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From | Popdude@aol.com |
Subject | # 9 Dream |
Date | Wed, 27 Jun 2007 17:57:56 EDT |
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B. Thomas:
<<Sorry, just another email about Macca -- delete if you don't wanna
read it...
I had a dream about Paul McCartney last night. Some kind of dinner
party at a house of his, a really big, nice house, and everything was
going along great until I tried to talk to him about his album Memory
Almost Full, at which point, people at the party started looking at
each other uncomfortably, looking down at their shoes, coughing into
their fists, that sort of thing. Even Paul sorta bristles, "Aww, mate,
you don't really want to talk about that polished turd, do ya?" and
then everyone sorta smiles an a few people let the uneasiness pass
and then break into jokes about it, laughing a little. The mood is
broken, except there are still a few people at the party who are now
glaring at me. One woman is shaking her head from side to side,
as if to say "I can't believe you brought up that album...." and then
some other stuff happens and I wake up.
True story.
Bryan>>
How funny, I had a dream last night, too. Vivid one. I was in Los Angeles
and was waiting for a bus. The bus came and it was yellow. After it picked
me up, it took me to my destination. I don't remember what that destination
was exactly, because my dream was interrupted when I got up to use the
facilities.
After I fell back asleep, it was back to the dream. I got off the bus and
then got into a cab. We drove and drove and drove, that cabbie and me. He
mentioned something about some Rhino reissue sounding like a polished turd and
I thought he said "Polish turd" and then he made some joke about it being a
turdski. The cabbie and me had a good laugh about that. He then shit in my
ear and I hit him in the head with a plate, much like Murry and Brian Wilson.
Remember that story? Hoo boy, that was a hot one!
Then some other stuff happened and I woke up.
John B.
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