Hollywood

Dependency sucks.

Last night I dreamt that I was riding around in a superficial Hollywood with Jay-Z and Madonna. Madonna and I were cuddling in the back of the Escalade with tinted windows. Jay-Z and I were discussing production techniques. Madonna got out at a red light and kissed me goodbye. Jay-Z and I rolled to his studio. When we got there he put a fat damp wad of bills in my hand. I told him I wasn’t expecting money to just hang out with him. He told me that if he didn’t have to bail it easily would have cost him that much anyway, as in if we were sipping Chrys at a club and doing coke all night. As we pulled away from his studio i felt a wad in the bills and on closer inspection saw that it was infact a bag of about 5 grams of weed and about 2 grams of some unknown yellow powder. We stopped at the beach and suddenly I found myself walking along this futuristic boardwalk along the ocean. Other beach-walkers were passing me and coming towards me all around me but i wasn’t anxious. 50 yards out on the water there was large pylons with symbols every 500 yards or so up the beach, each one an indicator for that particular airline’s or cruise’s hotel zone. JAL Air. KLM. Lufthansa. Northwest Airlines. Royal Dutch. I could only remember a flight card that said some flight starting with M, so I kept walking. On my walk it was nightime, but the sky was still painted with the markings of a illustrious sunset. Or maybe sunrise. Three 16 year old girls stopped me and we sat on a bench together. They wanted to know if I could boot for them. Remembering that I had a mickey of vodka on me I knew I could help them out. They were drinking slurpees and were already somewhat inebriated. I looked up to see two cops looking over me. I was surprised at how they had suddenly appeared without me even noticing their arrival. “Hello Sir, how are you this evening?” “I’m fine officer, how are you?” “Very well. Had anything to drink tonight?” “No, officer. Nothing at all.” Which was the truth. However I suddenly became conscious of the mysterious yellow powder in my pocket and the weed that Jay-Z had given me. This only really seemed to be a problem because I was in the States. I thought maybe my fame and lawyers could get me out of this one. My fear made the dream vanish and I chased it through my head eager to know how the story ended.