a decemberists dream (a rarity, i assure you)

I very rarely remember my dreams, aside from trivial details, like dreams wherein I can’t find the remote control for the TV.  This dream, however, actually lasted a while and was pretty funny.  So, as an homage to Todd’s blog o’ dreams, here’s mine.  It, surprisingly, involves the Decemberists[1. No sarcasm there — despite my /orate friends dreaming about the D’s to a great extent, I think this is the second dream I’ve had about them, and the first in such detail.].

So I’m at a D’s concert, obviously, in a big, wide outdoor arena.  I was with friends, but I don’t remember who they were.  We got front row but way left, all the way to the edge. Yet, Colin was still somewhat center of me. Oh well.

They come out, people cheer. They start to play Hazards, but the song is all gibberish (in my head). Somehow my POV switches to a person’s video camera, which Colin has noticed and begins to sing to. It’s kind of fisheye-y.  As he sings, you can see he’s a little out of it, and he starts forgetting lyrics.  Then, out of the blue, he stops playing.  The whole band stops.  He says, “I’m sorry, but something’s not right” to the audience, then he and the other D’s proceed to pull Jenny’s organ station and Moen’s drums closer to the stage, basically putting the whole thing closer to the audience.  We erupt in cheers.

Then they start playing a really, really weird, psychedelic version of Hazards.  Everyone’s like, cool, but it’s barely audible through the speakers. So everyone starts shouting, “Turn it up!” and pointing their index fingers to the sky[2. In much the same way musicians do to the sound guy — point to a monitor, then point up.]. There might’ve been booing involved, I don’t remember; what I do remember is Nate Query throwing his bass down, doing one of those loud whistles where you put your fingers in the corners of your mouth, and shouting, “You know what? FUCK YOU” and then leaving the stage.  I remember him wearing a weird black barbershop quartet hat, but it was black and had a lot of shiny jangly jangles on it — something, I assume, John Popper would wear.  Anyway, the rest of the band follows him offstage.

At this point I’m confused.  I turn and notice that my friends — and mostly everyone else — has left, marching in a giant swarm of humanoids towards the ticket office to demand a refund.  I hurry after them.  But about halfway there, I turn and look at the stage — and notice the D’s going back onstage and grabbing their instruments to play.  So I shout, “Looks like they’re coming back!” and suddenly there’s a stampede as everyone rushes back to the stage.  I’m running my ass off, thinking I’m gonna lose my sweet spot!

As I’m running I pass by a giant, gnarled foot, draped in a blue and yellow sundress (flowery pattern, I think) down to the ankle. I’m supposing this belonged to some giant woman, but I can’t confirm this because my alarm clock went off and woke me up.  And that’s my dream.