I had a dream last night.

Whitney Houston asked me to be her back-up singer.

She originally hired me as her costume designer.

I delivered her completed costumes to her dressing room hours before her show — and she was there to greet me! She was so delighted with them — and with me — that she told me I just had to be on stage with her.

So there I was, hours before her concert, learning moves and harmonies. But I still had to make costumes for me.

I left her dressing room on a high and I sought out my car. Because, naturally, that’s where I made my costumes.

And, by the way, my car was parked it in a multilevel office building (not a carpark) that featured open walkways between the central lift and levels of floor around the outside of the building. It was freaky, because I was on level 18 — a hefty drop.

When I returned to the concert venue, there were dozens of same-looking dressing room doors backstage, and I couldn’t remember which was Whitney’s. The signage had been removed from her door — presumably to stop walk-ins — and, with me wandering aimlessly between rooms, the security guards were getting toey. On top of that, the concert was just about to start, and the only way onto the stage was through a dressing room.

I ran frantically from door to door, finding them all locked, knowing I would miss the concert…


[Feature image by Arek Socha from Pixabay.]

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