Fever Dreamz

Last night I dreamt hipsters colonized the moon. Williamsburg was played and all the best thrifting could be found on its dark side. The last stop on the A train dropped kids off in the middle of a shanty town of stalls occupied by the young and the hip pushing their wares. All your Bedford personalities were there, milling about with cigs hanging from their skeptical frowns - glancing around to see who was looking. Boys stood around thumbing through crates of records while girls held shirts on hangers up to their chests, checking themselves out in broken mirrors. There was brunching. And a lot of dust.

It was hard to breathe on the moon because of the oxygen situation in outer space. So there was a debate among the bohemians whether or not the moon's surface was actually an acceptable place to hang out. This conflict separated the lazy and affright from the true pioneers. Some people would shy away and claim they 'rarely' went to the moon while others were brave enough to live there, kind of like Bedstuy.

Yes, the moon was the next phase. There weren't any strollers there yet or fast food chains or even internet cafes. All you could get there was other people's old shit and tattoos. My boyfriend in the dream, who looked like Slash, got one. A red heart with my name in it. The moon was the final frontier of cool. There was even the chance it would never get gentrified because of its inconvenient location and the A Train?!!? Really?!?!!

I over heard some guys talking about it in a bar.

"Dude! Have you been to the moon yet?"

"No way, man! I hear its sweet."

"Yeah man, shits so cheap up there, lots of good bands and hot chicks, and like, NO cops."

"Damn"

"I'm telling you. Next weekend, there is a Neon Indian show there, we'll pop over and check it out, I know someone who will be working the door, can probably get us in for free."