dreams

Last night I dreamt I uncovered a conspiracy: Placebo's record label were using mind-controlling nose-studs to control bands. Brian's diamante nose-stud had turned him into a capatalist drone, and that was why Placebo didn't give the audience any love when I saw them [in real life] in September. Luckily, I was able to relieve Brian of the brain-washing piercing, and restore him to his music-loving, fan-appreciating self. He was very pleased.

The night before I dreamt I hugged Wil Anderson at a special Australia Day Glasshouse event.

Oh, and my mate Bec dreamt she was the first female king of Austria, and ran up rather a large tab in Austrian shops.