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Out of Reach

Date: 11-Apr-2010/19:08+3:00

Tags: , ,

Characters: singer, me

I was in a venue with a band on a stage. Realizing I was dreaming, I decided to try getting them to play music I'd improvise. I tried to get the drummer to lay down a rhythm, but couldn't...yet I could manage to get a feedback going so that the guitarist began to play what I was thinking. The other instruments came in as I got caught into a groove.
As I started to sing some random lyrics, the singer motioned at me. I interpreted his signal as suggesting that I should think the lyrics, but not vocalize them...instead letting him do the singing. That was difficult to do so instead I just sang very quietly so that he was louder than I was.
The lyrics were off the cuff, and had some lame rhymes, but it was called "Out of Reach":
I've circled all around it
but cannot make it breach
So you're out of reach
I wasn't so happy with rhyming "breach" and "reach", and around the time of singing that chorus is when the whole thing stopped and everyone went into the next room to sit down at a table. I was seated next to an attractive girl with long red hair. She didn't seem to react as I impulsively stroked her hair, and just sat there.
The singer addressed me.
singer: "The last time we were on stage and that happened, that we just suddenly started playing something coming from somewhere else, you were around also."
me: "Not trying to cause a problem."
singer: "No, it's cool. We're just saying, we're sure it's you now."
They began to describe where they had worked. The girl mentioned she had worked for a website called "caturday.com".
Note Caturday is a "LOLCat" term, popular on websites like icanhascheezburger
me: "If you're able to speak about your jobs, and then we are meeting here...what is your perception? Is this where you work and live, or are you describing something in your past? Can you connect the memory of how you came to be in this room with a sequence of events or not?"
He didn't answer my question, but he held his hand up. It seemed that his fingers became colored tubes, like orange/green/blue/red. He pulled the orange tube out and laid it on the table.
singer: "The way things are going, we're going to have to start moving quickly. The police are tearing down the rigging as we speak. It's best if you can hold out your finger and let this tube drain into it."
me: (sighing) "Well I don't know if what you're suggesting is a good idea or a bad one, but I have a hard time thinking how it could be much worse. And since we played that song, you seem friendly, and this girl here is cute...I'll do it."
I put my finger into the tube, and watched as the orange liquid drained out of it and into my finger.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?