|In my dream, I'm sitting at the piano listening to a cassette that I accidentally got from Columbia House because I neglected to decline the selection of the month. While listening, I hear or read something talking about how the guitarist for the band is credited with creating competition between top speed-metal guitarists for recognition as the best. Among those named is one named Garth. I realize they're referring to Garth Brooks (hey, it's a dream--it's not neccesarily supposed to make sense!)|
I jam along on the piano with a few songs. Then a light ballad comes on. In the chorus, one of the lines, which is probably the name of the song, is "Why is everything so lame?" or "Why does everything have to be so lame?" The way it's sung sounds like Howard Jones's "No one ever is to blame."
I look out the front door, which is open (I'm in the house where I grew up in Logan, UT), and see two people I know walk by, apprently heading to the neightbor's house, but I imagine they'll come to my house next. One is the president of my priesthood quorum. Not wanting them to hear my piano playing, I close the door.
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