Last night's dream 8/16/09

Last night I dreamt I was on stage with Kelly Clarkson. She was belting out Stairway to Heaven and I was playing the bass and I forgot the notes. I was standing there in front of a stadium full of people. So full that people just looked like little dots of color, like confetti. A sea of moving confetti whistling and clapping and yelling, "I LOVE YOU KELLY!" over and over. I plucked at a few strings like I knew what I was doing. The song came to an end after 7 minutes and 46 seconds and Kelly shot me a death look and as she stormed off the stage she flipped me the bird. I unplugged my bass and slunk meekly off the stage trying to prepare for the ass-whipping Kelly was sure to give me. When I got backstage there was a big party going on and Kelly was in the center of it all! She was drinking champagne and eating what looked like cocktail wienies wrapped in Pillsbury dough. I thought, "Flaky crust!" and headed for the dressing room that the backup band shared. As I was walking past the drummer she grabbed me and pulled me next to her. "And this B-autch!" she crowed, "FORGETS the bass line for Stairway!" and she shrieks with laughter. I chuckle a bit too and shake my head. Then I punch her in the face and stand there chuckling a bit more and shaking my head a little bit more too for effect. Everyone is stunned for about 4 seconds and then the little group that had been our audience erupts into shocked and delighted laughter. I think, "What has our society become? What have I BECOME?" Then I punch the face of the guy nearest me and turn to storm off with what I hope is dramatic dignity. As I turn and lift my right foot to start the storm, my foot in mid stride, knee raised, shoulder starting to dip, I freeze. There stands Kelly. Blocking my dramatic exit. Deflating my dignity. Taking the wind out of the sails of my storm. My mouth hangs open. I raise a hand...as if to say...but nothing comes to mind. I am frozen in the amber of Kelly's death stare. Through gritted teeth she smears out murderously, "I. Should. Fire. You. You. $@*(@. Lazy. Cockroach." I remain suspended like some horror movie puppet girl. "I. Should. Fire. You." she venomously seethes her mouth still clenched shut much like my butt happens to be. "I. Should. But...." and there is a pause of nearly 15 seconds. Time for most of the crowd to grow extremely uncomfortable, although, for me it was only just beginning to feel like an accurate amount of time to instill the proper sense of impending hope and doom. "Oh, what the heck!" She squeals all bubblegum and lip gloss, "We ALL make mistakes! Now you learn that darned bass line, you rascal!" she continues in that teen pop slightly creepy upbeat poppy pop star way. "Where's the champagne and pork rinds?" she yips and she's off. The crowd flows after her like rats after that Pied guy. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a music score and start humming in earnest.