Another psychedelic dream produced by my brain.
I just dreamt while listening to Tom Waits' "Down There By The Train" that I was playing his vinyls as video games on an old broken TV with boxes everywhere in my old neighborhood, with a main setup down the street under a sky at dawn. My old home economics teacher didn't find her way through a snowy but also autumn-esque park near there and she was wearing a neon green wig and she was with an extremely old confused lady and another middle-aged friend that also both wore neon green wigs. I had to show them the way out of the park to the kindergarten when I realized that I never even heard of a kindergarten being there but then we found the exit and the old woman was thanking me but also seemed very sad and as if she wasn't going to live much longer, she was coughing a lot. When I passed the red blinking lights of the brothel of the area a public phone next to it started ringing, my father was crying on the phone while my mother was shouting at him and I was just smirking at the voices and hung up. But the conversation reminded me that I wanted to go and remove the pair of boxes I hid in the wooden tunnel that somehow led to a door in my old home of my parents but kinda into the middle of the apartment instead of the front. From my father's reflection that somehow went through the peephole I could tell that he was trying to slowly peek into the tunnel but I pressed myself against the darkness and he just shut the door tighter. I didn't find the boxes and started to run around the foggy blue-toned neighborhood while wondering why the music of Tom Waits kept at the same kind of volume wherever I went, there were just slight differences. And then, after putting on a vinyl video game where Tom was dressed like a swing singer of the 30s, in all-white with a white hat and you could maneuver him through a city that looked like San Fran, I kinda had a vision of Antony Hegarty singing the song that was playing. The dream switched from thrid person of myself into a point-of-view kinda thing and I was in an old run down bar with blue mist all around and a big stage. There were a bunch of aggressive dancers around Antony. I couldn't really make out any crowd besides me at all. Antony was sitting on a big broad shimmery armchair and the dancers kept turning him on that armchair with an abrupt movement while he just kept singing. He was dressed like on the cover of the Antony And The Johnsons selftitled album and the dancers looked like bondage strippers. The musicians were classical ones with violins for some reason and cellos, even though none of these instruments play in that Tom Waits song, and these classical musicians seemed displeased with the surreal performance of Antony and the dancers. Suddenly the swing version of Tom from the 30s was on stage and started playing the drums crouched down and very softly, my two hands reached out in front of me to start a drumroll but he pushed them away because there obviously wasn't supposed to be a drumroll there. So the concert ended and I woke up. Jesus.