Dreams of dragon fire

I don’t know if these two things are related or not, but they seem to be.

I’ve been cruising around the local musician websites and forums lately looking for an opportunity to play with someone else.  I’m not looking to be in a full-time band, I’m just looking for a couple of people that want to play music on a semi-regular basis.  Playing my drums to my headphones just has no love in it.  I want to play live music again.
I have no illusions about myself.  There are has-beens and there are never-was’.  I’m neither, I’m a never-tried.  But I still like to play and if I may say so myself, I’m still decent enough to put on a good show.  But the local on-line scene seems to be full of people looking for instant stardom or nasty people looking to start flame wars and piss on others dreams.  So I’m still looking but I’m kind of giving up hope.

I’ve also been looking at a lot of pictures and reading comments on Facebook groups dedicated to the “good old days” when we were just out of high school and I spent more time out at Jax Beach than I did at home.  Everyone was in a band or between bands or helping their friend’s band.  Poor Teresa, she spent many a weekend on Peeler’s deck and at John’s Garage just because she wanted to be with me and I wanted to be around the music scene…  So a lot of those old memories are coming back to me now.

And then last night I had a dream.

We stopped in to a small convenience store to buy some drinks.  I had Becca with me and in the dream she was still about six or seven years old.  She picked out her soda bottle and I let her carry it to the register.  She could barely see over the counter top.  About that time I heard music coming from the back room of the convenience store.  The door opened and I saw a recording studio in the back.  I was about to ask the cashier about it when the front door jingled and in walked a dozen rock-n-roll idols from my childhood.  They were older but still recognizable.  As they walked past us they were rough and loud, sometimes brushing me and Becca hard up against the counter.  I was getting angry and one of them recognized me as if I used to be one of them.  They asked what I was doing now and all of them turned and laughed at me.  They pointed at Becca and yelled, “Ha!  Look what you’ve become.  A fat, corporate, family man!”  I told them that I was happy with who I was and they laughed louder.
I paid for the drinks and we walked out of the store hearing the laughter fade as we closed the doors.  Becca asked, “Who were they Daddy?”  I said, “Ghosts baby.  Just ghosts.”  I locked the door from the outside and put a railroad tie across the doors (these things just make sense in dreams).  Then I leaned down and produced a box of old fashioned stick matches.  I pulled one out and taught Becca how to light it.  She got it lit on the third try and we brought it over to the locked doors.  The whole interior of the store instantly went up in flames.
Becca and I sat down on the curb with our backs to the door.  We smiled and drank our soda pop through bendy straws while everyone inside screamed and banged on the doors trying to get out.

Two thoughts went through my mind;
1:  I love my family and I wouldn’t trade a minute with them for any amount of stardom.
2:  This image would make a great album cover.