I had a dream about you. You were playing the guitar like it was a piano and I was impressed with my deafness. You played awfully but all I could hear was I love you.

I had a dream about you. You were the lead guitarist in a band with no voice and you were holding auditions for lead singer. Everybody in line in front of me and behind me was a mime so I felt confident Id get the gig. I felt my performance was excellent like Axl Rose meets Rosie ODonnell but no you felt a person who sings in silence would make a better front man for your band.

Things began to go wrong when I was seventeen. My bands twenty-year-old lead guitarist earned seven years in jail for a drug-fuelled spree of violence. The other band members were quick to let go of their musical dreams but I never did. They did the mature thing after writing off the band as a teenage fantasy they got real jobs and made some money. They called it growing up. I called it giving up.