Saturday, October 08, 2016

Amateur Dream Analysis

DREAM: I'm at an Eminem concert with my mother (!) at the Palace of Auburn Hills.  It's a theatre-in-the-round type of stage, with Em in the middle of the arena and the first several rows around the stage are, in fact, long dinner tables like it's a banquet.  The people seated at said tables are formally dressed and are being served proper meals by a wait staff.  Behind these tables is regular arena seating, where Mom and I are sitting.

After the opening song, the in-arena camera picks me (and a couple of others) out of the crowd and we're chosen for the "Mic Down" later in the concert.  As the guy in front of me explains, this is a bit during Eminem's concerts when he brings a few random people on stage and then tears them apart via a clever rap, essentially like a roast.  I shrug and say sure.  My mother couldn't be more amused by this scenario.  Sadly, I woke up before the whole thing played out.

: Yeah, this was a weird one.  Let's just get it out of the way right now, I'm not an Eminem fan.  Enjoy a few of his big hits but that's it --- this is probably why, in the dream, I didn't recognize any of his songs.  It was all just a garbled blur of hip-hop whenever he was actually performing. 

As such, I have no idea what an Eminem concert is like, which is why I'm pretty sure the 'Mic Down' doesn't actually exist.  It seems like something that could exist, however, and frankly, I'm sure countless fans would love to be good-naturedly ripped by Eminem in front of thousands of people.  I'm one of those odd people who thinks it would be a lot of fun to be subjected to a roast.  It couldn't possibly go any worse than the Chevy Chase roast, right?  Right?  And really, what's the worst that Eminem could say about me?  I'd just grin and make some snide remark about Lipton's Brisk Iced Tea commercials.  Of course, the obvious psychological point is that in my dream, I'm being set up to be humiliated, and as much as I say I would've been cool with it, I woke up before the humiliation actually occurred.  This definitely raises some questions about my self-confidence that should be addressed in HEY LOOK OVER THERE IT'S A NEW PARAGRAPH 

I've also never been to the Palace, but I've certainly seen enough Pistons games on TV to know that the place isn't all classed up long tables and a chandelier.  It's just your regular arena.  Maybe this was a manifestation of my subconscious desire to see more gimmick-themed sports stadiums.  For instance, if you're going to call it "the Palace," why NOT go the whole nine yards and give the entire building a regal gimmick?  The Sacramento Kings are in the process (sorta, kinda) of building a new arena so they're a perfect candidate to design that would essentially be an ongoing production of Medieval Times, except with basketball games in lieu of jousting.  This would be amazing.  The fans would all be encouraged to wear their Sunday best to games, female fans could be given fake pearls to shake in outrage at opposing players, everyone gets monocles to drop in outrage, etc.  The Kings players would literally be led onto the court on horseback like the Knights of the round table returning to Camelot --- tell me your average NBA player wouldn't love having his ego pampered like this.    

And now, finally, we ask the big question, why in the world am I there with my mom?  If I'm an unlikely candidate to be at an Eminem concert, my mother is quite possibly THE unlikeliest candidate to be at said show.  She's easily in the bottom five worldwide, right there with my dad, the Pope, Oswaldo Perez of Lima, Peru (he knows why) and, of course, Stan, who would've been there were it not for the fact that he's shuffled off this mortal coil.  Ergo, the two of us there together seems like some kind of weird practical joke…and frankly, it could've been.  My brother is a huge Eminem fan and, since we do nothing but bicker with each other, I could definitely see a scenario where I win Eminem tickets in some contest and then, spitefully, not only go to the show myself but invite our own mother rather than just take my brother or give him the tickets outright.  If this sounds immature, well, it is.  "Mark, aren't you and your brother both in your mid-30's?"  Yes, yes we are. 

Why my mother would go along with this idea is still beyond me, so I'm at a loss to explain her presence in the dream.  I did take her to an Elton John show for her birthday a few years ago, and there's certainly a much-publicized connection between Eminem and Sir Elton.  Also, my name is Mark and her name is Margaret, so between us, we're literally an M & M.  Hmm, could it be that I'm dreaming of Eminem's criticism of me as a projection of what "M& M" thinks, namely my mother's criticisms and my own self-doubts?  Man, this is another fascinating subject that could really reveal a lot of HEY LOOK, IT'S THE END OF THE POST.

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