Dream of A Superstar by David W 2005
Me and Dad were walking like we usually do.
Well, on the way back, before we could get into the house,
a whole fleet of cars (like 20 of them!) pulled up and blocked our way in !
Dad said: can I help you ?
A fellow stepped out, solid black outfit, and black himself.
We have some unfinished business with you.
Dad, what'd he do ?
What about me ?
Yeah, you and your Mum.
My step-mother was just driving up when he snapped his finger and two doors
opened up to show two more black guys and they escorted, not too kindly
her to where we were.
Dorothy said: Is there a problem ?
Man: Hush Mum, our business is with Pops here.
Dad: May I ask what this is regarding.
Man: None of our business really. Let's go !
I was wearing my blue jacket and fingered around in my pockets.
Me: Bet this is going to take a-while. Shoulda brought my Gameboy.
Dad looked at me incredulously, then said: Yep, I don't want you to have
any part of this.
I fingered around on my little digi-cam.
The black guy said: What are you doing ?
What've you got there ?
Show it !
I slowly pulled out the camera.
Black guy: OMIGOD is that a camera ?
(cutesy voice) That is so cute.
(dead-pan serious) You just lost it.
Me: Huh What ?
He took it out of my hands, looked at it for a second, took the panel off
and removed the AA battery. Put the lot in his black trenchcoat pocket.
Man: Let's go people !
We were put in the black limosine and it was really nice except for RAP
music playing loudly. The door closed and I felt my ears pop. Bet this
thing swims underwater too I thought to myself.
Dad: I demand !
Man in front of car turned around, pointed handgun, looked like a Baretta
at Dad with laser dot on his forehead.
Me (scared): Dad you gotta red dot on your forehead.
Dad: (didn't say anything) shook his head once in agreement stiffly and sat
The guy up front was wearing mirrored steel rim glasses. He smiled big at
this and I easily saw that all his teeth were silver too,
no cavities there I thought.
The drive was really quick !
The driver musta hit like 50mph in residential and literally tore out on
the freeway. I couldn't see ANYTHING out the windows as they were painted
solid black where we were sitting.
We arrived in what felt like 10 minutes but I had a feeling
we were MUCH further out in the country.
I saw the guy up front get out and as I was looking at the door to the
right of me, there was a silver bar that rotated popped up, and I felt my
ears pop again. The door opened up and Steel was right there.
Steel: Let's go ! Move it people !
We got out what looked like near an abandoned factory.
Dad: This is not the right place.
Steel: What are you a mind reader Pops ? Let's go people !
We approached this ugly grey door of concrete and I almost didn't notice
the card machine nearby. Steel pulled out what could've been a ring of keys
but it wasn't, it was a ring of little business cards with a magnetic strip
on each of them.
I barely caught sight of the small print on it that said "PREP"
The door slid straight up once he slid the card across it.
We walked inside and it felt like the air there was not part of outside air
at all. The door closed behind us, it was pretty dark in there.
There were four modern chairs in there and a TV set turned off attached to
Steel: Strip down people !
Dad: What ?
Dorothy: I beg your pardon.
Steel: Whatta I gotta do spell it ?
Strip ! Lose your clothes, walk thru here when you're done disinfecting.
With that, Steel left the room through an adjacent door.
We had a chance to talk:
Me: Dad what on earth did we do to deserve this ?
Dad: I'm not sure son .. It could be something out at the lab years ago ..
No, it can't be that.
Well Dad and Mom stripped, I really didn't. I was too nervous. I didn't.
Steel arrived after several minutes.
Steel (louder): Hey kid, strip.
Dad: Look, this is all so irregular.
Steel smiled showed me those teeth again.
Steel: Your funeral little man, see you in heaven !
With that he pulled out the gun, and despite my Dad trying to intervene,
shot me straight - in the arm, no that was my arm not my head.
It didn't go off like a gun, more like a needle. There was a prick on my
skin and then I started sliding.
Steel (face full of steel teeth) looking down at me:
Just go to sleep dude, we'll take care of everything.
The room slid to this really peaceful blue and
I awoke later to be in a silver room.
Well, that's not enough justice to it.
It was silver with a silver floor, silver ceiling, and of course silver
walls and two silver doors. I could faintly hear some music playing.
I recognized it, but I couldn't place the artist.
I awoke dressed in this kind of silver-type pajama. Dad and Mom were
too. I didn't have my coat there so I also didn't have my wallet, keys,
Dad: I don't think this is regarding the plant.
Steel re-entered, "We're uh - a bit delayed here. Do you need anything ?"
Dad: "An explanation."
Steel: "Whatta I gotta do. Spell it ?
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE BOSS NEEDS WITH YOU."
Steel (repeats): "Need anything ?"
Mom: "A glass of water." she said painfully.
Dad (catching on): "Dr. Pepper ?"
Me: The bathroom ?
Steel to me: "What for ?"
Steel: "Yah okay, I got ya."
He pulled a remote out of his pocket, hit about 3 buttons, and the door he
came in re-opened.
Steel: Pointed a finger at me and lectured.
"Don't you touch nothing see. Not even your nose till we get to the
Me: Small voice, "OK"
We entered this kind of elevator. Inside was a glass-sealed B&W picture of
David Bowie on the 5th button.
Me: All excited. "We're gonna go see David Bowie ? David Bowie !?
Wow, that is so cool ! Where's my sis !?
Steel: "Uh huh, look here is some advice. Don't call him that."
Me: "What ? David Bowie."
Steel: "Right, not even David or Mr. Bowie, call him Your Host got it."
Me: "Your host."
Steel: "No man, YOUR Host, make it simple, just Host okay ?"
Something digitized out a little monospaced tune on his waist.
He picked it up, looked at it. Looked at me. Then pocketed it.
Steel (to me): "We're running a bit behind."
The door opened, not to a room but to a bathroom ! A really BIG one !
I started forward and then walked back. There were mirrors out the whazoo
in there, and absolutely EVERYTHING was silver.
Steel: (laughs) "Heh I love this. Everytime. What's the problem little
Me: "It's kinda - BRIGHT in there ?"
Steel: "Yeh so it is. Here, reached out and pulled a pocket piece of
plastic that fits over glasses, sunglass-type.
Steel: "Wear these. Okay, I'm gonna be back 5-minutes, got it ?
I stepped forward and was saying to myself:
David Bowie David Bowie David Bowie ..
Steel: "Naw man, HOST, don't forget !"
Me: Host Host Host.
Well, I really didn't have TOO much business to do there.
But now I did ! I looked in the mirror and this weird little dream I
had decided to give me one big nasty pimple on the side of my cheek.
Me: "Augh !"
I got close to the mirror where I could see, popped it, really long ripple and nasty, and started to reach for a tissue, also some kind of silver paper.
Voice behind me: "Wot the 'ell are you doing to my mirror ey ?"
Me: "Ahm .. sorry, I was - uh- trying to look nice."
Voice: (frantic) "Wot the 'ell you putting in ?
"a tampon bomb or something ?"
I turned around, no-one was there.
Me: "No, ahh - I'm cleaning, OK ?"
Me: Look it's a pimple okay !"
Voice (incredulously): "A pimple !"
Me: "Yah, a really nasty one, I didn't want you to see -"
Voice: "Stay there."
Me: (confused) "Ok."
I started to reach for the tissue when the towel dispenser and the whole
sink quickly rolled away into the wall on some kind of hi-tech mechanism.
The bathroom door opened. There he was, David Bowie. In some kind of
amazing silver-suit. He looked really neat, and that odd eye he had
immediately found my gaze. I also noticed that the bright silver apparently
didn't bother his eyes at all. He had no glasses on.
He started walking towards me.
Bowie: "Lemme see it !"
Me: (I had nothing to wipe it on now so I showed it to him)
Bowie: "Uh huh, can I have it ?"
Me: "What ?"
Bowie had pulled out a little test-tube from his pocket and a linen-silver
Bowie (agitated): "I'll give you $5 for it."
Me: "You gotta be crazy !"
Bowie (his face really close to mine and a not-so friendly arm around my
back) "Not everyone would take that the right way. But I do, I always have.
Yes, I'm crazy ! And YES, that's a compliment ! Oh yeah ! All Ways !
Me: "You said two words. All ways."
Bowie: "Damn you are sharp little man, all I have is $20 for it."
He reached into his wallet where there were several other paper bills-
all silver, nestled into a single $20.
Bowie: "Unless you want a Bowie-buck."
Me: "No no ! $20 is fine."
He put on a linen-silver glove, took the test-tube, wiped the pimple off my
finger and slid it in the test-tube.
Bowie: "I'll check this later."
Me: "Oh cool ! These are one of those neat $20 bills !"
Bowie: (disappointed) "Cool huh ?"
Me: "Well yah, aren't they ? It's got so much more neat stuff in it."
Bowie (disappointed): "Uh huh, I tells you wot is cool little man,
and that is the Federal Deficit, oh that's a real joke.
Don't get me started."
Me: (I pocketed the $20)
Bowie: "You ready to go little man ?"
Me: "I'm - not - so - little."
Bowie (rolls head back and laughs maniacally)
"Not little ? Not little ? Wot are you 16 or something ?"
Me: "No - I'm - 35 - no 38, I can't remember."
Bowie: (not believing - sarcastic) "Uh huuh !"
Bowie flung his hair back and turned sideways.
He pulled out a little device from his pocket. It looked sort of like a
cell-phone but in many ways not.
Bowie: "Sikes ! How old is the kid."
Voice Over: "Oh ? Uh - lemme see."
Bowie: "Come on man ! You're done."
Voice: "Yeah I was just thinking."
Bowie: "I don't pay you to THINK I pay you to be DONE and you're DONE now !"
Voice: "Right. (incredible flurry of clothes being moved around)
He's David, He's 38. Born November 30th, 1966."
Bowie: "Awesome." (he clicked the phone closed)
Me: "David, ahhm, Host. Why did you want my pimple ?"
Bowie: "I never had one."
Me (incredulously) "Never ?"
Bowie: "Not one. No worries."
Me: "Yah, worries make pimples."
Bowie: (holding out a finger) "And keep you young !"
Me: "Well actually I thought worry made you older."
Bowie: (singing-improv) "So true so true, can I have your boogers too ?"
Me: (mouth-open-aghast) "What ??"
Bowie: "Boogers dude, ahhm .. David."
Me: "Yah I guess."
Bowie: $50 a nostril then, okay ?"
Me: "Sure. Ahhm, don't you have any - boogers ?"
Bowie: "Yeah, but not yours. You got worry-boogers."
Me: "Huh ?"
Bowie: "Your boogers are bigger than mine cause you worry, that's cool."
Me: "Yah $50 a hole."
Bowie: "Sounds like golf, your favorite game right ?"
(singing-improv) "Bigger boogers bigger boogers."
Bowie (snaps open phone-thing again)
"Sikes, remember me afore we're done to get the kid's snot."
Sikes: (immediate with no pause or change of tone) "Yessir."
Bowie hits a few buttons on the phone-thing and the sink slides back in.
Bowie: "Clean up ! Let's go !"
We met Dad again in the silver waiting room.
Dad looked really bad, and worried.
Bowie: "Pleasure to meet you." (holding out his hand, I noticed that Bowie
was wearing different gloves now, silver but with a cool gold stripe down
Dad: (slowly) "I can see now - that - this isn't serious. Much.
What can I do for you (pause) Host ?"
Bowie: "It's all the wrong reverse man.
It's what I'M going to do for you !"
Dad: "I beg your pardon ?"
Bowie: "Don't beg, you're not a dog, you're HUMAN,"
(talking to himself - then singing-improv again)
Bowie: "Who man ? You man, you're human !"
Dad: (pause - breath - tiredly) "Well ?"
Bowie steps back and remote in hand hits a few buttons.
The lights dim and a projector runs showing some B&W slides of hospital
Bowie: "Parkinson's." It's a terrible disease, no-one should get it.
I need your help."
Dad: "How ?"
Bowie (pauses in thought)
"I want to donate a million bucks to help find a cure."
Dad: (dead-pan) "Why do you need me ?"
Bowie: "Well I've seen you out walking and I see some of the problems it has.
I also know you are bright I mean sharp like a diamond-head rattleback,
you probably know where this million can go to do the most good."
Dad: (serious) "Yes. I do."
Bowie: "Well I didn't see. And for your trouble, I'll give you a mill for
you and your family - howzat ?"
Dad: "That is - acceptable."
Bowie: (grinning from ear to ear at the serious-tone of my Dad)
Bowie: "Good deal, lighten up, you've got your knees in your shoes man."
Dad (exasparated) : "Is that it ?"
Bowie: "Well one more thing."
Dad: "And ?"
Bowie (quieter): "It's your son, and it's in private."
Dad: (rising angrily) "Now look !!"
Me: Dad ! Hey, it's okay, it's not what you think. It's epidermic.
Bowie: "What did you say ?"
Me: "Don't worry. It's ok. Right Dad."
Dad: (looks at Bowie) "Okay."
Bowie: "Good deal."
(Bowie walks over to me, hands me back my camera - I click it on but see
the battery has been removed).
(Bowie to Dad and holding out his hand) "Come, walk with me."
A door opens and both Bowie and Dad go thru.
I notice for the first time Dad walking REALLY well, no problems at all.
I wondered if WORRY made Parkinson's worse, and that being the case maybe
Dad wasn't worrying so much because of Bowie's generous contribution.
I lean back in the silver chair, started sliding again, and then woke up.
Please do not reprint without permission
(additional). My Dad died of Parkinson's about 2-months ago so it really is a serious disease. I've known him all my life and am going through grief over it.
I hope someone finds a cure for Parkinson's soon to help others afflicted.