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in a band at a wedding
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Dream concert within a dream; home invasion

Morning of March 1, 2014. Saturday.

I am at a wedding (unknown) eventually as part of a band. I am the lead singer and play an acoustic guitar. Three others play. Behind and to my left is someone on a small basic drum kit. Behind and to my right is a bass player. Farther back is someone set up with keyboards including sample players for such as horns if needed. (My dream's section had repeated with the first song having been done solo by me the first time with no other band members - additional band members appearing is symbolic of going "deeper" into my dream state just as water becoming more and more shallow represents slowly waking from my dream state.) The first song is "Speak to the Sky" with an added four measure intro as well as an additional melodic solo instrumental in the middle and a couple extra verse and chorus events. The next song is "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da". The third is by request. A man comes up and asks if we do requests and I say yes. The song is "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes". It becomes very eventful and almost operatic by the end. There are some nice melodic variations in each song that were not in the original. This is done by shifting the melodic lines up or down, with variations on the chord elements. For example only, C-E-G to E-G-(higher)C (in C Major) or D-D-F to F-F-A (in D minor), using downward variations as well.

Later (or rather right after or even apparently "during" my dream concert), I and my family are together at our home on Barolin Street, though the ages would be wrong for that time (our children are as they are now in reality rather than much younger when we lived there). I am sitting on the couch saying how I had been clearly hearing music (referring to my own dream within my dream). The lyrics were all very clear and correct and I know it is possible to go on for a long time with correct wording in a dream as long as it is somehow related to rhythm or musical memory. I have read stories, even entire novels, in dreams but they do not have the same clarity or stronger dynamics. (Reading an entire novel, though, usually ends with me waking up feeling very stressed and annoyed regardless of the novel itself.)

Soon, there is trouble on the porch. My wife seems to be struggling with someone through the window directly to the right of the doorway. I get one of two large, long metal bars (as I have in real life, but slightly shorter) and run it through the area, knocking the person in the forehead. It is a young white male in a black duster and somewhat formal clothes including a white shirt and dark slacks. There is also a white female and a black female who are part of the "gang" - they appear to be fairly wealthy (unless it is a facade) rather than just meandering or typically desperate "street people". It is possible that these people represent facets of the virus I presently have (my wife does not have it "yet" and may not get it - but the last several times my family got a virus of some kind, I did not). The "gang" eventually goes away from the area. I notice there is no higher fence across the front of the yard as there was in reality. I ask someone (no one in particular) to "get me my gun" but prefer using the bar for some reason.

Later, I go out with the metal bar and hold it up like a sword or baseball bat. The male now has a rifle but does not use it. I see them at a distance about three houses away. Eventually, they come to the house again. I had been in the kitchen at that later point and when I look out to the porch, my youngest son (who seems to have a lighter variation of the virus in real life) is seemingly being held back from leaving the door area by a hand through the window.

Finally, I decide that enough is enough. I knock all of the "gang members" on the head and somehow put the bar through their body (chest area) even though it is flat and cylindrical (with no sharp point anywhere). That does not seem to be enough, so I "knock them into oblivion" until there is almost nothing left. Two grotesque-looking young males (extra ridges and furrows in their faces - but they otherwise remind me of an actor whose name I do not recall) with platinum blonde hair also approach but I easily knock them to bits as well. Violence. Bah. This cold, while getting better, is annoying. Later, there is a reset and I go back to the concert from the beginning. Good.

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