Yesterday morning I awoke from another dream about Brian May. That makes three dreams about Brian May in the past seven days. What do you mean, so what? While it would seem safe for you to assume that when I go to sleep at night, visions of clogs, the Red Special, big curly hair, and specially designed astronomy equipment dance through my head, this is not actually the case. Three Brian May dreams this week bring my grand total of dreams about Brian May that I have ever had to three.
I couldn't quite figure out why there was so much Brian May activity in my atmosphere, but then it occurred to me that maybe my subconscious was trying to root out a huge conspiracy. So here is my question: Is it possible that Brian May died and everyone is keeping it a secret because nobody wants to be the one to tell me? (By no one I mean my friends. I'm not suggesting that worldwide news organizations are tiptoeing around my feelings. There is not a global conspiracy going on, but the possibility of a local conspiracy is there.)
It is entirely plausible that my friends would keep that news from me, because who wants to tell me? They know the story of the friend I secretly blamed for Freddie's death. They have read up on Roger Taylor, and they remember the line that ends with, "...just hope that you aren't the one to break the news to me."
Yesterday afternoon, I asked LCG if that were the case. He claimed it was not. I was pretty sure he was telling the truth, but he could have been stalling for time. Later in the day, I had a chance to browse both the official Queen site, and the official Brian May site, and as near as I can tell, he is still alive and well and soft spoken and charming. Whew!
So, why all the dreams about Brian May? He is still alive, which is fabulous, but why has he been in my head all week? I have come up with two possible conclusions.
One: It is currently the month of May. And on May 1st, I was thinking about how much better May Day would be if it were Brian May Day. Those May Baskets would rule! Imagine getting a knock on your door, and opening it up to find that the neighborhood children had left you a basket of star charts and Queen 45s. And every time I write down the date, even if I just think May, I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I am correcting myself, "Ahem, that's Brian May."
Two: I have been watching lots of playoff hockey lately, and you can't have an arena sport without the constant presence of We Will Rock You. Usually, hearing that song in a sports context makes me roll my eyes and scream, "Pick another song! Do you realize that some people get soured on Queen just because sports teams overuse We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions? People are missing out because you can't keep your finger off the We Will Rock You button! Settle down!"
Lately though, every time I hear the drums start up I say, "Do you hear that? That is more change jingling into Brian May's pocket as we speak!" When you think of it that way, you will smile. I know I do. While Brian May is at home engaging in some sort of non-sports activity, he is making money off of the American sports industry. Good for him.
Anyway, since I have been watching so much playoff hockey and making the Brian May comment so many times a week, maybe that is why he has crept into my dreams. Or maybe he is waiting for We Will Rock You to play in one of my dreams so he can collect royalties from me. He's very clever, that Brian May.