Have you ever had a dream like this?

Not music related but I often dream I'm playing for Celtic and spend the whole game wondering why no-one's twigged that I'm shit at football.

"Hey now, hey now now, sing Christmas Pudding to me..."

Are you a musician/performer in real life? Maybe it's some subconscious manifestation of performance anxiety. That'd be my only guess.

I still sometimes have nightmares about the restaurant I worked in from 2000-2003.

Actually once, I did dream I was in a battle of the bands, which I actually did do once, and it was right before it actually happened, but Ted Nugent (the douchebaggo) was at our school playing at it, and he was playing with our band, and we were getting ready to start playing.

As we got ready to introduce ourselves and start playing, I turned to him and said, "so you know how to play (song title), right?" and he just grinned and said "nope". Then I ran down a list of about five other songs in our set and he kept saying nope, he didn't know them, and we were like WELL WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GONNA PLAY and I woke up

i was really happy about the setup though, i remember being distinctly impressed that i was getting to use a couple of big, biamped cabinets. which would be woefully inadequate for the large, outdoor venue we were playing at.

I don't want her appearing in any of your dreams again, capiche?

Don't make me send Joseph "Pansy" Pantaliano over to break some kneecaps.

I had one about the Count biting me on the hand...

One where Big Bird bit me on the hand too...

And one of them was the most psychotic ever. I shoulda made a movie out of it.

Grover was bobbing back and forth and shrieking like a madman and chasing me for miles, at full speed...I was running for my life.

I ran into a bedroom and tried to hide, because the hallway dead ended. He ran past the bedroom, then obviously saw me, and then in a swift motion ran back in front of it, and let out a righteous yell since he had found me.

I don't think I was ever any more terrified as a kid in my life.

I'm sorry but that image made me laugh for like five minutes. Speaking of Sesame Street, ever read the mrcranky.com review of elmo in grouchland? it follows:

I saw the trailer to this movie, which was obviously enough. Elmo loses his blanket in Oscar the Grouch's trash can, then decides to try and find it. He falls through the can and into Grouchland where he discovers a world of dirt and rudeness.

Seeing this film or not seeing this film, there's not much I could tell you about it that you couldn't already figure out. Does Elmo eventually find his blanket or is he decapitated by Oscar and his corpse feasted on by the residents of Grouchland? You make the call. Does Elmo sing songs about what a good thing it is to be nice to others or is he force-fed sewage?

Just for amusement's sake, here are a few other things that do not happen in this film:

Elmo walks in on a Grouchland orgy and has his head used as a buttplug.
Unable to identify some spoiled food, Oscar straps Elmo down and pulls out Elmo's teeth one by one while asking, "Is it quiche?"
We discover how Big Bird really got his name.
As part of their two-man play, Burt and Ernie perform the Ned Beatty scene from "Deliverance."
Several muppets just absolutely beat the crap out of Snuffleupagus.

For some reason, there was some big sesame street giveaway and on tv they announced my name and told me I won like 20 things and I just had to call this phone number to win. And because of all my shithead friends talking, I forgot the phone number, and tried to ask them all what it was, but they didn't know.

all of a sudden, Cookie Monster's bastard blue ass was on the television screen telling someone a knock-knock joke, and it went:

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Robert
Robert Who?
ROBERT, YOUR TIME'S UP

and then he proceeded to laugh at me from the television for about 5 minutes.

Then somehow I got in the television, and I had a proton pack on, and I was trying to electrocute him, I was so pissed off, but he was invincible.

I'm still fucking pissed about that one. Nobody gets the upper hand with me, not even in my dreams.

2. I once dreamt I was the lead singer for one of the seminal Seattle grunge bands during the late 1980s and we were pondering whether or not to sign to a mayor record label. The dream didn't specify which band it was, but I'm guessing it was Soundgarden.

My brother had a dream once that a teacher decided to give a lesson through rap.

He told me there was a teacher, and some lady, and they were teaching a lesson to the song "Jump Around" (i'm guessing that song was on while my brother was sleeping), and the lady in the classroom was singing that "wahhhhhhh" whistly part of the song and the teacher started rapping to the class, "pack it up, pack it in..."

A couple more music related dreams:
I was at Johnny Cash's house a little while before he died and he was playing me tapes of a song he'd rocorded that day.

A couple months after Kurt Cobain died he was standing on my front porch smoking a cigarette and pouting. I told him he shouldn't have done it and he just stared at the ground. No dreams about Eliott Smith yet, though.

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.