My Dream with You and David McComb

I'm watching a David McComb clip in a bar.  There are heavy curtains around the screen set in an alcove.

It has been slowed down.  It is a weird clip with a white background and dirty, rusty pipes.  David is playing guitar.  Later he stays for questions.  There are three people in the bar.

One is a woman dressed like an old hippy Indian, who asks about his children.  He says they are girls living in Sydney.  He walks offstage.  I wish he'd stayed or asked me questions, because I'm a regular, but I don't know what I would've asked or what we could talk about.

As I get up to leave, I see at the end of the bar a guy I used to know.  We met a long time ago.  He comes up and smiles.  He's younger, and not my physically ideal boy, but I know in my head last time I called him "prince".

We hug, I worry if my makeup is okay and close my eyes for too long.

We talk about the clip.  He says it was great to be able to see David from all sides (metaphorically), we talk about it more.  I can feel his arm is around me and I wonder if it's in a friendly way, and I realise it could be either.  My hand falls from his waist to his bottom, it's so tight.

He is wearing a really dark green western shirt and dark indigo jeans and cowboy boots. I adore strong colours.

I wonder where it might go.  He asks, "You're a mother, aren't you?", like he's trying to remember.  I answer.  He is walking forward and I am walking backward, and we both know it is to the bedroom.  He is close and holding me.  He smiles and asks, "Is tonight not the night?". I answer quickly, "Tonight is the night!".  And I realise I had always promised myself that I would not be hasty, but now I have changed my mind.  Then I look down, and look up and say, "but only if you want to ... I don't mean ...", and he smiles.  And we keep walking backwards.  And I wake up.