There are a number of other scenes that I remembered vividly when I woke up in the middle of the night, but the following is the only one that’s stuck. I either got a phone call or ran into Dan Snaith (Caribou) and he asked me if I could sub in for him at a little DJ gig he had on Wednesday night at a bar in Grand Center, STL. I think a bunch of other things I’ve forgotten happened in the dream, but eventually I realized it was Wednesday evening and I needed to get over to the bar. I rode the Metro to Grand (I had mistakenly thought the bar was in the CWE and had told someone this, but realized my mistake in time) and walked the couple of blocks south to the bar, which was called the Gaslight Station or something similar. It was only 7:30, but it was after dark. The bar was on the northeast corner of an intersection and I think the opaque parts of its outer walls were light blue, but it had large shopfront windows. There were two narrow rooms at the entryway, one of which was lenticular in plan (inside of a curved part of the exterior wall) and the other was a passage into the main part of the bar. The DJ gear was in the lenticular room on a counter; it consisted of what appeared to be a single turntable with a CD slot and maybe some slots for memory cards. There was a large black backpack full of records, CDs, and cassette cartons. For what seemed like a long time, I played one selection after another from records and CDs, wishing that there were two turntables so I could mix seamlessly. Often I seemed to forget about my duties for a while after a song ended, so that nothing would be playing. Eventually some people made song requests, including “Come Together” by the Beatles, which I found in one of the cassette cartons, a large collection of cassettes of perhaps the Beatles’ entire oeuvre, in a glossy yellow box. But I couldn’t find a slot on the machine for cassettes. Basically I was doing a pretty poor job of DJing. No one seemed to be complaining, though. At the end of the night, I packed up all the stuff and left. The next morning, which was wintry-sunny, I was staying with maybe my entire class, as well as a lot of other people, in a motel that sat along the south and west edges of a large parking lot. Dan was also there and as we were all packing up to leave, I found him and retrieved some belongings of my own that I’d left in the music backpack. I wasn’t sure if he was upset about my lackluster DJing, and I just let it go.
Actually, I remember one other scene, probably occurring before the above one, which was also after dark; I was in a city, maybe New Orleans, maybe Keene, in a shopping center parking lot, and I went into a painted cinder-block building on its eastern edge trying to get to a transit station, I think, on the other side of it. Various hallways of the building seemed not to lead to the other side, though. I went down some stairs and encountered university-age students apparently leaving school for the night, and I followed them back up the stairs. One was telling a story to the others about someone they all knew, and she helpfully explained more background to me so I’d understand what they were talking about. I think I exited the building, but I don’t remember if I went to the station from there.