Have you ever had a dream like this?

I will pinch this from Fallnet as I can't remember what I did yesterday, much less any dreams.

>I'm visiting a mountain-top music library with a group of friends and
>the whole thing is being broadcast live, which gives it a kind of
>'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' feel. Our attention is directed to
>a group of racks full of vinyl which are lined up beneath a row of
>picture windows overlooking the rocky valley below. The official
>demonstrator man is picking albums out willy-nilly from the racks,
>holding them up for a frustratingly brief time for the camera before
>letting them fall back, all the time explaining something that's meant
>to be hugely important, but which I ignore because I'm only interested
>in getting my filthy hands on the LPs. Most of the stuff he's pulling
>out looks like charity shop fodder, big photos of archetypal crooner
>types, but presently he hoiks out a Fall record, one I've never seen or
>heard of. Man alive! Somehow I manage to get hold of the thing; it's
>a 4-track ep featuring the tracks "Innovation Management" and
>"Hampshire County Council" (can't remember the other two). It looks
>similar to the "Call for Escape Route" ep, and has a big pic of Brix's
>face on the front. As I examine the sleeve I start to pick up on what
>our guide is saying.
>
>He explains that the library is infested with "hostages" - aliens whose
>normal state is invisible, non-corporeal and harmless, but which are
>revealed to us and given physicality by music. He demonstrates this by
>directing our attention towards the centre of the room (which is large
>and apparently empty apart from pillars and the odd record
>rack) and playing a brief snatch of one of the records. As it plays,
>and the music fills the air, we see the hostages materialise - great
>long pods, 3 or 4 foot in diameter, hang from the ceiling to the floor.
>The pod casings are translucent, and through them we see the contents -
>big wriggly maggot things, which writhe completely *out* of time with
>the music. These things fade in-and-out in a pulsating stylee as you'd
>expect, becoming progressively more solid as the music is allowed to
>continue. Our guide switches it off, and they disappear. "As long as
>there's no music, we're perfectly safe."
>
>Obviously, it turns out we're to live here, sharing the place with a
>psychiatrist/mad doctor type who uses sounds to examine his patients.
>I'm knocking about in the bathroom, feeling anxious, when I hear noises
>coming from his office. They start off as occasional, disconnected
>electronic squonks and glurps, but gradually it develops into something
>that sounds - I realise with both horror and fascination - exactly like
>some 20th Century avant garde 'classical' composition, like Stockhausen
>or something. It occurs to me that this is an opportunity to answer
>once and for all whether or not that kind of thing qualifies as music:
>hostage materialisation = yes, no- show = no. However, a tune starts
>to develop, and I realise we're on for a definite show. "The fool!"
>
>I rush up to the psychiatrist's office to warn him only to see that he is, himself, a hostage in human form. He has morphed into a Mr Hyde
type character. He briefly sets about his patient with fangs and
claws, before leaping back to examine his work; the patient stands, and I see that his eyes have been ripped out (they look like they would if his face were a 2-d image and someone had cut them out roughly with scissors, before pasting it onto a flat red background). The mangled patient half smiles and shouts:

"I CAN SEE!"

I once had a dream I was in Oasis' practice room, where there was arguing going on and I was trying to tell Liam Gallagher he needed to let the rest of the band have a say in things. I've also had several dreams where one particular musician is my friend and we hang out in the dream. I think I've had this for Sting, Andrew Eldritch, Stevie Winwood, others. Most of the time it isn't an artist I particularly like.

One of the best dreams I ever had was of doing a Pixies medley with the White Stripes at blitz speed. Jack White kept picking random songs and I'd have to leap right in with the Santiago parts. And I never missed a note.

It seemed fun.

I think you could be right.