In my dream last night I followed a psychedelic rock band practising in an attic with an ornate round stainedglass window. They rehearsed in there minus their drummer, eventually the practice wound down to it's conclusion, amps buzzed, feet clicked off pedals, and hands scampered to unplug them. They were now going to go on tour. The guitarist stopped tue metronome, smiled and said "perfect timing". They descended to the ground on zip lines and fireman poles, they didn't have room on their skateboards to take me along so I had to walk behind their tour longboards and skateboards. I recall each skateboard had a long board with their amp, pedals and gear snugly packed in little sainsburys bags. I kept pace with the kazoo player, she proudly had her instrument tied around her neck and wore a floral dress gliding along the ground on a hoverboard , "Where's your drummer?" I asked, "oh, he's up there", clouds swirled like the wizard of Oz and a cut storm cloud like paper animation was slowly edging in showering the ground beneath it. Astride and atop of the cloud perched on a bike was their drummer, the wheel carved like an axis mounted and grinding into the vapour nimbus turning around. Instead of a bell he had a snare that when he rolled with sticks it made a Clap of thunder , he was wearing a biggles style helmet like those folks who flew biplanes in old war films. He didn't have arms rather his mustache flowed into his sleeves and became appendages like wispy smoke creatures in an anime. He remarked and shouted with glee "I would say.. i could see my house, but I already passed it a mile away". The band laughed surreal like in unison as if in a cartoon.
We passed crowds animals and insects in various regalia and they cheered the band on, the kazoo player suddenly exclaimed "omg look at that", some elegant looking mustachioed bugs in 60s regalia with bowl haircuts were waving and smiling, one of them was using its hind legs to idly kick some rolling pebbles about, "who are they?" I asked Ms Kazoo "The Beetles silly, John's kicking the stones about as usual, Mick doesn't look very happy", I groan.. Looking at a small lake near by I notice a bunch of buoys in Hawaiian shirts singing harmoniously as they swayed as if they were a barbershop quartet. "That's enough!!" I thought in disgust. I felt the urge to shatter this happy scene. Ice would break rather than melt.
"you're nothing but.. But a bunch of puns" I shouted!
A needle ripped off the record. Uh oh..
They whole street and scene ground to a halt, the crowd went from happy cacophony with streamers, some wasps and bees literally buzzing with excitement, to a cute cornucopia of concerned faces and expressions.
An air of questionable existentialism passed around, each creature now unsure about itself and it's place in the landscape of lolling hills and valleys with winding liquorice lanes..
The drummer jumped off his cloud and looked likewise concerned as his heels screeched sparks he gently floated down from His perch. "ok, lets do this".. They begin to play and the place is animated once more..
