Just last week I was complaining that my dreams were too anxious, too freaky, too ridden with dark messages. Does anyone have good dreams? I wondered. Do people still dream about fun adventures, flying through the sky with long-dead pet ponies, singing with the voice of an angel? A puppet angel? Last year or so, right before I got laid off, I dreamed I was the bass player for the Clash.
But picture it: a trip to Cuba with your parents and your husband. A lovely vacation where you will stay in a small, not-too-luxurious hotel. Beach and waves of blue ocean and hot weather! Mmmm! OK now picture your husband as DAVID BOWIE!! (sorry Michael)
David Bowie was very tired after our long journey. We checked into the hotel and my dad was pissed that the room on the ground floor was not available – it’s his favourite. We got rooms on the 3rd floor, which was OK with me as long as my parents weren’t right next door because c’mon! David Bowie!
When we got to the room, David said, “I want some 24 carat brandy.” Then he ordered some from room service and fell asleep flopped on the bed. The room service dude brought us a very expensive looking bottle of brandy and told me to put out a mug containing three tablespoons of sugar and some water mixed together. This would thwart the mice that would be coming to our room as soon as they smelled the brandy. I did so. Then I tasted the brandy. It was just homemade wine in a fancy bottle. I heard the mice scurrying to our room as soon as I uncorked it.
A Christmas card from Courtney Love was also delivered to the room. She had started working for some company, in the warehouse, I think, and it was a company Christmas card, from “The owners: Darren, Doug and Bob” and then at the bottom was a handwritten note from Courtney, explaining how she’s doing so much better, straightened out, flying right, etc. I sure hope that’s true.
I decided to go shopping. So I left David in the hotel room, still asleep, and flew back to Vancouver. I ended up on East Hastings street, at a shop that sold cool toys and stickers and things. I bought 12 sheets of stickers that said “Rock On!” They were $1 apiece. The boy I was buying them from said, “Why are you buying so many Rock On! stickers?” and I said, “Because they’re cool!” So he and I went to the Cambie and had beer.
For the record, I had no cheese before bed.