Before I went to sleep, I was thinking, “Why is ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ still in the top twenty after fourteen weeks? Who’s still buying it? Who did that song that goes ‘Got a one way ticket to a something destination’?” (I know now: it’s the Sugababes, I believe.) “And why do they have to play that evil Toploader song on indie night at The Venue? Surely everyone else is as fed up with it as I am.” (Yes, my thought process is weird. I wouldn't admit to it, except it probably accounts for how music-based this dream was.)
I was at my parents’ shop, sitting in a chair, facing a wall and listening to the radio. The song at number eight came on. They announced that it was “Holler” by The Spice Girls. Even though I hadn’t know how it went until then, I recognised the tune.
I was in my bedroom, although it looked nothing like my real one, sprawled on the bed. My mother came in. I asked her to pick something up off the floor. She did, but dropped it on another part of the floor. I hoped she didn’t find and confiscate the half-empty box of Jaffa Cakes I had.
(Are disagreements with my mother going to feature in every dream now I’ve dyed my hair for the second time?)
I went to a cinema with my friends Soppygit and Ibid. We had to walk a long way before we handed over our tickets, and by the time we got there, I had forgotten where I’d put mine. I took two pieces of card out of my right pocket. I couldn’t see very well, so I handed the woman taking them one of them. She gave it back. I looked at the second one – I could see my old school’s crest printed on it, so I doubted that was the ticket – but she accepted it.
After the film, I headed out of the cinema with my boyfriend Bryn. In front of us were two girls in their late teens. “NSYNC!” one said to the other, excitedly.
There were posters concerning the group everywhere. But as I turned to go up a flight of stairs, I noticed three teenage boys at the bottom of it. They started playing “Come On Eileen” by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, but stopped after a few seconds.
Could they be from NSYNC? I wondered. I looked back at them. I found them physically repulsive, and they all had idiotic expressions on their faces, so it seemed possible, but I wasn’t really sure what any of them except Justin looked like, so I couldn’t be certain. Besides, members of boy bands change their images fast. I made up my mind to memorise what they looked like, so I could check it out on the Internet when I got home. One of them looked about eighteen and had blonde hair in a style you could only get away with if you were in a boy band. Although, presuming this was Justin, it looked better than normal. One of them was short and had short dark hair. The other looked like my online friend Twi’s brother: he was tall and lanky, had long straight brown hair and wore glasses. If it is them, (my online friend) Ang is going to be so jealous, I thought. I looked back about three times, and hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. I didn’t want Bryn to think I found them attractive.
I was lying in bed beside Bryn and he said something. I answered, and he said something else, unrelated. This continued, until I realised that he wasn't actually talking to me: during the Christmas holidays, he’d recorded himself talking, as if he was on a radio show, and now he was playing the tape.
The talking ended, and a jingle sounded. I was impressed by its quality, but it didn’t announce what radio station it was. A song started playing, and suddenly, we were sitting beside a TV where we could watch the appropriate video. It was some woman singing an upbeat pop song. I was about to complain, when I noticed that Bryn was headbanging. Ah, it must be Tori Amos or someone, I thought. I looked at the screen and saw the singer had dishevelled brown hair. (Shrug. And since when are her songs cheesy pop OR headbangable?)
The next song was sort of indie-jazz; the main tune was played by a saxophone, but there was a heavy drum beat in the background. Now my pseudo godfather was sitting with us. He adjusted his position so he was lying over Bryn’s lap. Then he balanced himself on mine too. Towards the end of the song, he started giggling hysterically. I was just glad it would end soon, since my arm was getting crushed. When it finished, he got up. I saw that Bryn had turned into some blonde-haired guy of about my age. “I wish I’d started singing along earlier on,” he said.
I woke up. My arm was sore and the tune was stuck in my head. Cool! I thought. Like Paul McCartney I have dreamed the tune of a v. catchy song. Sadly, I forgot it a few minutes later.
