A Cautionary Tale of Mushroom Glissading
I had this dream two days ago and it was one of the more vivid dreams that I've had in a while owing to all the Nyquil I was taking at the time.
Hot off the neurons: I was standing outside a door with a plaque on it that read "Sonic Society HQ" and I entered without knocking. The room beyond the door was totally unexpected. Every available surface was overflowing with unicorn related paraphernalia: there were unicorn sculptures, unicorn posters, unicorn paintings, stuffed animal unicorns, unicorn lamps, unicorn mobiles, unicorns painted in black velvet, bawdy re-imaginings of My Little Pony with little pastel unicorn ponies, and various other unicorn knick knacks, oddities and miscellanea of all manner and description. Each offering was accompanied by a small handwritten note from the fan who had offered it up to Jack and Shannon.
Jack and Shannon were seated in a corner of the room talking. The corner, I noted with some relief, was relatively unicorn free, but it also had a sort of retro, 1960s vibe to it-I distinctly remember an overabundance of shag carpeting. Without thinking, I sat down on a nearby bean bag chair and tried to join the conversation, but a brief look of annoyance flashed across their faces and Jack said, "Ok, folks, it looks like we've just been joined by former charter member, Brad Bowman. We'll be back right after a quick break while we figure out what to do with him."
A huge wave embarrassment crashed down on me as I realized that Ihad just interrupted a live show. Shannon fiddled with a bunch of knobs on some WWII era electronics, grumbling under her breathe. The noise of Dick Dynamo's briefcase could be heard in the background.
I heard a muffled voice shouting and realized that it was Sam Mowry. I noticed that it was coming from a small speaker sitting on a director's chair, but a small pillow was on top of the speaker and muffled his voice too much to understand what he shouting about.
"Quiet him down, will you!" Shannon shouted at Jack, who casually threw another pillow over the speaker.
Jack grabbed me by my shirt and led me back out the door, rushing me down a hallway with tall sunny windows on one side. Looking out the windows I saw for the first time that we were high up in some mountains that I somehow knew to be the Andes. There was a flurry of confusing activity involving llamas that I don't recall clearly, but the dream culminated in a scene in which Jack and Shannon and I were standing on the top of a mountain ridge looking down an incredibly steep slope covered with impossibly large mushrooms: massive clumps of portobellos, six feet across, were dotted with tree sized morels, and there were cascading meadows of giant shiitakes that waved back and forth seemingly of their own volition. At this point, I noticed, with some alarm, that Jack and Shannon were wearing ski jackets and had goggles on.
Jack was the first to leap down the mountainside, skipping gracefully across the tops of the portobellos, followed by Shannon who let out a "wheeee...." before disappearing down the slope behind him. I was drawn to the shiitakes for some reason, and that turned out to be my undoing. The cap of the first shiitake I landed on snapped off and I fell down amid their stalks and started sliding on a slimy underbed of enokis, cloud ear and spores. I careened down the mountain, bumping off outcrops of lobster mushrooms and clammy clumps of oyster mushrooms before finally coming to a rest on an open scree slope composed of small, white button mushrooms. Jack and Shannon looked down at me, shaking their heads.
It was Jack who spoke first: "Dumbass. You haven't listened to the show for months and you never signed up for Sonic Gold."
As they walked away, I heard Shannon say to Jack, "I can't believe he tried to surf the shiitakes, what a loser."
N.B.: Later in the day after I awoke from that dream, I signed up for Sonic Gold.
Hot off the neurons: I was standing outside a door with a plaque on it that read "Sonic Society HQ" and I entered without knocking. The room beyond the door was totally unexpected. Every available surface was overflowing with unicorn related paraphernalia: there were unicorn sculptures, unicorn posters, unicorn paintings, stuffed animal unicorns, unicorn lamps, unicorn mobiles, unicorns painted in black velvet, bawdy re-imaginings of My Little Pony with little pastel unicorn ponies, and various other unicorn knick knacks, oddities and miscellanea of all manner and description. Each offering was accompanied by a small handwritten note from the fan who had offered it up to Jack and Shannon.
Jack and Shannon were seated in a corner of the room talking. The corner, I noted with some relief, was relatively unicorn free, but it also had a sort of retro, 1960s vibe to it-I distinctly remember an overabundance of shag carpeting. Without thinking, I sat down on a nearby bean bag chair and tried to join the conversation, but a brief look of annoyance flashed across their faces and Jack said, "Ok, folks, it looks like we've just been joined by former charter member, Brad Bowman. We'll be back right after a quick break while we figure out what to do with him."
A huge wave embarrassment crashed down on me as I realized that Ihad just interrupted a live show. Shannon fiddled with a bunch of knobs on some WWII era electronics, grumbling under her breathe. The noise of Dick Dynamo's briefcase could be heard in the background.
I heard a muffled voice shouting and realized that it was Sam Mowry. I noticed that it was coming from a small speaker sitting on a director's chair, but a small pillow was on top of the speaker and muffled his voice too much to understand what he shouting about.
"Quiet him down, will you!" Shannon shouted at Jack, who casually threw another pillow over the speaker.
Jack grabbed me by my shirt and led me back out the door, rushing me down a hallway with tall sunny windows on one side. Looking out the windows I saw for the first time that we were high up in some mountains that I somehow knew to be the Andes. There was a flurry of confusing activity involving llamas that I don't recall clearly, but the dream culminated in a scene in which Jack and Shannon and I were standing on the top of a mountain ridge looking down an incredibly steep slope covered with impossibly large mushrooms: massive clumps of portobellos, six feet across, were dotted with tree sized morels, and there were cascading meadows of giant shiitakes that waved back and forth seemingly of their own volition. At this point, I noticed, with some alarm, that Jack and Shannon were wearing ski jackets and had goggles on.
Jack was the first to leap down the mountainside, skipping gracefully across the tops of the portobellos, followed by Shannon who let out a "wheeee...." before disappearing down the slope behind him. I was drawn to the shiitakes for some reason, and that turned out to be my undoing. The cap of the first shiitake I landed on snapped off and I fell down amid their stalks and started sliding on a slimy underbed of enokis, cloud ear and spores. I careened down the mountain, bumping off outcrops of lobster mushrooms and clammy clumps of oyster mushrooms before finally coming to a rest on an open scree slope composed of small, white button mushrooms. Jack and Shannon looked down at me, shaking their heads.
It was Jack who spoke first: "Dumbass. You haven't listened to the show for months and you never signed up for Sonic Gold."
As they walked away, I heard Shannon say to Jack, "I can't believe he tried to surf the shiitakes, what a loser."
N.B.: Later in the day after I awoke from that dream, I signed up for Sonic Gold.