Okay, so I had the strangest dream.
I was, I guess, for lack of a better word, a minister. The church I presided over was one of those churches where people tend to sing gospel music more than preach (the kind of church that is actually a lot cooler than 60 minutes of being told you are going to hell). I had just been promoted to minister since the last minister of the church had just recently died.
So anyway, I had to help lead all the songs that were being sung. And, if you know me, I don't know any gospel songs really. So people would be singing and I'd be fudging the words and mumbling incoherently or doing that thing here you sing, "la la la la" to at least make it look like you are interested. And if you do that in church you can get away with it because other people's voices tend to drown you out. In the dream, though, I couldn't because I had a microphone, like a game show host has a microphone. A long skinny one, and whenever the songs would break down into this sort of spot where everybody would hum in unison or something like that, almost like people just know when a good spot for an instrumental section comes. During those spots, I would wander out into the audience and ask them to share stories of their hardships and triumphs with the congregation.
Pretty weird, huh?
But then... finally a song was played that I knew the words to and I was just belting it out with the guest singer who was Gordon Downie, except that he was trying to dress as the devil (who in my dreams wore tacky, tacky, but evil pajamas). Anyway, we were singing "Pretend" which isn't gospel music at all, but for some reason it was on the list of songs to sing. Then just before I wandered out into the audience for more testimonials Gord came up close to me to say:
"Hey, that was pretty good. Pretty good job, kid."
Yeah, it was a pretty good job, wasn't it?