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To Live One More Day

I swear, these dreams sneak up on me, and Sabaton seems to be the band I dream about the most when band dreams happen.

I stayed up late last night playing the demo of PvZ GW2 on my newly created Origin account, and I swear that must be what’s taken up a lot of space on my C drive, I’ll have to be careful. I’m hard at work in replacing the majority of my social media activity (especially Facebook) with writing, video games, and other hobbies. The less drama and politics, the better. Instagram isn’t that bad, but there’s still the matter of unicorns due to some cosmetic pages I follow, and it’s becoming a pain. I’ll have to crawl under my rock this week for certain reasons I will not mention.

I read another chapter of my Wonder Woman novel before falling asleep and I’ve been thinking about Sabaton ever since I woke up from that dream, even during the walk on Burlington beach with my mom this morning. It’s like my brain is telling me “Time to think about Sabaton again, because Jocke’s birthday is coming up!” 



His birthday is the only one in the band that I remember, coincidentally because it’s a day after my dad’s.

Onto the dream, I remember I was at the Opera House; the last place I had saw them live. I was in the front row rocking out to the band, and I remember seeing Chris and Jocke noticing me from the stage. But then, a violent pit started behind me and the crowd-surfing as well. People began pushing their way to the front, and you already know how much I hate that.

I fought to retain my place, but someone who got up beside me decided to elbow me hard to secure a front spot, knocking me all the way to the back of the crowd. At first I was silent and aching like hell, but also briefly reminded that this behavior… even shoulder riding took place at my last concert with them. I thought that it wasn’t necessary because prior to the show, the age restriction was lifted.

Even after the concert, I saw on the venue’s FB page, an older metal dude complained about how someone elbowed him from the nearby pit when he was trying to watch and enjoy the band, and he was forced to leave early because of how much it hurt. Like I said, that kind of behavior, you cannot mix it with every band.

Anyway back in the dream: when I saw how far I had been pushed back to against the wall of the floor area, and robbed of my spot near the stage that I had rightfully earned, I fled to the back of the venue, and down the stairs into the dirty bathroom. (seriously, they never clean those bathrooms). I locked myself in a stall and wept as the music continued on above. Some girls came in and tried to talk and comfort me from the other side of the door. They said that person was an asshole, and one of them even offered to help me try again to get my spot back, but I turned that request away and didn’t stop crying.

Then, a few minutes later, the cheering roared and I assumed it was over. I emerged from the stall clutching my belly where I had been hurt, and looked in the mirror; my makeup was ruined from crying and my eyes inflamed. I heard lots of chatter as people started to leave, and even in this dream I had been given a meet and greet with the band, and felt the devastation rising in me again now that I had missed it. I leaned against the mirror and cried some more as my abdomen throbbed.

The venue grew quieter and I heard small chatter again from voices I recognized: one belonged to the girl who wanted to help me, and the others, to my shock, were all Swedish accents; the first being Jocke’s voice that I heard, and the voices were growing louder.

I heard the girl say: “I found her downstairs in the bathroom, she wouldn’t stop crying, said she was supposed to meet them, but someone hit her to take her place in the front row. I can’t make her leave.”

One response was: “Fine, let her have a few moments, but they have to get back on the road soon.”

I wiped my tears and my fingers were covered in the ink from my running mascara as I turned around and that was when I heard Jocke’s voice as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs: “Shit, I hope she didn’t get hurt too badly,” 

Then, all at once the members of Sabaton entered the room to see me across the hall, and I stared blankly at them unsure if I was about to weep tears of joy or not. Chris said: “We heard someone roughed you up, you okay?”

I approached him and nodded quietly despite the pain in my belly, and that was when Tommy said: “We didn’t know some fans could be so desperate, and that was just fucking mean. We love our fans and don’t want to see them hurt like that,”

Hannes nodded and said, “Tell you what, from now on we’ll ensure our fans are safer at our shows. I personally never understood why they do that.”

All I could do was listen until Jocke said: “If there’s anything you’d like from us to make it up, don’t hesitate to say what you want.”

I managed to smile while wiping my tears, and shook my head telling them that them checking up on me, was all that I needed from them. Then, I hugged each of them and that was when I woke up.

As sad and sweet as this dream can be, I think there is also a lesson behind it that myself, and anyone else can learn when going to any general admission concert: The one for me is to not worry so much about other people’s behavior; it isn’t easy for me to learn, and it’s not something I’ll be able to overcome quickly. Unless that behavior is interfering with my ability to enjoy the show then I should report it……and I don’t mean if it’s someone blocking my view or being disruptive, I mean like if I’m getting crushed and elbowed if I’m not part of the pit. The lesson for others to learn is, yes you can engage in whatever you want at the concert, whether you mosh or crowd surf, but do be considerate of other people around you, especially those closest to where you engage in it, because not everyone wants to participate. (and if it’s an all ages concert, that is even more critical, you never know, there could be children there!)

It’s also a message that I wish more bands would take greater concern for their fans, so that they don’t get hurt. I know with Ghost: Papa likes to do that. It saddens me that I frequently have to sacrifice getting close to a band I love because of moshers.

 Well, it’s late now and the start of a new week, I should hit the sack with my book again and hope for the best as we go through one day at a time.

Goodnight.

👽Emily

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