atrahasis

I had a dream the other night about Layne Staley. I was kicking it with him, Sean Kinney, and Jerry Cantrell. We all were walking around in a bright, sunny sky, and ended up going into an urban setting. The actual building we wound up at had a lot of spray-painted graffiti.

Layne decided he needed to shoot up. I guess he knew a guy there. I pretty much had to trust that he did, because I never saw it. Everybody in the immediate vicinity seemed to be "okay" with this, as they were used to it, but I reacted as I normally would.

I don't ever apologize for being who I am. If for some reason you can't handle that, then it's your loss. Layne had a hypodermic needle sticking out of his head.. I grabbed it, yanked it out, and started to say, "Buddy, if there's anything you need to talk about..."

"I DON'T want to fucking TALK ABOUT IT," he interrupted.

I quickly gauged the reaction of Sean and Jerry. Their eyes were darting about; as if to suggest that not only was this well-trodden ground within this particular company, but that they were also waiting to see how this scene was going to play itself out.

There was a few seconds where Layne's outburst dominated everyone. But some rock station was blasting through a nearby radio, and it happened to be playing "Paradise City" by Guns 'N' Roses. I rolled my eyes, sucked in a breath of air, and offered up my best Axl Rose impersonation. Layne busted up laughing, and so did everyone else in suit.

Then I'm walking down the street looking backwards at where I came from. I saw a school bus letting off children. Then I heard music, in the Alice in Chains style:

I want to live,
I want to be free --
I wanna destroy my noisy guitar
and sing in harmony