In the dream, I'm
walking with Chris. We're dressed in full
ninja regalia and we're trying to get into the
Radiohead /
Beethoven concert. It's in the big circus tent and for some reason the only US appearance is
Punxatawnee.
We use our
grappling hooks to scale to the top and
repel down into the center of the stage.
Johnny Greenwood gives me a
high five and offers me a
drink. Then, suddenly, I'm in a room alone with
Thom. He says he
respects me as a musician.
I look down. I'm wearing a tuxedo, replete with
waiter tails.
Tom says "Listen 'ere, I'll pay you an' your wacky mate
100,000 pounds a year to just listen to whatever we send you and email us your opinions about it. If not, you can sod off."
I agree.
I'm back at the
dojo. I'm training my
ninja clan with Radiohead's
cover of "
Sunday Bloody Sunday" in the background.
My second in command is the guy from
Red House Painters.
I wake up.
I'm
not even a ninja.