Dave and Taylor of the Foo Fighters

It was my graduation day. I woke up around 9 a.m. Both of my parents were awake. I talked to them, not about the graduation. They took whatever I said as a sign that we could all go back to sleep. When we all woke up later in the day, we sort of had to hurry towards the venue for the ceremony.

When we got there, my fellow graduates were in a long line. I was relieved to know I wasn’t late.

I was wearing a sky blue top and a sky blue skirt. They had ugly, mismatched patterns. My mom was wearing a plain, sky blue dress.

Not wanting to fall in line right away (there was really no rush; the line was rather long, and besides, I didn’t want to go and talk to my… friends… who were already in line), I looked around the building and bumped into this pretty famous rock band that was going to perform at the ceremony. I excitedly talked to the band members. While I was dreaming this part, I knew exactly which band they were, but I’d forget later in the dream.

My mom realized she had to pay for something she owed right away because she had just heard that the rates were going to rise soon, and she already owed over 12,000 (dollars or pesos — I don’t know) as it is. She, my dad and I got in the car and left the venue.

Outside, several men were guiding a nervous-looking horse down a grassy hill. My dad drove off the road and onto the hillside. He drove alongside the horse to help it stay calm.

Later, we were in a large room in a building. The room had a high ceiling, and there was some sort of backdrop made up of discrete stacks of bricks, with plants crawling around them. There were four columns of numbers. The first two columns weren’t aligned, but the last two were.

Dave Grohl was there. He was tugging at different parts of the backdrop, trying to get the first two columns to align. He couldn’t. Eventually he ran off somewhere, in search of someone or something, part of his attempt at fixing the backdrop.

I didn’t follow him. I stayed in the building and talked to Taylor Hawkins. It was an easy, pleasant, comfortable conversation. I ended up mentioning that it was my graduation day and that I met the members of the band that was playing at the ceremony.

“Which band?” he asked.

“I… can’t remember,” I said.

“Well, they must not be that famous then.”

“They are… hang on… I think it’s Linkin’ Rejects.”

“Everybody knows the Linkin’ Rejects!”

“Oh, wait, no, it was the All-American Rejects! Oh, wait, no, hang on…” I turned to my sister, who was apparently behind me. I asked her, “Which band was there at the graduation venue?”

She said, “OSM”.

I turned back to Taylor and said, “Ah, it was One Small Miracle, after all.”

He laughed because I forgot who OSM was, when OSM was apparently quite the famous pop rock band.

I said, “Well, you can’t blame me for forgetting them; you guys are my favourite band!” I laughed.

And then I woke up.


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