Here's One for the Dream Book...When I woke up this morning I heard the echoes of the last line of my last dream of the night.
"What did you do, raid kris ex's wardrobe?" Spoken by me, in my dream, to an audience of thousands (or billions 'cause I think we were broadcast live on TV). Followed by raucous laughter all around.
Okay let me backtrack. It was an event of immense proportions. The red carpet to end all red carpets. The concert-slash-award show-slash-celebrity roast of the millenium. VIP passes to this thing were like platinum, a press pass was like plutonium. I couldn't talk my way in to save my life, I wasn't on the list, I couldn't flirt with the security enough to garner an entrance for myself. I tried all the gully back-alley entranceways to sneak in.
Wasn't happening. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't on the list. I went to an upscale boutique and totally changed my style, a gown and stilettos, they whole thing. You know how you teleport places in dreams, and don't have to pay for shit. Then I slid in the middle of a pack of "video models" and somehow passed inspection, and greased right on in there. Everyone was there. I took a seat deep within the crowd.
A funny thing happened during the awards presentation. No one in the crowd applauded for any of the candy-coated shit that was winning. As a matter of fact the glitterati came out of their seats and shouted out the shit that should've won, and why. It turned out there was no one in the crowd but us critics. The journalists. The writers. The hacks. Bonz Malone, Allen Scott Gordon, Carlito, Caramanica, exo, Danyel Smith, Dream Hampton, Kenji Jasper, Jazzbo, The Blackspot, Black Dog Bone, Meshack Blaque, The Bishop, Davey D, Gotti, Timmhotep, Miles Marshall Lewis, Datwon, the list goes on and on...anyone and everyone who ever wrote a word in print (or even on 360hiphop) was in the house.
And when it came to the punchline, it was funny, but I swear kris U were on some House of Boateng-ol'fly shit - I was bigging you up (and it was T.I. who raided your wardrobe, so I guess he was fly too). The line got a lot of laughs, but not at anyone's expense.
The after-burn lasted me well into the day. When I woke up, for the first time, I really felt like I was a part of something. Something deep, big, meaningful, impactful, resonant, long-lasting and pristine.
It was all a dream, but it made me want to start my own magazine.
So if someone has a really illmatic dream book in their posession, please hit me up and let me know...what does it all mean?
Peace to the scribes supreme, from 1 Queen.