So Osama Bin Laden, Kurt Cobain, Elvis and myself were hanging out in a Hash Bar in Amsterdam. No, it's not a joke, it's a dream I had. I think it was a dream. Anyway, we were sitting at a table together, not necessarily talking about anything in particular, but talking nonetheless. The weather, economy, fashion trends, and the coffee, which was surprisingly bad considering what it cost.

I couldn't find my spoon, the one I had been stirring my coffee with, and at first I thought that Kurt had taken it. He was kind of a dick, which is not what I expected at all, and *he* had a spoon. So I'm trying to pay attention to what Osama is saying, since he seems very intelligent (which is also not what I expected, and should have been a tip-off that this was a dream after all) and he seemed to be very knowledgeable about current fashions, despite the fact that he wore a bedsheet.

Right, the spoon. So anyway, the coffee was so bad that I gave up on the thought that stirring it might actually help. Then I thought that the coffee might have been so very bad that it actually dissolved the spoon, which might explain the taste. Then I thought that dissolved spoon in the coffee might have *improved* the taste, and I should be thankful that it did not taste worse. My Inner Philosopher perked up and noted that if I should view all potentially bad events this way, my outlook on life would improve dramatically. I told my Inner Philosopher that he was right - the glass was not half full, it was completely full - of expensive coffee that tasted like dogshit mixed with dissolved silver and Windex. That shut him right up.

It eventually dawned on me that the three people I was seated with had something in common: No one knew for sure whether they were really dead or not. (except me of course, because I was talking with them) I started to worry that I might end up with the same condition, through osmosis or some weird media-virus. I thought of my parents, not knowing if they should put my Marillion CD collection up on E-Bay or not, because I would be *Pissed* if they did that and I wasn't really dead yet. I thought of my friends suddenly rushing off to verify reports that I was sighted hitch-hiking through Oregon, or making out with Paris Hilton backstage at a Black Eyed Peas concert. The whole thing made me sad.

I suddenly wished I had a coffee, and then realized that I did have a coffee, so I edited my wish and wished for a good coffee, and a spoon. I asked Elvis if I could use his spoon, partially because he hadn't used it, and partially because I love hearing him talk.

"Yeah, sure," he said, "Go right ahead man."

Blog on,
-CZ

Labels: Dreams, Inner Philosopher