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    rshort1202

    Thursday, December 20

    by , 01-03-2019 at 11:45 PM (112 Views)
    I am in some building that feels like maybe a school or somewhere with some offices in the back. Iím waiting in the wood paneled hallway, waiting for the man inside the office to finish up with someone. The other person leaves, inciting a silence to take over. I peek my head through the doorway and see the man focused on some work on his desk. I really hate to interrupt this, but I slowly enter and ask if he has a moment. He says yes and waits kindly for me to talk. I slowly tell Bill Kreutzmann, addressing him by his first name, ďthank you.Ē He seems to get rather emotional, and tears appear in his eyes. This causes me to become a little emotional as well. He tells me that means so much to him and that no oneís ever told him that before. I try to lighten it up a bit by saying something like Ďthank you for just fuckiní playing the drums in a band that means a lot to me.í We talk a bit more, and I end up leaving here with him. We approach a car, his, in the lot, where another man asks Bill about me. Bill says Iím fine, the other man nods, says Iím Ďiní. Bill now drives us, me in the back, to some type of shopping center. Iím out of the car with the door still open when Bill comes over, and I ask jokingly if Iíll need any of these, gesturing to three Grateful Dead shirts laid out on the bench style seat (and a backpack of mine - the backpack I had in middle school?) He chuckles and says no. I mention how I have the three, the first with ĎGrateful Deadí in a large font, the second a tie dye, and the third a grey one (thinking of the grey one I have with the skull and glasses). We now walk into a building here. Once inside, I lose track of Bill and the other man. Thereís quite a few people walking around in here. I awkwardly start walking around, until a man by a doorway gestures to me, seemingly knowing what Iím looking for. I go through the doorway, and it is now clear why weíre here. This large living room sized room has a stage at the far wall. The drum set takes up a large portion of it (maybe a quarter of the stage, though itís centered). There are a few rows of picnic styled tables here. The lighting is dim and blueish. I deduce that Bill is going to be playing with a band here tonight. I think that itís a weekday and I hadnít planned on being out late, but Iím fine with it. The few tables are mostly full, but I look for a spot, doubling back once. I then find a spot at the end of one closer to the door and have a seat. A girl (someone I knew from high school?) has her knees on the bench and the rest of her body bent over the top of the table. She then slides back down, leaving less room by me. I look amongst those seated and notice Ian and some other familiar faces from high school. Theyíre singing ďgod donít play dice with the universeĒ with a sort of subtle communal fervor. It irritates me that these Ďcoolerí kids are capitalizing on something that a less popular person, like myself, genuinely likes. Now, I (and maybe 1-2 others) am lying on the ground in front of the stage. The stage seems very tall from down here. The ground seems very soft, more like carpet or grass. I am flat on my back, with my eyes closed. I think I am paying attention to sensory input and getting slight OBE feelings/perceptions.




    Iíve gone into some store with Melissa. Iím not sure if this building is standing alone or entered into from another building. The place seems to sell only craft beers as well as wine. I look all over for a certain beer (Moonraker?) but do not see it anywhere. I think I ask someone, and he doesnít see any either. I think Iíll just pick up two six packs that were on sale, something like 2 for $6, because itís a good price. I go to grab it and canít find it. I look all over again and still donít see it, so I just grab a Hop Valley IPA thatís the same deal. The cans look like pints and are grey with a fairly plain label.

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