Enter Sandman…Weird Dream Monday
Waaaay back in the day when I was an angry young teen (circa 1988), a cousin of mine introduced me to the world of heavy metal music. My first sampling was in his old beater pickup truck one summer Saturday morning as we were heading out to cut grass. His dashboard was cluttered with well worn cassette tapes, some with cases, most without. He popped in Ozzy Osbourne’s 1984 classic “Bark At The Moon”; it was an electric moment. From the first few riffs I was awestruck. That day we listened to everything my cousin had available. Iron Maiden – “Stranger In A Strange Land” sticks out very vividly from that day. Mostly due to the title track and the amazing album cover with a futuristic version of Iron Maiden’s ghouly mascot, Eddie.
A new 13 year old metalhead was forged.
In my quest to gorge myself on this new sonic discovery, I started frequenting our local mall’s two music shops, Sam Goody and Musicland, spending all of my hard earned grass cutting money on new music. My first album purchases were Whitesnake – “Whitesnake” and Motley Crue ” Girls, Girls, Girls” thanks to the influence of many late Saturday nights watching all three hours of MTV’s “Headbangers’ Ball”. The ‘Ball’ gave me a crash course of the insane world of heavy metal and hard rock music. I quickly figured out who was who, which guitarist was in which band, who played drums on what albums, who toured with who, etc. etc. I wanted more and more and more. I started picking up the rock/metal music mags from the grocery store – RIP, Hit Parader, Circus and reading them cover to cover. I could never get enough.
Then one fateful day…once again I found myself at Sam Goody just sniffing around, browsing around for nothing in particular. I had everything I was interested in and quite musically happy with my growing hard rock/metal music collection. Something unexpectedly caught my eye. A display with new release albums all marked with big red SALE $7.99! stickers. I had a $10, maybe it was going to be a ‘new music’ day after all. Ohhh, it was indeed.
I don’t remember what particular albums were on the display because I was immediately hypnotized by one specific album cover. It depicted a giant marble statue of Lady Justice, cracking and crumbling as massive ropes bound her, pulling her down. Carved in the marble wall behind Lady Justice was a band name I had heard of but never paid any attention to…METALLICA. I flipped it over to see four scraggly, hairy, pissed off dudes scowling hate and fury staring back at me. They weren’t the pretty boy rock and metal I had been initiated with. No hairspray or eyeliner, no shiny, flashy androgyny. Just a lot of black and a lot of anger. Being more curious about what I was looking at than anything else, I bought it on cassette.
I got home, raced up to my room, powered up my hand-me-down stereo (complete with broken 8-track player), slapped on the headphones and let this new thing called METALLICA play.
“HOLY…SHIT.”
It was the all I could say. There were no other words I COULD say. I was being assaulted by sounds that had only be remotely HINTED at by the other stuff I had heard. There was no singing. There was only this one guy BARKING. GROWLING. This James Hetfield guy wasn’t singing about hot rods, getting laid, boozing and partying like most of the other hard rock music in my stack. Nuclear annihilation. Crooked, evil government wolves. A horrific story of a war casualty. Nothing fun and pretty at all. I listened to the whole album through in one sitting. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know if I liked it. I didn’t know if I didn’t like it. I was too shellshocked.
One more time through…
…Yes, I did INDEED like it. I fucking loved it.
Metallica soon became everything to me. I collected everything I could find with their name on it. T-shirts. The complete discography. Posters. Magazine covers. I wallpapered my bedroom with everything I found with Metallica on it. Not one inch of bare wall in that room. My Dad had even questioned my sexuality (“What are you, queer or something??”) because these four headbangers’s faces were everywhere. I did throw in half naked chick poster to appease the old man, pissing off Mom in the process. I lived, ate, breathed and slept all things Metallica.
So…
All of that backstory and set-up to tell you this. For many, many years I have had a reoccurring dream. I am a member of Metallica.
The setup varies — Jason Newsted (then bass player) is hurt and cannot play; Metallica hears how big a fan I am and asks me up on stage to play with them as a ‘fifth’ member; I’m hired to replace said bass player — WHATEVER . The maid idea is that I am about to play live on stage with Metallica. I can hear the crowd roaring as I sit backstage with the guys getting ready to go on. I’m nervous. Fuck nervous — I’m shit-my-pants scared. What if I screw up? What if I forget how to play? But I’m just as excited! OHMYGOD THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT EVER!!
The lights go down. The intro music starts. The audience goes into a frenzy. They know were coming. The four (or five of us, depending on which dream version is playing) make our way to the stage. Just as I am about to breach the backstage curtain for the main stage and 50,000 screaming metalheads chanting our name…
I WAKE UP.
It has been that way for that last 15+ years. Same dream. Same outcome. Never a note played. When I was younger, I would have this dream as much as twice a week without fail. Over the years this fantasy started to wane, occuring less and less and less.
I had it again last night.
It all started playing out just as I had seen it go hundreds of times before. Its like watching Star Wars for the gazillionth time. I had seen this movie so many times, I know all the lines by heart. I know every scene.
Right where I usually wake up and once again miss my stage debut with the Four Horsemen…it kept going. We played. I was scared. I was elated. I was doing all I could to tread water — keeping up with these guys. Then we start to play a song I didn’t know. I didn’t recognize it. James, Lars and Jason are rolling with it but I’m doing my best to improvise knowing I am blowing it bigger than shit. James is scowling at me. He’s pissed. The song is about to tank. As he’s playing, he slides over to one of the roadies on the side, mouths some instruction and moments later…the sound to my bass guitar is cut off. Its over.
I failed. I slide off stage humiliated. Hated by my heroes.
I wake up.
>sigh<
So after all the years…this is how it all comes to an end.
At almost 35 years of age, I still listen to hard rock and heavy metal music. My metal heroes are in their mid to late 40s. They still kick it out and I still pick it up. So I guess the weird and crazy dreams will continue. Hopefully next time around I can rock the house proper. 
More weird dream posts as they happen.
G.
