A series of ongoing celebrity encounters that occur, literally, in my dreams.
Last night I dreamed that I was in some summer camp hall and Neil Young was performing for a small gathering of people. I was on next, but I didn't have my guitar. I'd be playing on a piano, which I rarely practice and have scarcely performed on. When it came time to play, I went to check out the piano, a small baby grand with no top. I sat down and noticed the keys were not ivory, but spines of old books lined all up and down the keyboard. When I formed a chord with my fingers and pressed on the corresponding books, the piano would sound. Of course there were no white or black keys to tell notes by, just a bunch of book spines.
I improvised a little rag while my mind raced for songs I knew on piano. The books actually played okay. Bob Dylan was on next, so I thought I'd play a take on "Like A Rolling Stone," which has simple enough chords. At the other end of the room there was a perfectly normal piano, so I asked if we could switch the keys from the good piano for the books - the thought didn't occur to me that I could just play the good piano. The keys couldn't be switched. By now it was getting awkward with the audience.
We found an old Wurlitzer electric piano that had normal keys, and I settled on playing a piano interpretation of Metric's "Combat Baby." But one leg of the Wurlitzer was wonky so it kept falling over backwards.