Curious dream

Occasionally dreams don’t make any sense, no matter how hard you think about them. This one has me puzzled. Music in general is important to me, but beyond that, I can’t see any semblance to my life. I guess I thought about producing a short movie about Robert Johnson once; it wasn’t very serious. It seems appropriate here, anyway.

I was in Robert Plant‘s body. I entered a large room with hundreds of rock musicians, sitting at folding tables and facing each other through dividers. I sat across from a guitarist. He wasn’t familiar to me, a relatively obscure musician popular on the local scene. We talked, and I asked what we were doing here. Everybody in the room turned to the main table, raising their hands. They wanted an answer, too. It was the early development of a movie. I started to stand, saying “maybe it’s Ron Wood‘s biography.” I laughed hysterically, falling to the floor.

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