So last night I dreamt that I was somehow in college, or at least living a college lifestyle again. I had two roommates; one was in a band, and the other was Sergio, who may, or may not, have been in a band. We all had fairly elaborate rigs for our projects or gigs, and I had a bunch of pedals I was arranging -- but they were by my keyboard, not my guitar.
If you opened the back door to our place, there was a scene straight out of, well...you decide. There were gurus from India, singing mantras, with tons of hippie followers dressed up as though they, too, were from India. But playing along with their singing was a college marching band dressed pretty much like the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and possibly a rock band. There were war elephants with howdas on top, charging around also. It was summer, and there was a lot of dust. It was loud when the door opened, but of course completely silent when the door wasn't open.
There was not a woodblock player, Serg.
In the dream, my now-wife came over to visit, and I was perplexed as to why the mystery roommate, who was building a pedalboard for his gig, was getting nowhere. Sergio was doing his "build from scratch" thing on a piece of masonite, no one understood what he was up to, but I tried to loan him my Fulltone wah, which he rejected in favor of some homebrew thing. Suddenly, Sergio turned into my brother Robert, who is an artist; oddly enough, in real life I offered Robert a couple of spare Boss tuners I had laying around that I found in a box last week. And he said he didn't need them. So...go figure.
I was excited to open the back door to show my wife the scene, and I described it for her. But when I opened the door, everyone but a few hippies and a tuba player had gone. So she just gave me "the look", rolled her eyes, and went back to her place.
Meantime, I had bought a new Fulltone device that I really wanted and thought I needed, but I couldn't figure out what it actually did, and no one else could, either. Looked cool, though... Fortunately it fit into a nylon case I had in the studio, and I simply put it on a shelf so it wouldn't gather too much dust.
Dreams are really, really strange things.