Okay I am not making things up at all, I know there was a Coldplay dream earlier and now there is a Pearl Jam, but both these dreams had gaps between them, I am just trying to kind of put them in some sort of order.
Dream Log 2:
Imagine Darjeeling,specifically the Mall Road, not all the way up to the top but somewhere in the bazaars. There are people milling about everywhere; clothes, shoes, ornaments, decorative pieces, jewellery, lamps, shawls, spices and anything you can think of, the bazaar has it all. From somewhere there is a smell of coffee and maybe a bit of onions being fried. I am kind of overseeing the whole scene. There are children running about and adults and children riding on horses. There's a permanent stench of horse feces, unknown to the locals but the tourists and the visitors have their noses wrinkled at times. Among all the shops, eateries, inns and restaurants there is a small antique shop filled with old clocks, jewellery boxes, chairs, books and all other kinds of junk stuff that you can think of. The owner of the shop is an old couple. The man sits in the shop while his wife knits mufflers and sweaters and tries to sell them at the front of the shop. Inside this very shop there are a few people who are not native to Darjeeling or India even.
It's the member of the grunge rock band from the nineties-Pearl Jam. They are all old now. Wearing loose pants and large half-kurta like t-shirts. They have mufflers around their necks which they bought from the wife in the store. They have been in Darjeeling for quite sometime now,roaming about here and there,trying out the eateries, visiting the mountains,camping. No one has recognized them yet. It's been several days. Everyone is so caught up in their mobile phones that faces are long forgotten. Plus, the band members are miles away from their home and chances of recognition were low anyway. The band didn't perform anymore even though they hadn't broken up. They just didn't because they felt they didn't reach out to people anymore, no one heard them, no one saw them, no one appreciated them. Being used to the opposite kinds of societal behaviour for years, they lost interest in doing music even for themselves.
Someone needed to tell them that they should keep the music alive, even if for just themselves. The guitars should be strummed, the drums should be played, the bass should be brought to life. So I descended from my overseeing position to them. They were pretty surprised to have met someone who recognized them and their music even,and in Darjeeling. I convinced them somehow that they should do music again. As an idea, asked them to take their musical instruments out to the bazaar and sit down at a spot and start to play their stuff and see i they enjoy playing with each other. They go up the mall road to the centre of the little town, sit down and start playing. Eddie is in a maroon flowery half-kurta, Mike is in blue, Stone is all wrapped up, Matt and Jeff are in dark green half kurtas. The band looked fabulous as the crowd started to gather around slowly. They had bought an old black radio from the antique shop and kept it in front of them as they played.
Slowly the fervour returned, Eddie's voice grew more confident, Mike's licks became more prominent and the band started to have fun. I stepped aside and flew back up to my overseeing position and watched the band regaling the crowd and finally doing music again.
And I woke up.
Dream Log 2:
Imagine Darjeeling,specifically the Mall Road, not all the way up to the top but somewhere in the bazaars. There are people milling about everywhere; clothes, shoes, ornaments, decorative pieces, jewellery, lamps, shawls, spices and anything you can think of, the bazaar has it all. From somewhere there is a smell of coffee and maybe a bit of onions being fried. I am kind of overseeing the whole scene. There are children running about and adults and children riding on horses. There's a permanent stench of horse feces, unknown to the locals but the tourists and the visitors have their noses wrinkled at times. Among all the shops, eateries, inns and restaurants there is a small antique shop filled with old clocks, jewellery boxes, chairs, books and all other kinds of junk stuff that you can think of. The owner of the shop is an old couple. The man sits in the shop while his wife knits mufflers and sweaters and tries to sell them at the front of the shop. Inside this very shop there are a few people who are not native to Darjeeling or India even.
It's the member of the grunge rock band from the nineties-Pearl Jam. They are all old now. Wearing loose pants and large half-kurta like t-shirts. They have mufflers around their necks which they bought from the wife in the store. They have been in Darjeeling for quite sometime now,roaming about here and there,trying out the eateries, visiting the mountains,camping. No one has recognized them yet. It's been several days. Everyone is so caught up in their mobile phones that faces are long forgotten. Plus, the band members are miles away from their home and chances of recognition were low anyway. The band didn't perform anymore even though they hadn't broken up. They just didn't because they felt they didn't reach out to people anymore, no one heard them, no one saw them, no one appreciated them. Being used to the opposite kinds of societal behaviour for years, they lost interest in doing music even for themselves.
Someone needed to tell them that they should keep the music alive, even if for just themselves. The guitars should be strummed, the drums should be played, the bass should be brought to life. So I descended from my overseeing position to them. They were pretty surprised to have met someone who recognized them and their music even,and in Darjeeling. I convinced them somehow that they should do music again. As an idea, asked them to take their musical instruments out to the bazaar and sit down at a spot and start to play their stuff and see i they enjoy playing with each other. They go up the mall road to the centre of the little town, sit down and start playing. Eddie is in a maroon flowery half-kurta, Mike is in blue, Stone is all wrapped up, Matt and Jeff are in dark green half kurtas. The band looked fabulous as the crowd started to gather around slowly. They had bought an old black radio from the antique shop and kept it in front of them as they played.
Slowly the fervour returned, Eddie's voice grew more confident, Mike's licks became more prominent and the band started to have fun. I stepped aside and flew back up to my overseeing position and watched the band regaling the crowd and finally doing music again.
And I woke up.
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