Steve Kent's 115th Dream

I just woke from a dream which I think may be prophetic. I was at a party where a lot of food was served. Many people I knew from several periods of my life were there, but no one in my family. Every few minutes, my vision and hearing would be overtaken by an ad -- and I'm not just trying out a hyperbolic metaphor. Carefully placed in my surroundings, I'd see professionally produced hallucinations for life insurance, or deli meat or whatever.
I was going to ask whether these ads were normal -- if everyone at the party was having them -- but as soon as I went into ad mode, I couldn't find anyone I felt comfortable asking whether I was normal or having mini-epileptic fits.
The most effective ad by far struck when the little brother of a friend remarked on how much Monroe shocks improve our lives. As he spoke, the Monroe logo appeared below him. I was already inclined to agree with him, but what sealed the deal was when he got into his wheelchair. Which had shock absorbers.

A few other things that happened which may be less prophetic:

• There was a concert before the party. The crowd started moshing a bit, and my brain hit pause and started designing concert stages for maximum mosh safety. When the dream resumed, the band wasn't playing and people were just mingling. At center stage stood a Utah State University podium, painted Aggie blue but with bloody, smeared handprints on it. A buddy from high school said, "I think they should probably put a new coat of paint on this," and I replied, "I think they keep it that way as a warning." (Incidentally, in real life a couple years ago, I went to a concert on the USU campus where a semi-local punk band was playing. A student coordinator told the crowd a dozen times to stop moshing. It was a pretty considerate mosh, so I felt a little bad about wearing steel-toe boots.)
• After the concert, a good friend from middle school asked if he could use my phone. I said yeah, but only if he promised not to laugh. I then produced my flip-phone, and he laughed. It was set to extra user-unfriendly mode, and I showed him how to unlock it. He said, "Ha! No button does what it's supposed to do," and I said, "They do what they're designed to do -- they were just designed by an idiot." Which says a lot about my feelings toward my phone.
• In line for food, a friend started mashing greasy food onto his brand-new T-shirt. Somehow I knew that he had several T-shirts with him and was planning to cycle through them throughout the day. I asked him what he was doing, and he said, "This way, I can be sure to have a shirt with food stains on it this early in the day."

Now I know how Dylan must have felt.