‘Everyone Has Their ‘Number’’

Direct from the ‘Dreams You Actually Remember’ files…

To preface: things are really good. ‘Texas Country OnScene’ is gaining major interest without a show even airing.

Venues are interested in booking me to play more and more every day.

Granted, switching from beer to vodka because of gout issues has been difficult to gauge (another story for another day), but all in all…

… life is about to get really good. Which is where this dream comes in.

So… it’s my theory, among many theories, that every human has a number. That can be your jersey number, your Powerball/Mega Millions ball, or… the monetary figure that, in your opinion, will put you ‘over the top’ in everything.

For the record, and I’m not afraid to share it:

$5 million. FIVE. MILLION. DOLLARS. There it is. So…

(PRECURSOR: This is a dream I had. Just a dream. This did not happen in real life.)

I’m in said dream where I’m walking down this walkway - could be NYC, could be the LSU campus - who knows?

The lone person I encounter on this journey is none other than POST MALONE.

Posty approaches me and says, ‘Say, Bro… what is ‘that?’

The ‘that’ he points to is what I recall as some kind of a gargoyle-like, concrete structure on a concrete column on this particular building along this particular sidewalk, with the top-half of the gargoyle painted in red.

Just the top half.

’Man, I have no idea,’ I reply. ‘By the way, I wasn’t really a fan of your music, but I just wanna say…’

’Yo, yo, yo…’ he interrupts.

’Look here… if you jump over this embankment (which seemed endless) and cling to that thing…

’I’ll write you a check for $5 million… right now!’


’I know you can’t do it,’ Posty boasts. ‘Hell, you’re probably scared. Here I am, calling you out… how bad you want this?’

It was too familiar.

Too ambitious - like going after your hopes and dreams - balls out.

Too treacherous - like gambling said hopes and dreams, risking failure and possible death.

… yet too lucrative to not give it a go.

Being a musician, with someone exposed to this ‘potential fantasy’ all the time (especially around people with exorbitant amounts of money)… is ALL about this notorious situation:

‘Here it is, Fool. You in… or you out?

… so I look at the empty space between me and $5 million.

It’s maybe ten feet.

There’s plenty of safety if I don’t exactly hit the red target. I can grab something.

I’ll survive…

… If I make it.

’Alright, Dude,’ I proclaim. ‘Let’s do this!’

He gets fired up, rubbing his hands like he’s summoning the power that Mr. Miyagi healed Daniel LaRusso in the All-Valley Tournament.

’Go, Dawg!’ he yells.

With a breath… eyes closed… praying to God…

I jump.

As I sail… over the endless embankment…with my life flashing before me…

… I noticed I jumped too much…

… too high, I think.

Gravity (moreso, my excessive weight at the moment) led me to the ‘money spot.’

Directly to it.

I tackled the red of the gargoyle, and I latched onto it.

Just where Posty wanted me to go.

In victory.

I made it.

Post Malone is about to write me a check for FIVE… MILLION… DOLLARS.

Posty is… pissed.

’This is bullshit,’ he said. ‘No way you could do that.’

’I’ve seen this happen tons of times! Mother…’

In my victory (somehow, once again, it’s a dream…) I get back to the other side.

‘Write the check, Bruh,’ I say, proudly.

’I ain’t writing shit,’ he says. ‘There’s no way you did that. You screwed me!’

’How?!’ I say. ‘I did what you asked me to.’

… then I woke up.


Here’s what I was about to offer while he was writing on, um, ‘Post-It’ notes, telling me, ‘this will work at the bank.’ Ha

‘Dude… if you take a selfie with me right now, post the pic on YOUR Twitter account, and tell your fans to check out my music,..

’… we’re even. Either way, we both win.’

Great compromise, am I wrong? For him, at least. Ha!

But look at it…

If I press, I more than likely never see him again.

But if he accepts… it may not be worth ‘technically’ $5 million, but DAMN - do my spins on Spotify, iTunes, etc. go through the roof?!

But I woke up.

That ‘dream deal’ never took place.


Not sure if you believe in fate… or subconscious thoughts… or the ‘Law of Attraction’…

… something’s happening here. It was all too familiar… all too close for comfort… all too close…

… for, um, .’..something…’ REALLY, really big on the horizon.

Am I wrong?

  • EF

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