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Oct. 15th, 2004 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rusty_haloI had the most incredibly vivid dream last night. I haven't had a vivid dream that I remembered well in YEARS.
I was walking down the street in Manhattan, and as I walked past a restaurant with outdoor seating, I saw Layne Staley sitting with a group of people--like record industry management type people. Naturally I stopped and stared, then went into the restaurant and got a seat next to his table, right near him.
I saw trying not to be rude, but he noticed me staring, so we started talking. I said that I was just marveling that he looked so healthy. I didn't mention that he was supposed to be dead, because I felt that would've probably been rude and upsetting. He did look healthy; older, mid-thirties, the age he would have been now, but relatively healthy. Like, as if he'd cleaned up in the mid-nineties and gotten better and lived.
Then I walked with him down the street after leaving the restaurant. He was saying that he was in NY for the MTV Unplugged concert. Even though that was really in 1996, the dream was set in the present.
The thing that was so vivid was that I knew I was dreaming, I knew he is dead, yet there he was, standing right in front of me. So I was just marveling, in awe, knowing that the dream was going to end and appreciating every moment of it. And it kept going for a long time, as we walked down the street and talked, and I marveled at how healthy and alive he looked, and how beautiful his eyes were.
Then I woke up. Reality SUCKS.
The other thing is that I used to dream about him ALL the time, back when I used to have really vivid dreams regularly. I even did an art project in 9th grade based on a dream of him. But I haven't dreamed about him for YEARS, probably about seven years, actually. So it was like visiting with an old friend. (A friend that my subconscious made up based on a real person and inserted into my dreams, but still.)
This dream was probably because I have been obsessively collecting AIC live bootleg videos off of ebay in an attempt to make up for the fact that I never saw them live. It's been quite educational; you learn so much more about a band by getting a feel for their live performances. I got one yesterday that was probably the best I've seen, Hollywood late 1992, the band TOTALLY on, Layne looking gorgeous, in control, on top of the world, performing unbelievably well, his voice PERFECT. Plus, the band was having FUN--they pulled a kid from the crowd to play drums, and Layne stage dived twice, once from REALLY high up. Too cool.
And then after that I watched Live Facelift for the hundred-billionth time (a professionally shot video of a late 1990 AIC show). Layne is so good in that, so passionate, powerful, beautiful, such an incredible voice. How could the guy in that video, who is 23 years old and in his prime and unbelievably talented and gorgeous and awesome, end up the way he did? I hate the way he died. I really just can't wrap my brain around it.
So I went to bed thinking, y'know, I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead. Thus, lovely bittersweet dream.
I was walking down the street in Manhattan, and as I walked past a restaurant with outdoor seating, I saw Layne Staley sitting with a group of people--like record industry management type people. Naturally I stopped and stared, then went into the restaurant and got a seat next to his table, right near him.
I saw trying not to be rude, but he noticed me staring, so we started talking. I said that I was just marveling that he looked so healthy. I didn't mention that he was supposed to be dead, because I felt that would've probably been rude and upsetting. He did look healthy; older, mid-thirties, the age he would have been now, but relatively healthy. Like, as if he'd cleaned up in the mid-nineties and gotten better and lived.
Then I walked with him down the street after leaving the restaurant. He was saying that he was in NY for the MTV Unplugged concert. Even though that was really in 1996, the dream was set in the present.
The thing that was so vivid was that I knew I was dreaming, I knew he is dead, yet there he was, standing right in front of me. So I was just marveling, in awe, knowing that the dream was going to end and appreciating every moment of it. And it kept going for a long time, as we walked down the street and talked, and I marveled at how healthy and alive he looked, and how beautiful his eyes were.
Then I woke up. Reality SUCKS.
The other thing is that I used to dream about him ALL the time, back when I used to have really vivid dreams regularly. I even did an art project in 9th grade based on a dream of him. But I haven't dreamed about him for YEARS, probably about seven years, actually. So it was like visiting with an old friend. (A friend that my subconscious made up based on a real person and inserted into my dreams, but still.)
This dream was probably because I have been obsessively collecting AIC live bootleg videos off of ebay in an attempt to make up for the fact that I never saw them live. It's been quite educational; you learn so much more about a band by getting a feel for their live performances. I got one yesterday that was probably the best I've seen, Hollywood late 1992, the band TOTALLY on, Layne looking gorgeous, in control, on top of the world, performing unbelievably well, his voice PERFECT. Plus, the band was having FUN--they pulled a kid from the crowd to play drums, and Layne stage dived twice, once from REALLY high up. Too cool.
And then after that I watched Live Facelift for the hundred-billionth time (a professionally shot video of a late 1990 AIC show). Layne is so good in that, so passionate, powerful, beautiful, such an incredible voice. How could the guy in that video, who is 23 years old and in his prime and unbelievably talented and gorgeous and awesome, end up the way he did? I hate the way he died. I really just can't wrap my brain around it.
So I went to bed thinking, y'know, I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead I wish he wasn't dead. Thus, lovely bittersweet dream.