In Dreams

I had a dream last night that Monika was involved in a production of Dark Side of the Moon.

Now, the show was billed as Pink Floyd, but it was like one of those tours of the The Platters or The Temptations, where none of the big names of the group were there. Roger Waters wasn’t there and neither was David Gilmour, in fact, I don’t think any of the actual band members were there at all. I had the distinct impression that they were all performers who helped the band out on previous tours or in the studio.

It was in a dingy auditorium where the staff was strangely absent. It turns out they forgot the snow machine, so they had to bring in huge dirty mounds of the stuff to place between the audience and the performers. (I flashed to staff members stomping about in the woods outside, looking for some slush.) The idea was that the ice would melt slowly over time, gradually revealing the band. It didn’t work out that way, as the snow was mostly dirty and slow to melt.

My wife and I were pleased that the show opened with Monika, but she wasn’t singing a Floyd song. As far as I can tell, it was Guns N’ Roses’s “Paradise City,” but with lyrics about how Monie slept with a girl who slept with a girl who slept with Roger Waters. That was apparently her connection to the band.

For some reason, the entire audience had copies of the lyrics and we all flipped through it as she sang. I clearly remember feeling annoyed with the noise from the shuffling papers.

The show was gawdawful and we were torn between leaving and staying to support Monika, who was actually quite good, by the way. (Her “Paradise City” was thoughtful and nostalgic, with a hint of tragedy. When I woke this morning, it made me think of Jerry Orbach singing “Try to Remember” from The Fantasticks.)

Worse, they never turned the lights down, perhaps in the hope that the lights would melt the snow. I felt trapped, although Aly managed to escape by faking a phone call. I remember having to defend her seat against some scrawny, dirty-faced kid in a wife beater. I don’t know what I said to him, but I feel bad about it.

If they ever got to any Floyd songs, I don’t know. They were in the middle of some elaborate GWAR-like set piece when Julia woke me up.

Poor kid had a temperature.

Apparently fever dreams are catchy.

UPDATE:  No, I don’t intend to dreamblog every day. I usually do not have memorable dreams, but I thought this one was worth sharing.

Oddly enough, this morning, my coffee lady told me that Roger Waters is going to be in town this weekend performing, shit you not, Dark Side of the Moon. I swear I had not heard of this. No ads, no reviews, no references from snarky DJs.  Spooky.