So what if I'm repeating myself.

This is an old dream.

The Demon Pixie's Mad Libs/Bon Jovi Dream brought this back to the top....

This is an old dream of the type that are so fucking realistic that you can smell the fog... feel the subtle vibrations of a bus driving by your house... the kind where gravity is the new sensuality... the kind where one wakes up sweating and it takes about 3 hours to fully come to terms with the reality that what your brain just gave you was, in fact, a luscious ghost that you will never hold in your arms.

So I was working a rock festival in Northern California... Bill Grahm Presents kindo thing.
Hanson was supposed to be going on next. But there's a problem in mmmmbop city. They have no singer. (now I realize that 'they' are the singer, but this is a G.D. dream! so cut me some slack).

They have no singer, and are looking for someone-ANYone to sit in with the band.

For some reason, I fit the bill better than the 17,000 other people in the near vicinity. Maybe it's because I'm a tallskinnywhiteboy.

So they ask me to fill in as lead singer.
And they go on in 20 min.

And I tell them.... "Gee... ya know kids, I really don't know a single fucking one of your tunes."

And they say 'Hey Sven, no problem, we don't play that teeny bopper shit anymore.'

Me: "Huh?"

They: 'Yeah, we only play Led Zeppelin tunes now.'

Me: "Let's Roll."

So there I am, on stage in front of 17,000 screaming punters.... The sun is low in the afternoon sky. My Friend Jim is mixing monitors. It's hot. I'm Shirtless and in jeans.... bra's are being thrown on stage...I can feel the wood deck flexing under my feet. The backline is pumping out such an massive sound that I can feel a static charge build up in my hair... best of all, I'm not only shaking my ass but also resonating like the endorphin/pheromone pumping Banshee that is Robert Plant.

We made it through 3 songs before I woke up... They were:

Whole Lotta Love
Over the Hills and Far Away
Ten Years Gone

Brain, I love you.