I'm not one to talk about dreams, but this one is too f'ing weird not to.
I was born and raised in the South Sound region of Washington State, and I'm again living here; however, there was a time in my life - over a decade - when I lived in Southern California.
The dream took place at a music store I used to frequent in Santa Monica.
I was just f'ing around on some of the guitars they had when in walked Layne Staley. Of course, I started watching him in awe. And as I was watching Layne, in walked Chris Cornell, then Kurt Cobain, and the Lizard King himself, Jim Morrison. From there, it was just one passed-on musician after the next coming into the store and it started to get kind of crowded. Oddly enough, they were all just milling around the store like regular customers.
Finally I got up the nerve to approach Layne and asked him what was going on. That's when he told me that my band would've gone on to be huge if I had night died of an overdose after completing in the Battle of the Bands at the Whiskey.
The thing is, I was the lead singer and guitarist of the punk band Human Wreckage and we did have a gig at the Whiskey as part of a Battle of the Bands. And afterwards, we did go to a party and I did get completely f'ed up. But I didn't die of an overdose... Did I?