang had been missing. Since we have it and the buyer is here, we decide to sell it directly and take the money. Unfortunately that gang suddenly shows up and we really can't say anything in our defense, caught red-handed stealing their stuff and selling it.

Miscellaneous

Earlier fragment in which Bob Dylan is somehow involved with the 60's song "Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love In My Tummy." Either he wrote it or took the original and added to it/re-arranged it.

I'm at a gig, looks like HP's band is playing a certain notorious song. There's his son doing the second vocal. HP sounds terrible singing. It's a large band, and I seem to now be directing it, so I ask the younger, African-American in the band to sing a certain part. They run through it and he (and the piece of music) now sounds beautiful, though someone else is critiquing his diction.

This becomes a theater piece rehearsal. There's a lot of men and one female lead. Avant-garde. She's forced to strip naked for this scene. Seems kind of gratuitous, especially in an early rehearsal. Her clothes have become a huge pile of naked Barbie dolls. For the scene, she has to sit in the pile and somehow clothe herself with the dolls. A huge afro wig might help this since the dolls get stuck in it. An understudy also is forced to strip nude, seems self-conscious, particularly when she's in the pile and realizing that when she stands up again, no dolls are going to be magically attached to her/covering her. At some point, my parents arrive in town for a visit.

Later, daytime, sort of Santa Monica Blvd, I'm driving MI's Jeep and get pulled over by a cop. I was going through some intersection where a certain dashboard button was supposed to allow me to cross legally, but it didn't work, and I tell the cop so through my window. I'm having trouble stopping the car parallel to his. He gets out and I hear what I assume to be him loudly expressing amazement that the Jeep has over 200,000 miles on it. I tap the door and say "I take good care of it", but then I realize the cop hadn't said it, must have been someone somewhere else in the scene.

Paul McCartney Comic Book

I'm reading someone's complaints on an internet forum. Apparently, each Beatle has his own long-running comic book, and this person is complaining that the Paul McCartney comic hasn't been very interesting in a long time. Specifically, this reader notes that the comic hasn't used the antagonist/foil character "Nordanius Canus" in some time, with boring results (the Lennon comic and Harrison comic are better regarded by this person.) This Nordanus/Nordanius Canus is sort of like a Lex Luthor villain to McCartney's Superman in the comic. Brief glimpse of the comic, Paul looks somewhat similar to his Yellow Submarine cartoon incarnation, and the comic and main character in general have a pseudo-Victorian feel; Paul's home base is a dark, medieval castle. It's apparent that each Beatle's comic book has an entirely different storyline and approach.

The Dreamed Artwork

Fragments; SK appears to be preparing some of his art to be displayed. I glanced through it, all on roughly 8" x 11" paper. Slightly adolescent but interesting. The word "1984" is written on one. Another depicts single-propeller planes flying towards the viewer. Another sequence, I'm standing at a desk saying goodbye to someone, trying to infer that this is the last time ever - no real response. I turn to walk away, hiding emotion. Playing the guitar extensively, in another fragment.

The Tunnel

In some kind of a subterranean cave tunnel, trying to get through to a certain exit. I'm with this other man in a small open area, when the dim electric lights that go line the tunnel start to flicker. I panic a little about this unforeseen possibility, knowing that if those lights go out, we'll be in total darkness, and may have to feel our way down the passage for who knows how many miles. For a few seconds, I'm frantically looking for a lamp or lighter or anything so we don't get caught in the blackout. But when the lights go out, it's revealed that further down the passage are some concrete stairs leading up, lit by streetlamps from above. I go halfway up the stairs to find a nighttime scene in a deserted parkground area in the suburbs. I'm not as excited to have found an exit as I should be; this doesn't feel like the right one. Nevertheless, I leave the tunnel.

Shortly after, the tunnel exit has become two exits and they resemble the front doors of adjacent NYC borough houses. However, despite that familiar and civilized appearance and feel, these are still the entrances to some unknown underground caverns. I see a teenage boy appear from inside one of the houses, and he's carrying MP. At first there is a general feeling of relief amongst the gathered crowd and myself, as if this indicates some successful rescue, but then the teenager begins to retreat back down the hallway with the cat. I break out of observing role to consciously stop him, opening the screen door and grabbing his arm. I'm successful at rescuing the cat from him, but not before noticing that the boy's arm is in some state of decay, i.e. green and showing bone. Then I notice MI walking away down the hall of the other entrance. She is walking and talking with her dad and too far away to reach.

There was another sequence that involved an appearance by the Incredible Hulk as he appeared on the 1979 TV series. This may be the filming of an episode, but there is a feeling of some actual danger, and in person the makeup on actor Lou Ferrigno looks stranger than it should.

Hendrix in the Classroom

I'm in some type of school. I'm waiting in a second room instead of going into my class. Apparently I'm very late; it's about noon. I might have passed the time reading, or just arrived/woke up late. I finally enter my classroom. There is one teacher, tall African-American, walking around the class, instructing. He may be the aide because there is another older teacher up at the desk in front of the class. I go over to this older teacher and make excuses...the aide told me to wait before entering, etc. This teacher just looks at me (while class continues) and says "You just have to be here..." making my reasons look foolish and irrelevant; I simply was not there.

I see the book being studied and get a peek at some of its complex math equations. I feel confident I can catch up, just need to do the work and study. But then the teacher aide starts walking around the room with a guitar performing "All Along the Watchtower." It's not a great version, similar to Hendrix but not quite. His guitar playing is ok but a bit sloppy. Somehow, this is part of the curriculum.

As the song continues, some students (Pete H. included) sit down at the three upright pianos on one side of the room, and they attempt to play along, miserably. Teacher/Hendrix doesn't seem disturbed (to my surprise); instead, he encourages their atonal, accidental explorations and the song falls apart into cacophony. Finally, though I no longer recognize the tune, everyone settles in on a plodding, looping, C# - B - A - B chord progression to end the piece.

At some other point in another location, I get a phone call from Karl, who wants to rap about a movie he just saw (ROTK.) I'm listening to his voicemail message, but then am able to break in and talk to him directly.

P.S. New Year's Resolution: more dream blogging. I've been terribly negligent and have subsequently forgotten many recent dreams that I meant to write down.

Esoteric Alternatives

I'm in a large library (unlike the one I frequent in waking hours.) High school (and earlier) people figure. I see them as I'm checking out a card catalog; they are seated in a certain area taking some type of advanced test. I wonder why was not invited to take the test; feel left out, underachieving, and that maybe I should be more pro-active and find out how to take the test even though I was not invited. Unsure what test leads to. I'm suddenly distracted by a different area of the library I had not noticed before. The areas have subject signs over them like in a book store. This one area says "Gurdjieff & Mystic Arts" so I go over to it. There is a small case that stands by itself away from the wall, about 4 feet high with Fourth Way books in it. Many volumes of some previously unknown series. Also, a chess set is in the case with the books, for library use I assume. I fancy playing with it, and imagine some people using those pieces, unaware that the game is part of this esoteric school of thought.

Dream Debris

These are some fragments from various remembered dreams of the past few weeks...

In a meeting with GWB, arguing with him and his staff, angrily.

Outside a cafe gig during a break, reunite SC and AS. AS asks if it's cool she's there. Sure. I pretend to introduce the two to each other, jokingly and ironically.

At my parents' house, they are out, but there is a dead body of a young woman left by the door. Almost like left for the trash pickup, but this is inside the front door. She is on her knees, slightly slumped/propped against door.

Sequence where I'm watching (possibly a video of) KM play the bass. He's playing a 5 string fretless. Sounds really good.

Sequence with MI, leaving her family's house late at night. We must exit through a window that resembles Manitou Cliff Dwelling doors (narrow, mid-height, tunnel-like.)

Dylan's Petty Impression / The Superdome

I'm coming in on the second half of a small intimate performance by Bob Dylan. This part is apparently storyteller/Q&A time. Dylan tells the audience a story about Tom Petty, who he worked with in the Traveling Wilburys. It seems one time Dylan and the rest were having some heavy discussion and Petty's tired comment was just (and here Bob did a flawless impression of Petty's voice) "all right all right all right all right all right all right..."

Later, Bob is saying his goodbyes and signing the side of a mattress for his hosts. On one side he's already written "SOLO", the other side I can't see but I assume he writes "TOUR." I start wondering what CDs of his I have around that I can get signed and wouldn't that be cool etc.

Next part of the dream takes place in Boston, with my family. It's very cold; we question why we came. My sister is unhappy. Accommodations are limited so I lie down directly between my parents; as not to favor either.

This leads to a late arrival at an airport and I'm running behind everyone else and can't find them. I ask some clerks where my flight (train) is but am told the doors are closing. I find my way to a waiting area that resembles the Superdome, but while it is packed, it is not unclean and chaotic. My friends in the band FC area seated in a front row, waiting. They don't see me at first so I decide to fake a magical, sudden appearance by jumping from above them right in front, like I fell out of the sky. I continue my antics then by pretending that I'm the first humanoid ever, crawling out of the primordial muck, and I add to the dramatization of this imaginary historical event with guttural growls. By the end of this, I think only BA still remains seated watching. A security type is also watching, and he suggests I go straight to a hospital.

The train finally pulls in (plane is forgotten) and the strangely small awkward doors open for me. In case I'm uncertain if this is the right one, the engineer uses the PA to loudly announce, "Stupid, this is it," as if the entire travel center knows I'm late and lost. I board the train/subway car to watch the driver suck tobacco through some type of device that is partly his mouth and partly a dentist's drain. I try to mimic the action as a goof.

Later in the dream, I recount the humorous Dylan anecdote to MI. I also open MV's bass case to find that he has swapped out with a similarly unique 6 string electric guitar.