It’s become increasingly rare, but it’s finally happened again. I had a dream involving a rock star!
I used to have this sort of dream with more frequency, but perhaps the reason it doesn’t seem to happen much anymore is because many of my rock dreams get fulfilled. I can flip through my CDs, cassette tapes, and records, and am quite pleased to say that I’ve seen many of these artists in concert. Every music artist that I can check of my list makes me quite a happy man. Unfortunately, there are many who have passed away that I would have loved to see live, but I missed my chance. One of the bands I thought I missed the boat on was Rush.
When Rush stepped away from active duty in 2015, I very quickly thought afterwards how silly it was that I never looked into getting tickets. It’s really bizarre that I never saw them live. They’ve been in my music collection ever since I was 18 and found a copy of All The World’s A Stage at a nearby flea market for a few dollars (it also had a copy of A Farewell to Kings lodged in the sleeve, making it an unofficial triple-vinyl collection). I should have seen them multiple times, really. Nevertheless, knowing that farewell tours aren’t always what they appear to be, I figure I’d get another chance in a few years. Then Rush drummer Neil Peart died in 2020, which killed that hope of mine, at least as far as I knew.
Now as both vocalist/bassist Geddy Lee and guitarist Alex Lifeson returned to the stage under the Rush banner in 2026, I for sure couldn’t pass this up. While I was pleased to scoop up tickets, I’ll admit they cost higher than any other tickets I’ve purchased. I’d bet I could have seen the band at another show from the preceding decade at half the price, and perhaps even less than that. My attitude is if you’re willing to pay the price, you can’t complain that you did. The tour has been generating lots of positive buzz and discussion, and I’m really looking forward to catching a hometown show of theirs in Toronto.
I mention all the above as a prologue to the dream I’m about to tell you. This follows up two other dreams I shared in the past (one involving Lemmy and the other Ice-T). I have likely had a few other music-related dream since those ones, but none that stuck around in my head much further than the point I woke up.
The dream began, out of all places, at a Zellers. Zellers closed their doors nation-wide around fifteen years ago. The last time I recall going to one was when they were having their closing sales, and I used the opportunity to buy things for the apartment I was soon moving into. There have always been rumours that this department store franchise will rise from the dead, and it seems that select stores are actually making their way back this year. I never imagined that this Canadian business would come back completely to its former glory, which included one of the best toy selections near me outside of Toys R Us, but my unconscious mind nonetheless gave it a shot.
I can’t recall which location of Zellers the one in my dreams was, but we never advanced far into the building. We didn’t need to go far at all to see what we needed. When my shopping companion (who else but my twin brother) and I stepped into the store, Geddy Lee was there to greet us. Not us specifically, and not as an employed greeter like Walmart would famously use, but standing at a table in anticipation of autograph seekers and fans that would be certain to flood the store. The table was set up pretty much right in the entrance way of the store. You’d think they’d place it somewhere on the inside so not to block off the main route in and out, but my thoughts never accounted for emergencies. As it would turn out, getting Geddy Lee’s autograph was soon to become the emergency.
What was one of the finest bass players in rock history doing at a Zellers near us, we thought. Whether or not there were decorations or signage commemorating the visit, I can’t quite recall, but he had a slightly annoyed look or one of second-hand embarrassment on our behalf since we were oblivious to the velvet rope-laced, serpentine line that extended around the table. We thought he was just standing at an empty checkout line, so we felt no guilt in walking up to him to shake his hand. He sort of motioned to the line next to him and said “I’m kinda busy here”, and from what we took away from this is that he was signing autographs.
I had (in real life) finally got around to purchasing Geddy’s autobiography/memoir, My Effin’ Life, which I’m sure at some point he had book signings for. I know for certain he did for his bass book (Geddy Lee’s Big Beautiful Book of Bass), and I don’t know if it was one of these specific books he was promoting here. I assume it was for some kind of book because he doesn’t seem the type to slap his name on a portable grill or pasta maker.
We looked at the clock, and figured we had limited time to find something for Geddy to sign for us. I’m not sure why we felt pressure considering that there was nobody queued up for this once in a lifetime experience. For some logic that only made sense in a dream, my brother stayed behind and it was tasked to me to drive home to come back with an item for each of us to get signed. We both had something in mind. For me, my thoughts went straight toward my massive magazine collection knowing that I had some issue of some publication with his picture on it. In reality, I can only think off-hand of a 1991 issue of Guitar Player with both Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson on it. In reality, that particular magazine in my collection has a key page missing from it that removes a portion of an article about Queensrÿche, so I’ll need to replace that issue at some point. It would be ideal to get that one autographed and framed since it cannot be fully read anyway, but in the dream world, I grabbed a different magazine that I don’t believe actually exists.
My brother also wanted a magazine to get signed. I do know that through a Bass Player magazine subscription in recent years, he had an issue with a Geddy Lee cover story. In the dream, that was not his request. He wanted a different magazine altogether, one with Alex Lifeson on the cover. Even in this false reality I was confused by the request. It would be like getting a Sean Connery photo autographed by Roger Moore. Nonetheless, I had a mission to complete, so I went out to the parking lot.
The car ride home was completely uneventful. If you were expecting some high-stakes car chase scene fitting of a Steve McQueen movie, then my dream is not for you. But you may as well keep reading to see how it went.
Truthfully, I don’t believe the car ride was even part of the dream. It just cut to the next scene like a sitcom, but there was no laughter to be had in my apartment that afternoon. The scene began with me in the midst of an unkempt apartment with most of my earthly possession spread over every available inch of floor space. If you’ve ever had to empty virtually all your storage containers or clear off your book cases and shelving to find one specific item, not only is it a hint that you’ve probably got too much stuff, but also that you’ve temporarily lost your mind. A dream is no place to be thinking coherently, nor is it a place where luck is on my side, so you know I’d be tested further.
To compound my frustration, there were people walking through my apartment to distract me from my magazine hunt. I’m not sure their purpose, but I think they were taking tours of it, which is something I’ve gone through in the past year where the place I was renting was put up for sale. I tried my best to tune the passer-byers out, but I couldn’t. It’s hard to act casual when total strangers are in your living space. Despite my best efforts, I was at my wit’s end.
Where to turn when all seems lost? Mom! She’s always got some ideas, and it would at least be comforting to talk to her, so I gave her a call. At some point in the conversation, my emotions got the better of me, and I burst into tears.
“I really wanted tuh..tuh..tuh get Geddy Lee’s autograph, but I cuh..cuh..cuh..CAN’T!”
It was an embarrassing display, being super-emotional over some scribbles on a bit of paper. This almost certainly came from reality. Weeks earlier, I saw the Pete Roth Trio featuring Bill Bruford (King Crimson, Yes, Earthworks, etc.) on drums, and it was advertised by the show promoter that Bruford was going to be signing autographs following the show. For something I didn’t even consider, I got reasonably excited about the prospect, and packed my copy of Bill Bruford: The Autobiography for him to sign. The autograph session was cancelled for some unknown reason. However, I just shrugged and went home.
Why I cried in the dream and not in a similar real-world scenario, I have no idea. I have a modest autograph collection, but I’m far from obsessive about it. I was simply happy for the experience to see a once-retired drummer pick up his sticks again, as I will be when I see Rush perform. I may shed a tear or two during the show, especially if they include “Jacob’s Ladder” in the set-list, but not over an autograph.
I woke up before I managed to wipe my tears away, collect myself, and haul ass back to Zellers to pick up my probably disappointed brother.
Naturally, I had more questions that answers when I woke up:
- Why didn’t I just grab a Rush record or CD to get signed? Or buy a copy of whatever Geddy was promoting at the store and save the headache?
- What did my mom tell me on the phone, other than general assurances that everything was going to be ok?
- What did my brother do at the Zellers in my absence? Browse the store? Look at his phone (he didn’t even text me for a status update)? Apply for a Club Z card?
Before coming up with my dream illustration, I wondered how I could possibly draw a convincing Zellers location. I knew I couldn’t do it, so I littered the surroundings with department store nostalgia.
It should go without saying, but the above image was not generated using AI.
Armchair Maestro 